Eli sat on the cold, tiled floor, staring at the shiny razor placed in his outstretched palm. He knew he shouldn’t knew someone would see the new scars and realize he wasn’t better. But he was struggling. Everything hurt, and he needed a release from reality. A single salty drop slipped down his pale, tearstained face. With a deep breath, he turned the razor, pinching it between his fingers. Eyes slipping closed, he slowly pressed the sharp metal into the skin of his thigh, hissing as it pierced his flesh.