"One."
One cut. She does not feel it. The pain has been reduced to a slight tingle.
She holds the knife tighter.
Presses harder.
Moves faster.
Again and again.
Until the flesh of her arms is covered in beautiful red gashes.
And still she does not feel.
She lets out a low growl deep in her throat as tears begin to fall down her face.
Her body is shaking with sobs.
She is angry at herself.
At her weakness and her tears.
She is cutting everywhere, slashing the blade across any skin she can reach.
Her fingers are tugging at her hair and running over her face.
She can't breathe.
She sinks to the floor and there she sits.
Her legs are curled to her chest and her chin rests on her knees.
She stays this way until the crying ceases.
Until her breath returns.
The misery fades and she wipes old tears from her cheeks.
Still she does not feel.
Picking up the knife, she begins again.
"One."