He felt the glass rake across him, but his skin was too burnt to sting. Shards crunched under his cowering frame. A hundred razor blades tinkling within reach. Maybe that would be a better way to go? Faster. Easier? He tried to grip one, but it slipped against his blood soaked fingers.
So he had been cut already. He might not even feel another stroke. This time he held the shard in the fabric of his sleeve...
YOU ARE READING
Not Helping
Teen Fiction"School. Work. Home. That was all you had to do..." If Viviane Belodrome could keep her head in school, maybe everyone else would too instead of passing time trying to convince her of the Summit St. Savior. If Karin Orellana had gone straight to w...
