A Thousand Words.
- Reads 281
- Votes 3
- Parts 3
Ongoing8m
Last published Sat, Sep 28, 2013
RATED R, sexual content!!! you were warned! 1,2...46,... 67,68... Trust me, I could count them forever. Each lump, swelled, slightly pinker line up my wrists, leg, side. Each one of them holds a memory. You could point to anyone and ill write you a 500 paged essay about why I decided to hold the blade in my hand and slide it smoothly across my skin. Like this one- when my sister died. Oh! And don't forget this one!- when I tried to kill myself. The feeling of the slight pain, and the tickling sensation is all the relief I need. It's my drug. I'm addicted. Some people shoot liquids into their blood too see things that make them think they are happy. What I do, is I break my skin in one solid line, to let my anger out, and to actually be happy. I was always called artistic when I was young. I loved color, design, the feeling of a steady hand gliding across paper, or with a paintbrush in my hand, painting a sturdy line to make something important. I also make special art. The canvas is my skin, the crayon, my blade. It's simple actually. The moment was too much. Yeah, I told Danika that I wouldn't do it anymore, but I couldn't help it! My blood BOILED! I ran up too my room, tossed my book bag filled with two binders of empty paper as of the start if my 11th year in high school. Straight to my dresser, I gripped the handles and pulled out the drawer. My hands sifted through my panties, thongs and size C bras until something stung my finger. I froze. Then slowly pulled my hand out. A ball of crimson bubbled at the tip of my finger. I watched it until it burst and ran down my hand. I pinched my thumb and my index finger together and felt the warm liquid slide beneath my touch. I grabbed the blade that stuck my finger and ran to my privet bathroom, sat at the edge of the tub, turned on the water too hot, and let my mind wonder as I watched the clear liquid tint pink.
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I'm about to tell you a story about a girl. A normal girl. A girl that had no cares in the world, until her trust for it was stripped away. When you read her story, you'll find yourself trusting her, loving her, rooting for her. But you see, not everyone gets to trust the world. Not everyone has a happy ending. --- Halfway through the kiss however, his attitude changed; instead of being a loving embrace, it became a fierce trap. His grip on her waist tightened, trapped her where she was instead of simply holding her where he wanted her. The hand in her hair grabbed a section of it, enforcing his demand for her not to go anywhere. Before she knew what was happening, he left go of her hair, and pushed her to the ground. She gasped, suddenly able to breathe. He stood up and walked over to her. He placed a soft hand on her cheek, just like he used to when he was telling her how special she was to him. None of the emotion was there this time however, all she could feel radiating from his was rage. "You shouldn't have run off, babe," he said bitterly. "I was about to show you how much I loved you. Instead, I now have to show you what happens when you anger me." --- The men regarded her, before she was shoved to the ground and one produced a whip. There, laying broken on the floor, as the other girls watched, she was whipped. Slowly, she felt her skin breaking in time with her heart and her will.
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