Jeanette loved to observe the blood flowing down through the drainage. As much twisted and wicked as it sounded, the dark liquid fascinated her, filled her nose with sweet smell and her mouth with irony taste.
She watched wordlessly as the blood flowed, tearless.
She couldn't even cry.
What is wrong with me?
Her mind was blank.
The sharp pain in the backside of her arm made her forget all the thoughts previously swirling through her mind.
A solitary droplet fell down onto the porcelain sink, finding its way to the drain in winding curves and spirals.
She watched with one hand above the sink and a razor in her other hand.
The razor was almost blunt - she needed to press with more force in order to draw blood.
When there was no more blood flowing down, only a sharp, stinging ache in her lower arm and a dull one in her chest, she turned the faucet to the side.
Cold water flowed down.
It flowed onto her skin ad through the freshly made wounds, glazing its way over the older ones as well.
She let the water drip down her arm for a good five minutes. It was freezing, numbing her arm.
When her fingers turned blazingly hot from the coldness, she switched the water off. She dried her arm, careful to avoid getting any bits of blood on the towel. She let the loose sleeve of her shirt fall down her arm, covering the scars and cuts.
She walked her dog for a brisk twenty minutes and continued the day normally, as if nothing had ever happened.
YOU ARE READING
Sharp Edges
RomanceWarning! The story contains mentions of self-harm, reader discretion is advised The story of Jeanette, a girl who met Oscar, found friends, fell in love, got her heart broken, fell and got up again.
