/u/PistachioPug's posts in /r/TwoSentenceSadness
As a child I knew what people said about me when they thought I couldn't hear, but I didn't mind because I knew when I grew up I would prove them all wrong.
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Was it fear that made her put down the razor and bandage her wrist, or was there some tiny animalcule of hope still alive within her, or was it just that, for a moment, the physical pain was greater than the other one?
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While she was falling she flashed forward into a dozen possible futures and lay broken in a dozen configurations at the bottom of the steps: here a sudden crunch, her sightless eyes fixed on something over her shoulder; there white bone poking through jagged flesh as the snow turned slowly red.
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