I dragged the blade against my wrist making a perfect line. After a few seconds blood started creeping threw the paper thin slice. The crimson liquid so took over the cut and started dripping down my arm. I ripped of a piece of toilet paper and dabbed away at the wound, clearing up all of the blood so only in the morning, a scar would lay upon my wrist. They are reminders. Every scar I have is from a war that I have lost. But it's exactly what depprision is. You either win or die trying.
I hoped you like chapter one of my new novel. I know that this chapter was short but it was just an intro. If you like it please vote, comment and follow for more! Stay peculiar my weirdos!
YOU ARE READING
Scars
Teen FictionThey all had there suspicions and theories on how I got all the scars and cuts, but I never thought they would find out and send me to "the place".
