Beautiful blood

She was sat there on that black stone wall, alone. A slight breeze was letting her hair attempt to rise up in front of her face. She was slightly hunched over, her legs swinging too. Her white face was streaked with tears, slowly escaping her blue eyes and down her face.
Autumn leaves were flying around her feet, and the dark clouds hovered above. A lone Church bell was beginning to toll, the houses nearby were beginning to light up, yet she refused to move. She just sat slumped on the wall, oblivious to the world around her.
Yet her emotions which brought the tears on in the first place came round again, and she moved, raising her right hand and bringing it across her left arm, shaking furiously, tears pouring down her face, but she carried on. She brought her hand across her wrists thrice, wincing at what she was doing. Blood was drawing from her wrists, her arms. Dark red, beautiful, blood.
She had found sanctuary. She had found her comfort.