I watched the blood flow.

The pain was delicious.

I lifted the blade from my wrist and placed it on the sink next to me.

I watched the blood form small pockets then slide to the right into another and another and another then, as the large droplet slid to the right and off my wrist and into the sink below.

Again and again it repeated, for minutes, possibly twenty went by.

I placed the cloth of pure alcohol on my wrist and let the pain set in. After the initial burn and shock to my system was through, I wiped at it and wrapped my wrist tight. Again relishing in the burn.

I washed the blade, a carpet knife replacement blade, and laid it above me on top of the medicine cabinet where Ludwig won't find it. I took the blade from the package he bought me to cut up old canvases with. He won't know its missing.

I pulled my tank top on quickly as I heard the front door open and close.

"Herzchen?"

I shut my eyes, "Merda."

I pulled a hoodie on to cover my arm and wrists.

He wasn't supposed to be home for the next few days. He and Gilbert, high-ranking officers in the Army, were supposed to be out in Berlin for another week. Gilbert, Ludwig's brother, has a new girl who just moved back to her native country, Canada, so Ludwig was supposed to take time out of his vacation time with me to help train the new recruits. Now he's home a week early.

I pulled the sleeves down over my hands and tussle my hair. The counter seemed to be screaming to me, "Hit me, Slam your wrist here! Feel the pain, the delicious pain."

My actions were faster than my thoughts, I watched as my wrist connected with the edge of the granite countertop. Tears welled in my eyes as the sting of the strike set in. I quickly wiped my eyes and walked down the stairs as Ludwig called again.

"Feliciana? Are you okay?"

I prepped myself on the second to last step. Happy and cheerful, that's all. I stepped down the last stair.

"Luddy! I missed you!" I jumped up into his arms and he spun me around.

"What was that thud? Are you okay?" Ludwig asked, very protective of my well-being and all that. So I lied a bit.

"I hit my arm," not a lie. "It really hurt," but I liked it. "I cried a bit and heard you call again, so I hurried down," no I didn't. "And I composed myself before I came all the way down," I did. So I didn't lie too much… but then again, I didn't tell the whole truth.