The Hanged Girl

The doctor's fingers are cold and her fingernails are sharp on my neck. She brushes her rough finger on my neck and she jots down a note in her notepad, clicking her tongue in the process.
"Ms. Williams, does it hurt when I do this?" She presses on the texture on my neck with her fingernail.
"Only because you haven't clipped your nails in a week," I reply sourly.
She doesn't go crimson. Instead only a slight pink color rises in her cheeks.

"How about now?"
"No," I reply sheepishly, wishing I could think of a sarcastic response. She nods. "That's all for today, Ms. Williams."

"I'm glad - go clip your fingernails. See you next week."
I run my smooth fingers onto my rough, rope patterned neck.
I tried to hang myself when I was 10 - because of being bullied, because of my parents, because my life was going in the wrong direction.
I lived.
But when I was 12, I did it again. 2 years passed, I thought I could handle it, but I went insane again.. I had to die.
I lived.

I bit my lip as I checked the time on my phone. Half past 11 - I'm late. The doctor kept me waiting more than I thought I would have to - strange.
I have an appointment to meet this new detective on my case - he's supposed to be the best in all of England. Well, I challenge that. None of my psychiatrists or private investigators or doctors have found out what's wrong with me and why I'm so.. so different, so special.

I scratch my ear as I pick at my lip. It's a habit I have, especially if they're chapped.
I walk through the library where we agreed to meet, and my eyes scan the small area.
Only full of people picking out books. Some of them don't notice me until I zip up my jacket, trying to be quiet as I hide my hanging marks on my neck, but all of their eyes dart towards me like dogs stalking prey.
Instantly the room is full of murmurs and agreements and disagreements and I keep my eyes locked in front of me, ignoring them, ignoring all the action around me.
"Excuse me," A strong voice says. I inwardly groan as I fake a smile to face the person. A girl with blonde hair done up in a neat bun and green eyes not quite identical to mine.
"Are you the Hanged Girl?"

"I am." I sound bored and she's surprised. I've earned the name The Hanged Girl since I was 10 - now I'm 22 and it's stuck for ages now.
"Listen, I'm a bit busy."

"Y-yeah, I get it," She stammers, now red. I bite my cheek to keep from laughing, since whenever I say I am the Hanged Girl to a stranger their expression is perfect.
"I told you so, Anne," The girl hisses to her friend, a dark haired girl now looking flushed.
There's silence as I walk up the stairs, but by the time I'm up one corridor, I hear more chatter including "i-told-you-so's" and other things.

I open the door to one of the studies, and I go inside.
"Ms. Williams." One of the people working on my mystery smiles. "You're late."
"Sorry," I say in my bored tone and set down my purse.

"Let's get to it."

Notes

Sorry about this boring chapter! Needed to build up the story - or something like that.
PREPARE FOR LE NEXT CHAPTER.