Whispers In The Dark

Victoria

Victoria

Jessiah called me the next night with questions.

"What the hell, Jessiah?" I hissed into the phone. "It's none of your business, for God's sake."

"Just one question, please," he begged.

I sighed and, ironically, twirled one of the blades between my fingers. "Hurry up, Jessiah," I grumbled, irritated. I ran the blade over my skin, sucking in a breath as it stung faintly. A thin line of blood appeared instantaneously.

Hi voice was soft. "Why do you do it?"

I repeated the action, but this time the cut was bigger, deeper. "It's kind of a distraction, I guess. To forget one pain by focusing on another."

"But doesn't it hurt to do that to yourself?"

I didn't comment on him asking more than one question. I was too engrossed in what I was doing and our conversation. "Not as much as you'd think. To be honest, it feels kind of good. To see your skin opening up and the very thing that keeps you alive leaving your body, and you're controlling it... It's like a rush. It takes your mind off the emotional pain and focuses it on the physical."

"How can you keep doing it if you know that you're only hurting yourself?" he asked incredulously.

Beads of blood pooled on the surface on my skin. I dragged my index finger across the dark red substance, smearing it across my skin and watching as the cut turned red with fresh blood. I exhaled, suddenly feeling extremely drained. "Don't ever start, Jessiah, because once you start, it becomes the hardest thing in the world to stop."