TW: Blood, mentions of death and self harm
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The chilling metal touched my fair skin-- a sea of red following it out.
I stared down at it wide-eyed, feeling the shivers run down my spine as the crippling agony dawned down on me; not just from the open wound the scarred my arm, but the realisation that I've hit rock bottom.
And even if I was shaking with surprise, I had an addicting voice in my head telling me to do it again.
"Pick up that bloody knife." It hissed, "C'mon, do it again. Do it! I dare you." It yelled out. "You know you want to."
The pace of my breath grew faster with the second, the thumping of my aching heart loud and clear. Thump thump.
My quivering hand, once again, held onto the knife of pain, having the sharp and cold tip meet my snowy white skin; the crimson red oozing out. And with another sharp cut, it happened again-- and again, and again... and again; until my entire arm was littered with the drawing of lines and a long lake of red waters.
While I sat there, stunned and dry-eyed, I could only fear that there's no going out of this dark and deep hole I've dug for myself; because no one would reach a hand out to help.
I can only drown in my own bath of blood as I finally take my last breath and escape this life of pain as Death welcomes me with peace; and finally... silence.
247 words
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It was addicting, the feeling of the cold metal prick my smooth skin. I never want to experience again, but I just can't seem to stop.
YOU ARE READING
Short Stories :P
RandomBehind these books and words stand a lonely writer with an explosion of thoughts and feelings she is never able to show. Read this book to get an insight on small snippets of my life. ~Editing/checking finished~
