Her best friend stares at her in disgust.

"You have everything," he spits.

She knows.

God, she knows.

But somehow, it isn't enough.

And then he's pulling up her sleeves, running a finger over her scars.

"Across for attention, up with intention."

No, she thinks, not attention.

She doesn't want attention.

She wants to stop feeling so numb.

Even for a second.