My sharp knife is held against my palm. Watching blood fill the fresh slice, where an old scar was before. I feel a tug as I pull the blade from my hand. The pain I once felt inside has now been numbed. I wipe the blood from the wound, then leave my bedroom but not before safely tucking my knife under my mattress wrapped in a dish rag. I now will leave my home to face the crowded hallways. The smell of paper. Only to encounter the same people day after day, my bullies. The ones who call me names the ones who say I'm a geek. The one's who say have a guy's name. The ones who call my name, giving my a false sense of hope that someone might like me. Only to trip me.
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Story Of A Cutter
Teen FictionThis is not about me. Welcome to the deep dark mind of a cutter. I am Jordan. I guess I should just come right out and tell you this, I am a cutter. My wrists, legs, arms, and stomach hold my pain. They show what I am going through, I have kept it a...