The thin hand shook slightly and the slender fingers gripped tighter. A sliver of metal danced slowly, hypnotically in the air, catching the light and reflecting a silent but angry danger.
   Tears collected once again and streamed down pale fevered cheeks, running over cherry red lips. Heat permeated the air, but they shuddered and shivered in a cold sweat, huddling closer still to the bathroom sink. Light shone off the cold black and white tile colored the floor, but it made no promise or a sign of a brighter side to this life.
   One fluid down motion and bright red dripped-dropped and spilled across the clean floor. Spots of crimson stained the white tiles, decorating the bathroom even more. Another slicing motion, more blood. Another. Another.
   The pain started, tingling at first before it became unbearable. Groaning, hands weakly started pushing and pulling, while trembling arms tried to carry the thin body before pain and darkness became a large blanket.
   A knock landed on the outside of the door, and a hand reached toward it. Blood bubbled from the mouth as words tried to be said, but the voice had failed.
   Another knock. Another.
   Slowly it creaked open and a curious face peered in. Their mouth twisted in a horrified 'o' before screams erupted.
   More pain. Eyes closed against it, trying to find that place inside where everything was always all right. The one that had been lost for so long now.

   Bright lights stirred the covered body, and hands tried to touch their face only to find them tied down. Struggling wildly they fought the restraints, screams spewed from their gauze-covered mouth.
   It only took seconds for a nurse to come and jab a needle in their arm. The drug working quickly, their futile attempts were stopped completely, incoherent mumbles now fell from their lips before darkness surrounded them again.

   "Mom? Dad?" A hoarse voice called out weakly; eyes blinked away the sleepiness and tried to adjust to the light.
   Their body protested movement, too stiff and sore for the shifting change in their position.
   "It's just me, Doctor Karson. Your parents will be in shortly." They paused, "You've been in and out of anesthetics for a couple weeks now. Your wounds are healing nicely though, no need for bandages now."
   Flexing the muscles in their fingers, they raised instantly when realization struck they weren't tied down. "Can I have a mirror?" It was asked before fingertips touched hair and face.
   "I don't think it's such a good idea." Dr. Karson admitted dryly.
   Head shook, "I need to, Doc. I need to."
   Nodding, they left only to return a short while later with a compact in her hands. She lifted it, refusing to pull back when a clammy cold hand touched hers.
   Focusing it on them, they drew in a sharp breath. "What have I done?" Dry fingertips traced ugly red-scabbed tissue criss-crossing over a pale face and etching into cracked pale-red lips.
   "There's a plastic surgeon, waiting to talk to you. He's already talking with your parents and brother's at the moment." Doctor Karson informed stoically.
   Head shook again, "I don't want it."
   Doctor Karson narrowed her eyes; "You can't possibly want…"
   Anger and fire leapt from them; "You can't possibly know what I want!"
   "You can't even fathom the depths of hell I've already been to!"
   The shouting brought in a rush of people.
   "Taylor!" Gasping, Mrs. Hanson instantly turned her face into her husband's chest, while he and his two older sons looked on.
   Isaac quickly his head in disgust, revulsion built in his stomach and traveled up his throat.
   "My God, Tay." Zac murmured weakly.