Cut

Locking the door behind me I grabbed the white CD case stacked under many others on the dark brown table, heart pounding I opened it and slid out the sharp razor. I set it down and turn on my music to drown out everything besides my pain and anger.

Turning it in my hands three times I take a seat on my hard unmade bed. Slowly lifting up my jacket sleeve of my left arm the cold blade makes contact with my skin.

Few thoughts run through my mind before I start; mom, dad, family, drugs, depression.

A tear escapes and slides down my cheek before it dances on my lips making me taste the salty bitterness of my pain.

An inhale of breath before I give slight pressure to the blade and slid it across my arm, not my wrist, slowly, the slower it is the more it stings. There was no more room on my wrist in all honestly, scars went further and further down my arm day-by-day, week-by-week, whenever I felt the stress of life to unbearable.

Today I found out the man I believed was my birth father this whole time was not, in fact my biological father died last year. Now I can never find him, never know him, and never see if we are the same in anyway.

The stabbing pain in my heart left momentarily as my whole body went numb, feeling only the slight sting in my arm. Once the stinging stopped it felt as if everything was released in the small opening in my skin, pouring out alongside the blood that started to move slowly down my arm.

I sighed as I grabbed the dirty washcloth I kept under my bed; whipping blood from my arm I then cleaned the blade before placing it back in its hiding place not to be seen until life kicks me down once again.

I slowly waited for the bleeding to stop before pulling down my sleeves and wiping my tears. Fixing everything so I looked just as normal as before; I walked back out the room to face my own personal hell once again.