She took the blade and eyed it carefully. Not too sharp, yet not too blunt. It felt cool against her flushed arm. She was fuming inside.

If anyone saw the mark it made they would know how she felt. But they wouldn’t know. They would never know how it felt to have your heart ripped out of your chest, thrown on the ground, and carelessly placed back.

She felt a piercing at the edge of her wrist where she placed the blade. She pressed hard, and traced the familiar red line. Blood bubbled out of the fresh wound as she continued tracing her skin with the silver steel. She felt a new warmth as it ran down her arm, sticky and hot.

Her eyes burned with the combined pain in her heart and in the usual cut of her wrist. Tears continued to run down her cheeks, dropping into her lap.

She removed the blade as a tear fell into her physical hurt. The salt stung and she quickly wiped her eyes. –Crying is for idiots- she thought to herself.

She stood up and pushed back her sleeve exposing four different red marks created by the same steely blade. Her pain dulled as she looked around at the unnatural whiteness of her bathroom. The porcelain whiteness of the sink and toilet, and the white curtains covering the shower. She looked at the floor and watched a spot of blood form on the white tile. –A mask of my life- she thought as she watched the redness trace along the cracks.

She walked towards the sink and turned on the flood of water. She plugged the drain as she let the cool water run against her pain. The blood streamed off her arm into the pool.

She watched the water cloud red as her arm stung and her eyes burned anew. She suddenly realized the color was not ceasing. The water darkened as her wound flowed on. She had pressed too hard, she thought as her vision blackened and she floated into darkness and dread.



*Morbid much?*