Scar Tissue [2Doc]

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  {TRIGGER WARNING: SELF HARM}

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My hands get sweaty and clammy as I hold the naked blade in between my pointer and thumb. I eye the shiny object, squinting and admiring it's sharpness before my eyes. I shouldn't be doing this, I know I shouldn't... but my arm is itching for it. It's a bad habit I kicked a while ago, but I feel I need it now more than ever. 

Carefully, I bring the small blade to my forearm and smoothly, yet roughly slide it across the other end.

Ahhh, fuck.

This pain, this calming pain. The blade feels cold against my skin, the seeping blood feels hot. Its an amazing hot and cold sensation. I like it.

Blood pools in the small incision before I tilt my arm, watching the satisfying drip of crimson run down my arm. The skin around the cut is starting to bruise and puff up. It throbs, it hurts, it burns, and I like it. 

I slice my skin a couple more times before I let out the breath I've been holding. Out comes a long, loud sigh whilst I sit back against the bed frame. I close my eyes, patiently waiting for my heartbeat to slow. This rush of adrenaline is what I needed.  

Silence. Silence soon engulfs the small room. I like this peace. And I like the pain accompanying it. 

My arms fall to my sides in a relaxed position. How long has it been since I last cut myself? I try to think... I don't remember. I tried alcohol as a substitute, but I didn't like the heavy headed feeling. What I wanted was to feel alive. Cutting my flesh and seeing blood did it for me.

I open my eyes slightly and tilt my head to the left, taking a look at my puffy scar tissue covered arm. I like the look of them. I tilt my head to the right and look at my fresh wounds. I like the look of these too. I wonder how they'll heal. 

My thoughts are soon interrupted by my phone ringing, snapping me back to reality. I lean over to the bedside table and glance at the phone screen. 

Murdoc Niccals calling...

I mentally roll my eyes. What does this guy want? I swiftly pick up the phone and slide my finger across the screen to answer the call. 

"Hey Murdoc, whatchu' wan?" A groggy voice escapes my throat. I sound tired.

"Hey D! How ya doing mate?" Murdoc sounds excited, perhaps he's tipsy. 

"Well I-" 

I don't get the chance to finish my response because as soon as I open my mouth, his loud mouth barges in, not caring as to what I have to say. 

"That's bloody great! Listen, wanna come have a drink with me and some buddies in our old pub? How 'bout it, huh? I havn' seen you in a while, let's get together an' catch up!" 

Well... I guess that doesn't sound like too bad an idea. I haven't been out of my apartment in days. I need to get some air. Murdoc burps loudly from the other side of the line, waiting for a response. I cringe at the burp.  

"Uhh, sure mate," I say, rather slowly. 

"Brilliant! I'll pick you up in an hour, tops. See you soon dents!" 

With that, the line goes dead. Dents... What a stupid nickname. It's been ages since I seen Murdoc and the gang. Noodle I see more often than others, but hell. It's been too long with him. I didn't want it to be awkward with our past dangling above us if we ever did hang out.

First best friends, then friends with benefits... 

It was a toxic cycle of going back and fourth. I wonder if he still thinks of our long forgotten past. 

[EDITED]