Inferior: Draft 2 [ON HOLD]

Prologue

Inferior. That's what I hear in the hallways. In the cafeteria. In class. In the bathrooms. In the locker room. In my house. In my room. I hear it from my parents. From my teachers. From my classmates. From my ex-friends. From everyone.
I started cutting at 10. At 7 was when the bullying started. At home. At school. On the bus. On the subway. Everywhere. I needed a physical pain to match the mental pain. So I read. About how to cut. Where. How. How to clean up after. How to prep before. How to sterilize the razor blades. Where to cut so I didn't die. If I died, I couldn't get revenge. Also, I used it as an excuse. If I died, I would not deserve the reprieve it would grant me. From the pain. The pain of being. Existing. Knowing.
Knowledge can be painful. As painful as a blade. I sharpen my blades before I cut, so that it will be cleaner. Easier to hide. I cut shallow, so it heals fast. More cutting if it's fast. I don't only do one arm. That's asking for scars. I do both. People probably think I have an abusive family. That is partly true. They kick me. But I am the cause of the bandages.
I am the root of this problem. But they started it. They are the cause. They are the problem I can't hide. They are the past. They are the reason for the whipping scars on my back. They are the reason for my pain. They are Channing Smith, Jane Smith, and Harley David. My parents and uncle. How much damage could they do? You ask. I laugh. That's a joke.