I walk over to the bathroom.
How easy it would be to just grab the blade and drag it across my skin. The lovely sensation of the bright red liquid slowly seeping out of my veins.
Picking it up, I slowly look at, making sure I actually want to do this. Thinking back to all the pain, I decide on my answer.
The cool blade touches my skin, slowly tearing it apart. I feel the blood leaking out, slowly, but I want it to move faster. Again the metal touches my skin but this time it goes over the already flowing wound. Wincing as it cuts into the exposed tissue, I continue leading on its path down my skin. More rushes out as I remove the blade, covering me in its bright color, the rusty red turns bright red as the air hits it. I love the feeling I'm getting, I never want it to stop. All the pain is gone, I don't think about anything but the high I'm on. I slice and slice again, not really thinking about the amount leaving me, not worrying about if I might die if I slice again. Of course I slice again, loving every minute of this high. All of a sudden, I'm getting weak and dizzy.
What's happening?
I don't know, the high I was on is now leaving, leaving me more conscious of all the red everywhere. I look down and see cuts everywhere and a blade in my hand. Did I do this? Why would I do this? What could have possibly been so bad that I did this?
Slowly the darkness starts to envelope me, dragging me down into unconsciousness. It can't really end like this, can it? Does my story really end in blood? Where is the happy ending I was always told I would get ever since I was little? As I fall to the floor I hear someone calling my name from down stairs.
Again I hear the voice but it sounds closer, again and again it calls my name.
Will someone please make the voice go away? Wait, what is it saying now? Something about I can't leave, I need to stay. Where am I going? Why do I need to stay? No one wants me. The voice is calling for help. Why does it need help? Ugh, now I'm hearing multiple voices, as if one wasn't bad enough. They keep saying things like stay with us, help, why would they do this? Did no one really pay any attention to me? If they did then they would've seen that I was hurting everyday but no one was ever there.
I feel something moving me off of the hard tiles and onto something that feels almost like a moving cot.
Ouch, I felt shocks go through me, ow, there they were again. Are they trying to kill me?? Do they really hate me that much??
Wait, what's happening? I'm seeing myself now. I'm in a hospital, laying on a bed with doctors all around me. There is a machine attached to me, it's a heart monitor. I feel shocks again but not as bad. Looking over I see that they are trying to get my heart going again. Wait, does that mean I'm dead?
I see a doctor tell them that it's too late. What does he mean by too late? He starts to unplug me from the machine. Crying, crying, everyone's crying. Why would they cry? I'm flying, flying, I'm flying away from the pain. Away from pain, abuse, tears, and heartache. No one cried while I was alive, so why can they cry now? No one ever help me or cared for me! No, they are not allowed to cry if I couldn't.
