Title: Cutting out Life.

Author: SweetlyDarkJenn (sweetlydarkme@aol.com)

Character: Draco Malfoy.

Rating: R

Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be, big clap for J. K. Rowling.

Feedback: Please?

Warning: Dealing with self harm.

Tiny cuts.

Tiny cuts, tiny slices, not enough to scar permanently; just enough to make a mark, just enough to show the world the pain I feel.

But I don't show the world.

My robes see to that.

I almost never roll up my sleeves now, unless I've marked the tops of my arms instead.

I try to stay within an area.

I don't mark any other part of my body.

I have a horrible feeling that if I started I wouldn't be able to 'control' this.

I start to laugh when I think I have control.

I don't have it; if I did I wouldn't cut. would I?

Am I really so abnormal?

I read things when I'm home for the summer, or for Christmas, things that tell me how abnormal I am.

Doctors journals that urge me (and all the other cutters) to get help, to not 'let this disease infect your lives' more than it has.

That also makes me laugh.

More than it has?

I don't think people quite understand.

Cutting is my life.