"Okay," Lily frowned as she received the painting and the business card. She really had hoped he would've at least considered the umbrella before almost immediately refusing it. She saw him turn around and leave her home, probably on his way back to his own home. With a sigh of defeat, she shut her apartment door before walking into the living room. Her living room was rather bland and lifeless. The walls were white, and her furniture was black, and her carpet was also white. There wasn't any color to liven it up or convey any other emotion. She had prepared a place on her wall for the painting, and immediately placed it there. After ensuring that it wasn't placed crookedly, she went to her computer and powered it on.<br/><br/>"I wonder what else he does..." she thought out loud before realizing what she had just said, "Why am I wondering about this? He's just an artist that I buy paintings from. Besides, I can't get close to men...I'll probably get attacked again.. all men want is to hurt me after all... but he didn't seem to care about anything at all... I'm just so confused!" she groaned in frustration as she began searching through the website. His art was definitely incredible, and something worth talking about. After finding some pieces in her price range, she ended up purchasing two new pieces of artwork. This man would definitely continue getting business from her.<br/><br/>That evening, her depression hit a downward spiral. She sat in the bathroom floor with her bloodied wrists and legs. Her self-loathing set her off into a fury of cutting. She had never cut her wrists before, and it brought out a new sensation that she had yet to experience. She didn't even know that she'd want to cut so much more after the slicing of her wrists. She craved to feel the pain and the oozing of the blood. She wanted the world to see that she wasn't good enough anymore. She wanted the world to see how messed up she really was. At this point, everything began muddling together. With a pathetic sounding chuckle, she began to slice new cuts on her legs.<br/><br/>"Why do I even care? No one else will care about me anyways. Who wants damaged goods in their lives? I wouldn't even want me...all I'm good for is getting assaulted and raped. Just a sex object for men and a punching bag when I try to refuse...that's all I'm good for. I wonder if anyone would miss me if I ended up cutting my own throat tonight...I doubt it. I don't even deserve to live. So many people die when they deserve to be alive. I don't deserve this..." she hadn't realized that tears began to stream down her face. Did she really want to die?