BLAIRE'S POV
I sat in my bed trying to read a novel but I just couldn't focus. I was looking at the faded vertical lines on my wrist. I remember making them. I remember the sting. I remember how the red liquid would gush out of my wrist, run down my arm, and drip to the floor.
I slumped down on my pillow and stared at the ceiling. I got up and slipped into the bathroom. I looked at myself in the mirror. Dark circles around my eyes, messy hair, and pair of pajama shorts with a tank top.
I grabbed it out of the medicine cabinet. I hid it under a lotion bottle like at my old house. I looked in the mirror and swiped the blade across my neck. Blood ran down my chest all the way to my toes then fell to the floor.
I thought about that day dream for a minute and asked myself if I should do it. I decided to do what I came here to do.
I slide the crisp, sharp blade across my wrist. I watched the blood pour out just as I remembered. As I was about to cut another line I heard a voice that startled me.
"If your trying to kill yourself, cut vertically. They can't stitch that up."
"Tate! What are you doing here? How did you get into my house?"
He laughed a wicked laugh.
"If you're trying to kill yourself, you might also try locking the door."
Tate shut the door as I stood there confused. I cleaned up the mess and hid the blade again. I walked back to my bed and laid down with all my thoughts. They kill me, I swear. I don't know if I can take it anymore. Maybe I'll just end it all here. Maybe....
