Cut 2

    As I stepped into the cold, silent house, I left bloody smudges on the wall and floor. It was like stepping into a dead house. The prints of my fingernails trailing on the wall looked as if some monster was pulling me toward hell and I grasped to the wall, like horror movies. But this wasn’t a movie and the only monster in the house was I. if I was the monster…I would have to kill myself. I could arrange that…

Wait! What was I saying? I wasn’t the monster, I’m running from him! I walked toward the creaky stairs and sat on the wooden step for a moment. Well, I had escaped him once more…for now. But what about when the sun came down again? What would I do then huh? I couldn’t keep running all my life like prey from predator. I would rather kill myself than have to see his face again, that would kill me too but slower and more painfully. Would I dare…?

    I didn’t finish my thoughts and decided to let that thought drift away. For that thought to come true…No! That’s too much guilt to pay.

    I held on to the now bloody rail and trudged my way upstairs, into the bathroom. If my brother came home and found me like this he would do what he did last time. I don’t like what he does. It’s horrible. I realized I had arrived when I felt the cold glass against my fingers and the smooth marble against my toes. I flicked on the off switch; sending blood drops flying all over the mirror. I looked at my mournful reflection in the mirror.

    My short, black dress and black and white stockings were ragged and looked like I cut them up a thousand times with scissors. My hair was matted down and distorted at certain places; the blood gave it a reddish tint from its usual black color. My once pale skin was now a series of cuts and bruises like a pattern of squares on a checkerboard. And yet, I looked beautiful.

    I sat down in the white bath tub and turned on the cold water at maximum. The sudden coldness of the water on my injuries burned but also felt wonderful and refreshing. My stiff muscles relaxed but my lungs, petrified in the sharp water, wouldn’t respond to my breathing. I tried to breathe but only short gasps of air would result. It didn’t matter; I was going to die anyways so what’s the point?  I just lay there, unable to move, and thought about what I should do. Should I clean up and act as if nothing had happened again and please my brother? If I smile and don’t believe, soon I know I’ll wake from this dream. Then should I tell him the truth and await my punishment? Or maybe I should…? The same thought from before! How could I even think of doing such a thing? But then again…

        Yes, I could see no other way out, I had to, and it was the only easy way out of life. When I’m so alone, I find a back door out of life. Who would miss me? No one, everyone who I knew wanted to kill me and I wanted to get away from then. Once I killed myself, all would be happy. Even if I didn’t want to accept it, it was the truth.

    I opened one of the drawers under the sink and searched for a small blade. I held it in my hand, and thought about what I wanted to do. Then I completed my thought: would I dare kill myself, attempt suicide?