Ways

8 2 0
                                    

The springs that composed the matress where biting against her taunt skin
The whitening blisters pulsed with her heart
The gaping wounds cried with her eyes

The frail material of her pajamas scratched her skin
Her limp hair tangled with her feelings
Her raw throat burnt with her hands

She pressed her teeth against her lip
She pressed the blade against her skin and started to count

One
A gun
Two
A rope
Three
A train
Four
A car
Five
Some pills
Six
Arsenic
Seven
A knife
Eight
A jump
Nine
A drop
Ten
A lighter

Every cut and every burn blinked back at her
Every cut and every burn scowled at her
Every cut and every burn sang to her
As she thought of all the ways she would kill herself

TabidusWhere stories live. Discover now