Blood

chapter one

I'm addicted. I should have known before now, but it eluded me. I know for a fact now. I am addicted. The ruby red, thick, salty substance that keeps us all alive. I'm talking about blood. I am addicted to blood.

I remember purposefully falling down, from trees, fences, anything that would get me injured enough to bleed. I then would sit, in sick fascination, as blood would well and drip.

My mother would find me, then scream, usually about my idiotic tendencies and clumsiness. She would splash burning water and rubbing alcohol. She would bandage me up, and then go on her way.

It slowly got worse. I would find myself scraping a sharp razor against my skin. Soon crimson droplets would bead against the ivory flesh. My breath would catch in my throat. Eyes wide in anticipation.

It soon got even worse. But I didn't realize it then. I only realize it now, sitting in my little white cell.