Just a little bit more. I know its short but hey, its late, can you blame me?
I slowly turn the knife over in my hands. It feels cold and smooth except for the edge. That edge is jagged and rough. It feels as though it has been smashed against something hard like stone; probably from her dropping it. That edge is still stained as well. Its not red like you might expect it to be but there is still a trace of something there; a part of her still left on the blade, making it lose its lustre.
I think it did that to me too, that night. Seeing her like that took something from me, nothing big or remarkable but just enough for me to notice. Well, maybe a little more than that. It makes me sad because I thought she had overcome that part of her life. I thought she was happier than she was then. I thought those old wounds had healed. I guess I was wrong.
It upsets me more to think that she couldn't trust me. I did so much for her last time to try and help and we became so close. But then when something important happens to her she doesn't even tell me and she just drifts further away. I just don't understand the way she has been acting.
She is avoiding me. Has been since that night. Any time I try to talk to her she just looks at me with that same fear in her eyes. That same sorrow. And its killing me seeing her like this. Its killing me not being able to help her: to make her pain and fear go away.