I wiped my face and licked my fingers. Yes, it was my tears. They had no sweetness to them, they tasted like a rusty nail, or a cold steel you just stuck your tung to. I looked at my fingers, my longs nails looked different. I didn't remember painting my nails silver, I hadn't even painted them for a few days. I held my breath, my chest aching, as I stared at my hands. My nails had a silver tint, and my veins were darker than ever and bulging even more under my thin skin. I quickly stood up and looked at myself in the mirror. My hair was very messy, it needed brushed, and my eyes had dark circles around them. I looked dead (even more dead than usual). This time, it was scary. My hand felt my hollow cheeks and wiped them of their moisture. Then, they wiped my eyes also and stared at myself, hoping for an improvement. Who cares, I will never see Jack again. I might as well die, at least I'll fill in my look.

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