She sat on the floor in her little pink bathroom. Her arm stretched over the bath, red flowing down. She gently laid her head against the edge of the bathtub, letting the feeling recede from her body. There was a light knock on the door.
"Raynie, what are you doing?" Her sister called softly.
"I'm taking a bath. Go away!" Raynie yelled gently. Her sister walked away silently, oblivious to what was going on behind the door.
Raynie slowly rinsed off the blood and held a towel against her bleeding arm, slowing the bleeding to a near stop. She was cleaning the wounds when the door behind her opened. In the doorway, her brother stood, staring at her exposed arm. His heart broke at the sight.
"Raynie, I thought we were over this." his voice was heavy with tears. "I thought you were better."
She had finished bandaging the cuts and stood to look him in the eyes.
"As long as I'm alive, I'll never be better, Travis." She replied, her voice unwavering. She walked past him and into her room, to return her blades to their hiding place.
YOU ARE READING
A Pessimist's Fiction
Truyện NgắnShort stories, written by me. Topics will be varied but most will probably have a dark theme. (Two uploads have disappeared and I'm working on rewriting them...)
