Amanda

Amanda dragged the knife across her own pale wrist. She watched in morbid fascination as the blood rose to the surface of the wound before falling down the sides of her wrist. Amanda was far wiser than she looked. She knew that no matter how many times she cut herself, she would never die. He would never let her die, the demon that resided within her.

Amanda hissed lightly at the slight pain that the knife caused as it made contact with her wrist again. She had been doing this for as long as she could remember. This sick obsession was the only thing that seemed to keep her sane. She knew that she would be sent to the same place as her mother, should anyone find out. But no one could, she would never let anyone know.

Amanda sighed deeply when the blood connected with the pristine white tiles of the bathroom floor. She really needed to clean that, but she didn't want to stop. She didn't want to stop in order to clean up. She just wanted to keep going in hopes that this time...that this time she could finally leave.  

So many years had passed, yet Amanda still remembered. She still remembered the way it felt when that man had tried to use her. The way it felt when she had been hit for not letting him. Even now after all these years Amanda remembered the sick feeling of pleasure it gave her as she plunged the knife into her own heart.