Ever since I was little, I've always hated the smell of blood. It's so strong and makes you dizzy, smells just like copper. I can handle blood, I'm not very squeamish, but...the smell....it stays in my nose...That was the first thing I thought when it entered my abdomem, right above my naval. The smell. Then the pain. As it pierced through my flesh, it burned. They twisted the blade, churring my muscles into a bloody bramble of sliced skin and meat. Then they took it out. Then back in. Over and over, spewing my bodily fluids over their hands, the floor, the knife. Why me? Out of everyone, why me? Maybe I deserve it. White hot searing pain came back as he then thrusted the knife upward. Cutting all of my muscle until he reached the rib cage. Which he simply stabbed more. He then punched me. As if a knife wasn't enough. My nose was bleeding, pouring into my open mouth, which was already pooled inside. He finally stood up, apparently he didn't want the knife, for he lifted his leg and stomped the blade further into my chest. Then he left. As I lay bleeding, waiting for death, I just thought. "He always did know how to make me happy...but maybe....he took it too far this time.."
