Darkness fills my mind, and my heartbeat quickens as I feel something suffocating me. My breaths turn shallow, and a deep longing shoots across my limbs. Trying to take deep breaths, I attempt to calm down, yet the demons in my head prevail.
Silent tears run down my face as I search around my room frantically for something that I know will help slow things down- to release the pressure rooted deep inside me. Pulling my belongings apart I find exactly what I am looking for.
The thin silver blade feels cold in the palm of my hand. I run into my bathroom and slam the door, barely hearing the bang. I sit on the cold toilet seat and gently pull my sleeves up to view the pale, unscarred skin. I feel a sense of urgency, yet I take time to tease the blade across, to feel the sharpness against my skin. I sigh as I apply pressure, pressing down harder, and harder as I pull the blade across.
The effect is instantaneous.
I feel a brief moment of pain, before something enters my body and vanquishes the darkness.
I look down, and see a bubble of blood forming across the cut, getting bigger and bigger before it bursts. A red, warm liquid starts flowing down my arm, along with the tension in my body.
Instant relief.
I do it again, and again, until I finally stop.
My body warms up, and I start feeling tingles all over. A clarity comes into my mind, slowly, as I re-enter the real world. I look around my small bathroom and notice the blood which contrasts clearly against the white tile floors. Blood drops have also dripped down my arm and are now beginning to turn into brown, ugly clots.
The instant relief suddenly turns dark, and messy. It turns into guilt, which fills my mind and starts choking me. Shuddering, I start pressing down onto my wounds to stop the bleeding, and cleaning any blood stains. I wrap bandages tightly across my arm and quickly pull my long sleeves over. Splashing cold water on my face, I wipe off the tear tracks before staring at myself in the mirror.
I force myself to smile, and continue doing so until I feel that I look exactly as I should.
All done, all hidden.
I am again the picture of perfection as I should be. A royal moroi: Princess Vasilisa Dragomir. The only Dragomir left.
A/N: Please review. I am also debating whether to continue this and turn it into a series of one-shots. Constructive criticism welcome, although please nothing rude or offensive, this is a very personal story.