Disclaimer: no copy right infringement intended. These characters are all the mind work of Mr. Harris; however these situations are of my own mind.
The light hum of a dryer reverberated through the chilly home. The soft sound of music resonated throughout the house and down the stairs straight into his ears. The lyrics were being sung by an airy female voice. "Drink up baby down, mm are you in or are you out? Leave your things behind because its all going off with out you, excuse me, too busy, your writing your tragedies, mishaps you bubble wrap when you have no idea about your lives, let go, if you let go, then jump in, you'll know what your waiting for, it's alright cause theirs beauty in the break down" The sound was soft and soothing in a way to him. Suddenly the station was switched and rock sounded throughout the house. "I walk down a lonely road, the only one I have ever known, don't know where it goes, but its home to me and I walk alone. I walk this empty street on the boulevard of broken dreams…" The sound was broken with a few small sobs that came from a room just at the end oh the hall in which he stood.
"Clarice?" he slowly moved down the hall to a slightly ajar door. It was her laundry room; he knew that from his late night visits while she slept. As he drew closer the sobs grew louder then abruptly ended. "Clarice? Are you alright?" she could hear his voice. "Pshht, get out of my head Lecter." She whispered, thinking it was all a figment of her imagination. He silently pushed the door further into the room; she wouldn't hear this due to the blaring of the radio sitting next to her. She sat on the floor her back against the dryer. To her upper left arm she held her pocket knife, its metallic glint flicking around the room. Clarice took a breath and slowly dragged it across her freckled, porcelain skin. A line of crimson appeared and quickly turned into a long, humongous glop of blood that slid down her arm, pinking and scaring it.
Another set of sobs escaped her lips. Her upper arm was riddled with fresh cuts and scars. At the exact moment she turned off the radio he stepped on a squeaky floor board. Her eyes shot to his in terror. She immediately stood up, turning to the other door to her laundry room. With out thinking he jolted towards her and grabbed her bloody left arm, making her scream. He forthwith let go and let her run. He slowly looked down to his hands. Each was smothered in his dear Clarice's blood, shed at her own choosing. "Clarice is a cutter?" his mind was ablze with fear, pain and understanding.
A/N: Ok. If you know anyone who cuts, it is very, VERY important to tell someone about it. Cutting is a life threatening and common problem in teens. So please, if you know someone that cuts, tell someone about it. Also if you need to talk to someone just e-mail me.This is a very personal story to me becauseI've been a cutter for almost four years and perhaps I could understand and help.