Chapter 27 - by Sugar Faerie

Cheeky

I found my razor. I didn't even know I had it. Seal confiscated the knife I usually used.

I was frustrated, reduced to using my nails instead, but then I found it, loosly sewn into the elastic of my skirt. The first blade I ever used, the one I had all those years ago when I first came here. Here... there, I mean.

I must have sewn it there for safe keeping. I didn't notice it because I sewed some more elastic over it, and eventually forgot I had.

Until now.

I pull up my glove, wanting it so badly... The pain in my mind's so great, a fear I can't control. This I can control.

The blade pricks my skin, and feel the relief wash over me. Slowly I drag the razor down my arm, watching the blood well up behind it.

My pain drips away like a dark red river.

I don't know why they say it's wrong... It doesn't hurt, it stops it. Well, it does hurt... but that's different.

Have you heard the story of The Little Mermaid? Seal used to read fairytales to Hamster sometimes, when she was younger. I'd listen in occasionally, bored because I don't like fairy stories, but one of them struck me.

Knives. The Little Mermaid danced on knives.

Lets just say it didn't seem like punishment to me.

The blood drips onto the floor as the door opens.

"Chuck her in here," a voice says. "There's only one in here... Won't be any trouble when she wakes up."

I jump as a body hits the floor. I recognise it.

Genesis. She just lies there, on her stomach, her head turned slightly towards me.

I touch her shoulder. She doesn't wake up. I call her name, as best I can. She doesn't wake up. Her eyes are firmly shut, but she's still breathing. They must have knocked her out, guessing by the massive bruise on her forehead.

I hesitate, the give her a gentle poke with the razor, to see if that will wake her. It doesn't. I cut a bit further, and she still doesn't move.

My blade is bloody. So is the place where I cut. I lean foreward, intrigued that I could do this to her.

I cut a bit further.

Swiftly my blade does it's work, carving out a picture while I guide it. Genesis doesn't move, and I can't help giggling, because in a way, she's missing out on all this.

Her blood stains my hands, turning them red. Satisfied that it's completed, I sit back to admire my handywork.

The Heartbreak. My home, the only place I felt safe. Now drawn in blood.

Then, my breath nearly stops. Genesis is stirring.

Will I get in trouble?

I don't have time to find out, because the door swings open again.

The guard in the doorway looks from me, to Genesis, to the blood on the floor. "Holy sht!" he curses, looking slightly disgusted.

He sees me, the blood on my hands, and the razor I'm still holding. "Good god..." he breathes. "You little witch..." He calls back to his friends. "Mates, check it out! They're carving up their own now!"

They swear, laugh, look at me almost in admiration. Genesis is taken away, along with my savior, the razorblade.

And I'm left here, with Genesis' blood.

The blood that I let fall.