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Abigail Sep 2014
It starts slowly
One here, one there
Never more than ten
Always more than five
She thrives on the pain
Smiles as the blade draws blood
Dripping slowing
Coating her clothes
From white to red
The blood stain where it lands
The pain
The sorrow
The fear
The worry
The uncertainty
The innocence
Ebb and flow away

Weeks later it had increased
Always more than twenty
Never less
Deeper and deeper till she reaches bone
Only then will she be satisfied
Only then can she smile
Only then can she wipe away the tears
Only then can she finally be happy once more
Only then can she feel whole again
Only then....

— The End —