their future was tinged red by blood, their blood.
They grew up believing monsters hid under beds and in closets and when they were scared their mothers would tell them they didn't exist. They found out later they hid behind familiar faces.
In sixth grade they were told a rhyme of sticks and stones, of how names were nothing but words made up of letters that meant nothing, but the pain they felt was not nothing.
In tenth grade they took a knife and carved a word so horrible into her skin and laughed as she bled from the wound, she cried out for them to stop but her tears were drowned by laughter; ugly.
To this day she has yet to look at herself and say; beautiful. To this day she turns her head away in disgust and wishes for someone to take her away. Suicide attempt; 4th, 5th.
To this day... her mind is clouded by stamps and stickers nailed into her bones by a tool sharper than any knife she ever used against herself. To this day she has yet to see beauty.