She smiles her perfect little smile again. No one really knows what she thinks about or does. To them she’s perfect, beautiful and happy. What they don’t know is what happens in her dreams. A haunting terror that forces its way out, in any way it thinks. She attempts to keep it secret. For all of her mortal life, but the stress piles on, and the dreams get far worse, so she watches. She listens, but she is no more. A sharp metal object clenched in her hand. The promise of relief and happiness once again, She holds the razor up high, admiring the glow. She brings it down slowly, slicing deep within. She traces it down, smiling again. Watching the blood flow down her pale and beautiful wrists, in the morning all will be forgotten, stress once again in her life, she’ll wear long sleeves for weeks on end. Until the scars are again hidden beneath her skin, she cries one night and takes her bloodstained razor out again. She shreds her arms to ribbons, not knowing the virgin eyes watching.

“What are you doing?” Her little brother stares at her, seeing all the blood. He screams so loud, there mom runs in.

“What’s going on…” her eyes widen at the scene. She grabs her daughter’s arms and throws the razor down.

So now the perfect girl is gone, wretched from this little town. No longer her perfect smile in the crowds. No longer her ringing laughter, echoing down the halls. And no longer the scars upon her wrists, she thought she hid so well.

Moral: Do not attempt to hide things which cannot be hid.