Blood isn't something I can easily forget the smell of.
I wouldn't want to. Getting hurt, feeling that sensation of your life force trickling out onto the ground is valuable. It lets you know that you're alive. That can you feel. And right now, the cuts feel good. They're only small little things, except the one on my left hand. It stretches over my palm like a parachute and comes to rest at the base of my wrist. The shattered glass is lying around me as if each piece is a soldier wounded on the battlefield. The analogy lacks creative thinking, since I am the one responsible. Those people, they lay strewn around me in the same way. When I had no choice but to end their assaults. Not all of them – I didn't get that far – but most of them. They might have had families, but so did I. Once. Leaning beyond my other self's stupor, I snag the largest piece of glass and sluice it across my palm. More blood. The possibility of fainting becomes more likely by the second. Making myself weaker will throw them off the scent. Shouts echo from the base of the house and I can't help it – I smile.
They think it's that easy to drown me out.
It isn't. I always, always return.
I will always be part of two.
YOU ARE READING
Me & Her
Mystery / ThrillerCOMPLETE!! After three years spent in a coma, a girl awakens to a life she barely knows, a distraught Mother whom she does not remember, and a crippling fear of her secondary personality. Faced with missing memories and a psychiatrist with an agend...
