As I picked up the knife I heard screaming at the door..On the count of 3.
1.2.3.. the blood came pouring from the cut I had made on my wrist. one cut two cuts until my whole arm Was covered In cuts. as I opened the door a look of surprise was on my dad's face as if they had expected me to die they should know I never do that take them anyway. he asked me why I did it. I said I'd rather feel pain the nothing at all he just looked at me. As I walked away he reached for my shoulder but grabbed the wrist so deeply. They squeal of pain was released from my mouth and I just kept walking and I never looked back
