She would no longer make the thin slices that signified all her daily pain. No more this slices, no, she would just make a new cut for each thing that happened
The same number, just deeper.
Acting upon this thought, she snatched up her brand new blade from her bedside table and touched the edge to her inner wrist and began to push slowly in before turning it flat against the streaming red and now carrying out her new idea, she pushed the blade towards herself. She glanced away and then looks back at he progress.
Grinning she sliced up and a thin hunk of inner arm flesh now hung from her razor, blood now pulsing from multiPle points of severed vein.
 Confictura · Fri May 13, 2011 @ 09:10pm · 0 Comments |
