TW: disturbing content.
Scrabble sketch draw. Rip
That's all she knows, her eyes on the empty paper with crumbled and ripped papers on the floor and on her desk with all types of drawing, "what to do?" She says to her self, her hand is frozen in place. Her pencil standing still while being held by her dirty fingers, who were smudged by pencil marks. What's going on? What should I draw? Paint? Sketch? What should I do...
Her mind is stuck everywhere, how long am I just going to stare? I can't stop staring...I tried to draw so many times, why don't I like any of them? She finally sighs, and holds her breath. Her hands rest and let go of the pencil, making a small tap against the table. Thinking to herself, 'what to do?'
She turns her head to a case, a bright yellow small case. The size of a sharpener, it's been a while since she opened it. But is it worth it? So many good uses it has inside, but will it hurt? Her head is empty. Her body is numb, her eyes droopy begging to close and rest. Finally she starts breathing again, taking big breaths, realizing how much she needed air after holding her breath for she doesn't know how long.
She closes her eyes for a moment and leans against the chair, opening them again and getting up from her desk, that's messy in every way. And walks towards the yellow case, the size of a sharpener. Very bright, she opens it to reveal a sharpener. A small one, no case, just the sharpener. She looks at it with a cold look, before grabbing nearby scissors and taking out the screw, letting the blade go loose.
She widens her eyes a bit more, realizing what she has done. Is it too late to turn back now? What to do. She gently grabs the blade with her two delicate fingers, and holds it up. Staring at the hole in the middle where the screw should be. So many uses, for one topic...
She slides one of her fingers down the blade, making it bleed. Wincing to the pain, 'it's ok.' She thinks to her self. Again, she stares into the blade. Before putting it against her dry wrist, feeling the skin go cold from the metal. Slides it down her skin, admiring the blood following the blade. The metal shiny blade.. so admirable, she presses the medal deeper into her skin, wincing. 'its ok.' she says to herself again. She lifts the blade, and moves it next to the bleeding scar, dragging it down her skin.
This time, deeper. So deep . So deep that she sees the scar opening up while following the bloody stained blade, she hitches her breath, 'more, more...'
Two scars. Three scars. Four scars. Five scars. Six scars. Seven scars. Eight scars. Nine scars....more...so much more, she can't feel the pain, her arm and wrist. Filled up with scars and blood stains. She puts the bloody blade in the night yellow case, with her burning and tingling arm. It hurts again, everywhere where each scar lays. She closes the case and hides it, before sitting down on her chair again. And using her left hand fingers and presses it against a bloody scar, so much blood. So pretty, she lifts up her bloody fingers, And presses it against her empty paper. Shaping something, making something. Something admirable. So admirable.. shes painting. It's pain and paint mixed in one, so pretty. She grabs more blood from her burning arm, and continues making her 'art'
Once she is done, she stares at it. So pretty, very pretty. Admirable, what to do now? She rips the paper off her sketchbook slowly and hides it in her drawer. She closes it with a gentle push. And smiles, before furrowing her eyebrows. And grits her teeth, it hurts. So much...it hurts and stings, so bad. Stinging...so much stinging. Throbbing. It hurts. She breaks into tears and sobs,
What to do.
