Who: Shay & open Where: The roof When: Evening, just about dark Warnings: Possibly trigger imagery, Shay's not a 'cutter' because she likes making flower arrangements.
Things had been going fine the past few weeks, better than fine, even, she'd been fitting in, and talking to people. At least until she realized that she was fitting in because she was acting like them, this pack of Rusties that she knew for a fact she was better than.
It was time to bring things back into focus, make everything icy clear again. She was doing this the only way she knew how, the one surefire way to snap everything back into perspective. She was perched on the edge of the roof, the far end, away from the garden. She was facing out into the void, the hand with the knife in it resting at her side, her other arm across her lap with two fresh cuts along it, and a third one, almost healed, all three bleeding sluggishly, the tattoo over her eye and down her cheek finally starting to stir, ripping in time with her heartbeat.