Dark room
She can barely see her hands, which should be shaking...
Quaking under the enormity of what she is about to do...
Hard chair
Feeling like a plush armchair...
She finds the straight uncomfortable back a solace to her soul
Cold blade
Glinting in the moonlight that creeps in through drawn curtains...
Winking at her...
Taunting her...
Daring her to do it if she thinks she is brave enough...
Cream and peaches skin
A canvas for her gruesome, beautiful artwork...
Networks of scars
Each a story on it's own
Raised skin on her wrists,
Blemishes on her arms
Beautifully hideous...
A storm of emotions
A raging whirlpool, a screaming vortex
Threatening to draw her in, **** her into it's depth...
She screams internally, looking for a way out,
Begging for a form of release before she is lost as a sailor at sea.
And blade meets skin
In a whisper, a split second,
In a flash of steel, and a splash of red
The dam breaks open...
She sighs, relief coursing through her...
As she escapes her inner turmoil...