The abuser and the mirror.

TW!!!!! MENTION OF S/H

I took the metal rod and took the chance to belabor my beloved friend. She writhes in torturous pain, sound unable to escape her mouth. Battered and bruised she might be, she never asks me to say sorry. I look down on her, scorning her for how disheveled she looks, Her hair is a mess, mascara ruined, a perfect girl, at her wits end. She deserves this right? She's useless and foul, worth nothing more than a rusty penny found.

I pound and pound with that metal rod, welts big and red form on her skin. She smiles at me, why? Why is she smiling? Is she sick? Is she insane? The more she smiles the harder I hit. Bleed. Bleed. you deserve it all, worthless and a waste of air. I look at her now, she isn't moving, her eyes bloodshot and her whole body is mangled with the wounds I've given her. I have done right, I have, I have. She doesn't deserve life.

At the end of the day, none of this matters . I stand up and look in the mirror. I need to stop throwing these fits. I'm tired of wrapping up my skin.

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