Quiet Testimony

The scars on her wrist tell a story.
A story of pain and haterige. The ling nights of yelling and screaming. No matter how many tears she cried, how much blood she bled they would never understand what was happening. How their selfish life only consisted of yelling and abuse on each other. It broke her heart to hear it all. The next day she cleans the mess each piece of glass she cuts a new marking. A room full of students and two teacher and no one notice the blood that soaks her sleeve nor the marks on the desk. This was her quiet testimony.