She sits there. 

She shivers. 

She's cold. 

The scars change color as her temperature drops. 

A purple color. 

The words "FAILURE" and "FEEL ALONE" are enhanced. 

More visible now. 

LOVE is written in dark ink.

Her fingernails painted purple, like her scars. 

Her past is seen in her own mind. 

Tears running down her face. 

She can hear the screaming down stairs again. 

Like it was just yesterday. 

No one even notices. 

No one can tell she's alone and crying out in the open. 

Nothing to hide her but everyone's eyes that just pass without care. 

Just a glance. 

Her music is loud, wishing it would drown it all out. 

It doesn't matter to anyone else, they do the same.

She clenches the blade as if it were to drop she won't ever feel it's comfort again. 

She searches for her phone. 

Sends a simple "Hey..." hoping someone will reply. 

Hoping someone will acknowledge her. 

Hoping and wishing someone will notice.

Notice that she isn't okay. 

She knows it's not okay for anyone to feel this way.

She can't help it. 

She also knows that people do notice. 

They want her to realize she is strong enough to get through. 

For her to realize they are always there. 

For her to realize that there is another way. 

For her to just realize that they will always acknowledge her. 

For her to realize that she is loved. 

For her to realize that pain isn't the way. 

For her to realize that they love her. 

And they always will. 

She sits there. 

Smiling. 

Without a blade. 

She knows she is stronger than that.