Just One More

A very serious, personal topic I thought I should let others know about through writing.

She felt the cool steel run across her soft flesh, and with it came a slight pain.  It was the pain she wanted, the pain that comforted her when nothing else could.  The thin layer of skin parted, and she smiled as she saw the blood pour forth from the wound.  It was all so surreal, and yet, this is what she loved.

Just one more.

She sighed in relief as she drew the blade against her arm again, her palms now in a cold sweat.  She gripped the handle with more vigor than ever, and dug the blade a little deeper, loving the feeling of warm, scarlet blood running down to her wrist. 

Just one more.

She made a final cut below all the others, laughing at the euphoria now coursing through her severed veins.  She felt dizzy; her vision was blurred.  She dropped the knife and ran her fingers through the river of gore, counting each laceration as she passed by.  

One... Two... Three...

She fell onto the bed, her colors fading away.

Seven... Eight... Nine...

She fought to keep awake, but all her energy was spent.  She knew this was the end.  She did this to herself, and now she's paying the price.  She counted thirty cuts, among an infinite amount of others, before passing away. 

Author's Note

Feedback, but this was to get all of my pent up emotions out. Don't judge this piece harshly.

Reviews

[Rebecca Pall]

I like how you can portray such pain and feeling with true feelings to yourself. It was very interesting to read. Good work.

[Phoenix]

Thanks for stopping by! I appreciate the review!