Author's Notes: Written for the Off the Block Competition. Race: Backstroke. Category: Hard.
Prompt: "Write a drabble (100 to 500 words) without using the words 'very' or 'the.'"
Warning for self-injury.
I'm not crazy.
It echoes in your head until you think you might go mad. Voices warping and twisting, spilling through your head like a maelstrom. Craziest carnival ride you've ever been on, and it's just beginning, isn't it?
I'm not crazy, nothing is wrong with me, and yet thin red lines slash up your arm, thin red lines collect on your thigh, and your safety razor glitters with baleful intent every time you step into a shower.
"Are you all right, Ginny?" they ask you, but you nod, shove away questions with angry stares and pointed silences. You can't acknowledge it, even to yourself.
Sharp edges glitter, and time loses meaning, and when you come back to yourself, you are sitting in a loo with a palmful of blood, redder than your hair, and your arm stings like mad, worse than it's ever been.
"I'm crazy," you whisper, and thin red lines mock you, like they always have.