The blade shined in the light making the metal look extra shiny. I sat on the toilet admiring how pretty it was before pressing it down to my dark skin and in one fluid movement-
Slice.
And the glistening beauty of the blade was replaced by something else. Blood-
Slice.
For a moment I feel a sharp pain. The pain of my skin ripping apart and letting my blood leak out-
Slice.
Letting my life force leak out.
Slice.
The moment passes and next I feel empty, worth-less. And I remind myself why I have to do this-
Slice.
Why?
Slice.
Because I have to remind myself, constantly.
Slice.
I am nothing.
I will not forget that.
I will not get above myself.
Slice. Slice. Slice.
A couple drops of blood fall to the floor. I hear a couple of girls outside my stall giggling.
“Ew.” One says.
“Do you need a tampon?” Another laughs.
I narrow my eyes at the door and draw my hand closer to my chest. I wish looks could kill, ‘cause in my mind they all explode into the little plastic pieces they are.
Their laughs fade and I hear them return to conversation.
I look back at my hand, examining the damage my blade has done.
I feel a sting in my palm, oops. Guess I was holding it too tight. Again.
“She’s such a freak.” I hear the girls say and I know the conversation has returned to me.
Slice.
Lastly I feel nice. The sting of the pain is some-what comforting. Helping. Healing.
I want to feel that again. I want to feel more of it, so-
Slice.
Slice.
This was the last time, I promised myself, last time today.
Slice.
I do once more, as a reminder that I would always find comfort in my blade.
YOU ARE READING
Blade (Watty Awards 2013)
Teen FictionI hate to say that this is the story of a cutter. However it is. For 14 year old Lillian, life is just beginning, but its like waking up on the wrong side of the bed. Dealing with the loss of her sister, things start bad then they just escal...