As the rain comes down pouring, banging against my window my tears fall in sync banging against my heart. I cry until my eyes dries out and those sobs eventually turn into dry heaves. The rain still beats hard against the window, mocking my pain. I walk up to the oppressive window and rake my nails against the pane. My head comes closer and closer till my check is pressed into the sill. The cold penetrates my cheek causing me to shiver. The icy chill travels form my cheek, through my veins, to my heart causing me gasp for breath. I walk back to bed unsteady; not sure if my legs can support my anguish. I make it to bed and fall into my blankets; curling into ball. Burying myself inside the purple flowers that adorn my comforter. I grab on to my pillows for dear life and my knuckles turn white from my grip. Blood falls down and drips on to the bedside from my wrist. It creates a stain on the beige carpet but I don’t have the heart to clean it up anymore. I turn over onto my back and bring my wrists in front of may face. My fingers glide across the jagged cuts. I feel nothing, thus I press more into the cut causing the blood to bubble down onto my arm. I laugh at the numbness. A sense of irony washes over me. I’ve tried to hide my pain for years from my parents, friends, teachers but the evidence is clearly here on my bed. The blood dripped and made a pattern across my whole bed spread, a sort of trail of fear, pain, and lies. I lye and waste away, waiting for the cold rain to obliterate the window and consume me.