Some days for MK are harder than others.
It's something that has plagued her since way before her mother died. Random waves of dread and despair that twist up her insides and makes her want to claw her eyes out and peel her skin off.
Some days she's fine.
Most days it's an underlying feeling, like an ache deep in her body, like a headache.
Some days it's more like a migraine.
On those days, MK used to drag cold, dull knives against the soft flesh of her arms and legs.
The dull knives made it harder for her to bleed, but the pain of getting herself to bleed with them feels like the built up feelings are bleeding out of her.
The first time any of her family took notice of this was when she was fifteen. The feelings had been so built up and excruciating that no amount of slashes could alleviate it.
So instead of using her dull knife, she took her mother's butchers knife, sat in the bathtub, and carved herself open.
It hurt to have her blood pouring out, but MK felt content and like she had dipped herself into a warm bath.
Her vision went dark, and she swore she saw a figure made out of light coaxing her to come with them.
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