I got this idea when I was quite depressed so it might be quite harsh. I´m sorry if it offends you or you find it too cruel to Loki or something like that, I´m sorry. You´ve been warned.

„What´s the matter? Scared of little lightning?" I didn´t think I would ever hate somebody as much as I hate this so-called-soldier. He reminded me of some events I didn´t really want to recall. The darkest times of the deepest despair and misery. The times when I really didn´t feel quite well.

„I´m not overly fond of what follows," I murmur because that´s all I´m able to say. I have to manage this. I can´t let the memories take me over. I have to fight it, I have to be strong. Inhale, exhale. I can manage this.

I can´t. In a moment, flashes of deeply burried memories are awakening. I can´t stop it.

I know this situation very well. I´ve seen it so many times in my nightmares I hoped I wouldn´t have to experience it again. I´m clutching the knife which is my biggest enemy and best friend in one. I´m biting my lip, hard, the blood is running down my chin. I don´t pay attention to it. In fact I barely notice it. I feel much worse pain, the one which can´t get better with few stitches and plaster. No. This injury is too deep, too serious to be cured. I will never recover, the question is – will I be able to live with it? Will I want to? Will I ever be able to go on with my life?

I won´t have scars. They´re too common. I will have opened wounds, deep, painful and incurable. My soul has been damaged and there is no way to get back. I won´t die. I will suffer from this pain forever, forever with mind torn into milion pieces, unable to feel anything but pain and mistrust.

I had believed, I had trusted, I had had dreams. I had been silly and childish, but I can´t pretend I´m the same person anymore. I had trusted one person, I´d given him everything, my whole personality, I´d shown him my fears, my heart, my dreams and he used it. Against me. To prove he was strong, to show me how fragile I was, to make me fear every breath I took. To show me how deep was the pit of misery and desperation, to make me touch the very bottom. To make me feel such a pain I´m not even able to describe it. To make me want to die – if only I could. I tried to kill myself, but I´m too frightened to do so. What if he waits for me there, on the other side? What if it´s even worse? What if I just disappear and only the pain remains, with no real possibility to vanish?

I´m kneeling, sitting on my ankles, left index finger mindlessly dancing on the tip of the knife. The blade is shining dimly in the pale rays of moonlight coming here through the window. Rain drops are flowing down the glass as if even stars cried over me. Which is not true, of course. Nobody cares about me, and if he does it´s just to make me frightened, to hurt me. Tiny dribblet of blood gleams on the peak of my finger and quickly runs away, down my forearm, falls from my elbow and soakes into the fabric of my trousers. I watch the scarlet path it left on my hand and move the knife farther to my wrist, pressing it against the palm of my hand to open the wound, but tenderly enough not to make it too serious. The pain makes me weep but I know it´s neccessary. This is the only way how to forget the pain in my soul, at least for a while. It won´t disappear, I´m not that naive, but I will ignore it for a little while.

I blink few times to fight tears back, but I´m not successful. They´re pouring from my eyes without care whether I want to cry or not. I watch the red line which breaks the paleness of my left hand. The steel of the knife shines coldly, assuring me I´m silly to dream about getting better. It laughs at me and I know it pretty well. Everybody has always been laughing at me. Why this frosty piece of metal should be different? Just because I trust it enough to see my tears, to touch my blood? Maybe I´m stupid, to share such an intimacy with any thing. After what happened I should destroy this knife and find some new because it knows too many of my secrets. I don´t want anybody to find out what is the matter with me. Never. Because I´m too hurt, too damaged and too ashamed to even think about it. There is only one person who knows everything about all the pain I´ve ever felt and that´s me. And it shall stay like this.

The blade of the knife opens another wound. It bleeds much more than the previous one and it also hurts more. I let my head fall back, almost close my eyes and breathe deeply as the ceiling above my head begins to melt, swirl and slowly disappears. I´m falling deeper to my misery, back, back to the hurtful event, right into the centre of all the pain. I want to scream but I can´t, I´m afraid he would come.

Thanks for reading, it means quite a lot to me. Will you please leave me a review? *puppy eyes*