Harper](Open) I sit in the garden, tending the plants as I usually do before going back to my room and crying my guts out. After I stop I look at myself in the mirror. My skin was too pale, the bags under my eyes too dark, my body too bony. Everything about me was somehow sick. All because some filthy pig thought it would be fun to play with me. Broken, abused, PTSD, anxiety, and depression ridden little me. I shakily make my way over to my desk, unlocking the bottom right drawer.