Word Count: 202
TW: blood, gore, murder, mental illness
Enough, enough, enough. I repeat it in my head like a mantra, begging for it to come true.
But, I can't stop feeling the blood. I can't stop feeling the guilt that I didn't feel then. In that moment, nothing could persuade me. All I wish for is to go back to that place, where I was the manipulator, the place where I was the queen of persuasion.
Those few hours were glorious. Now, and only now, I am left with the outcome. Hands that itch to scratch the blood from my already scrubbed body.
Enough, enough, enough.
"Save me from this hell," I whisper to the concrete ceiling, begging any deity for help.
"Save me from this hell," I whisper to the corpse tied to the blood-spattered chair.
She, it, does not answer.
Enough, enough, enough.
I'm clawing at my skin again, red welts appearing on my pale skin.
My hands fumble on the abused body. I find the slippery hilt of the blade in her, the corpse's, chest.
My stained hands are shaking.
The knife, guided by my hands, rises in an arc before my chest.
Enough, enough, enough.
My chest explodes in pain and relief.
It's not enough.
YOU ARE READING
Flash Fiction
Short StoryA collection of short stories, ranging in lengths between 100 words and 1000 words, although mine are usually 200 words long. Various genres from different prompts included. (False Advertising on the cover, I know.) Mature themes and language It's b...
