A light grin crossed over my face, almost calm. I hum happily as I cross the room to the table. Gingerly, almost carefully, I pick up a pair of fine knives. I returned to the chair. I'm calm. So very calm. My breathing is slow and even, brushing gently along smooth skin. My breath caresses the face in front of me, almost lovingly. Half-lidded eyes and a mouth crossed in the barest trace of a smirk. I start above the eyebrows. Slowly, softly. I like you alive. I trace swirls and easy, waving lines in blood. Scars. Beautiful scars. The best kind of mark. Always mine. No escape. All alone.