A Boy Better Than A Blade

Part 1

I can't feel pain, nothing works, my heart doesn't beat, I feel nothing at the touch of another human. I am impenetrable I have had so many walls built to protect myself that I can't even see myself anymore, no one can, no one wants to. I might as well be death itself and who could ever love death...

   *     *     *

I spin the broken razor blade across the top of my blood stained bath. As trusty as this blade was, it no longer serves its purpose, it's too fiddly to hold and too blunt to cut anything except the few layers of skin on my fingers from where I was holding it. I look at the tiny cuts on my fingers and pull at the skin with my opposite hand, I've never tried this before, maybe it will work! I pull a small chunk off of my pointer finger and examine it in the light, there are a few small drops of blood on it most likely from the blood currently pouring out of my right leg, but still. Nothing. I shouldn't have gotten my hopes up for that. I sigh and throw both the skin and my razor in the small, almost overflowing bin, beside me "I better get cleaning" I inform no one but myself. I quickly disinfect and patch up my leg, then move to the small storage room and grab the cleaning supplies.

"This is going to take some time".

*     *     *

After cleaning for what seemed like hours I had finally managed to remove any memory of blood from my bathroom; Ignoring the small drop of blood that had made its way into my bath mat. I check the time and realise I have missed both breakfast and lunch, mainly because of the cleaning, partially because I have no food in the house. I quickly neaten myself up and leave for the store, making it there in just under 10 minutes. The store itself isn't anything special, it just sits in the corner almost hidden from everyone else while still having enough customers to keep it open. It's fairly small but still carries almost everything you need to keep yourself alive, which is evident by the sheer fact that the cashier, Frank is still alive. No one knows how old Frank really is, but then again no one has ever bothered to ask, he just stands and the register with an empty look in his eyes.

"$5.9o" he mumbles as he bags my microwave Marconi and cheese, $5.90 I hand back to him with the fakest smile I could muster. Frank pushes the bag into my face and I leave knowing that if this were a restaurant, he would've put more spit than cheese in my food.

Another 10 minute trip back home and I'm microwaving my macaroni and throwing on some random Netflix movie. The macaroni is mediocre in taste, in texture I wouldn't know; although I can't feel I can taste and smell, this macaroni might be too hot and I wouldn't know, but I know it's still there because I can taste it. I don't know why and I don't particularly care, all I care about is feeling again. Not just pain, but touch, as well as certain emotions like: love, excitement, confidence and even some aspects of joy. I know when something makes me happy, I just don't feel the happiness.

But that's no ones fault but mine...

I finish the movie and throw away my empty macaroni box, this is how it always goes. I just wash, rinse and repeat, yet nothing changes. Not once in eight years has it worked, some would say I have the scars to prove otherwise, but the scars are only broken pieces of failure to me, a reminder of what I once lost and what I will never regain.

* * *

I walk into the same corner store I regularly visit; making sure to cover the many cuts and bruises carelessly painted across my body. I circle through the isles picking up items such as: razors, rope, plastic cutlery, and a lighter. As a whole these items serve no true purpose, but separately they can give me the one thing I want most, pain. I want pain I NEED pain, I need something anything as long as I can feel. I walk over to the cashier, a medium height, dyed dark blue haired boy with pristine pale skin, blue eyes and a small yet noticeable piercing on his left eyebrow; I place my items on the counter and look up. The boy appears to be new, he gives off an awkward smile and, with a delay in his words, opens his mouth to speak "h-hey I um, I um... that'll be $15.00 please" the sound of his deep and sweet voice ricochets directly into my ears.