So this is where it ends huh? With me sitting in the middle of the floor of my room...with a knife. All the taunting, all the teasing. It all replays in my mind. I press the steel to my rist and start dragging it across. I realize that the knife could never cut as deep as those words that had been said to me. Knives can at least be pulled out if you still have the nerve to live but words...words are imbedded in your soal.
(I do not promote suicide in anyway. It just made for a good short story. This chapter is not up for any public interpretations.)
YOU ARE READING
I Sing A Sad Song
Historia Cortathis is a collection of short stories that I made up. short stories are the only way I can wright and not get wrighters block though XD
