To be perfectly honest, I don't publish stories (so this is a first for me)… I enjoy righting, and creativity has always ban one of my strongest suits, but I eternally lack confidence. Despite my previous incompetence's, this time something is different. For one reason or another I fell compelled to share me latest story… A lot of it is from my own life. Its a story fabricated to tell my emotions. … So hear I go.

Chapter One

One… two … three… I took a deep breath and cut deep in to my skin. The rough blade of the kitchen knife tarring through my young, tender flesh. Wanting to hurt my self… needing to feel the pain, I cried and sang at the same time. I didn't know any other way to escape my self.

How could he leave me!

Sobbing now, I saw that blood was spilling down my arm- just a small trickle, not enough. I cut deeper. Needing to escape. The pain intensified, not because of the physical damage I was doing, but because I was remembering… remembering that he didn't want me any more. More and more cuts appeared on my arms, but not enough…

Damn knife, why aren't you helping? …I thought he loved me… why… why dose my heart hurt so much…

Slumping to the floor, I was finally too physically exhausted to continue. My head pounded, my lungs tightened, and I cried. Long moments passed, hours could have elapsed and I would not have known it. I lost all sense of time and self. My world disappeared and I became nothing more than a writhing mass of internal pain. Somewhere something inside of me brought me back to reality. Immediately I realized the stupidity of my actions. But my heart… It felt like it was being ripped form my body.

Once I calmed down a bit, the initial adrenalin gone, I took a good look at my self. A thick red liquid was pooled all around me, and my carpet was soaked. Now present with myself I smelled the rank odder of drying blood. It was All I could do, not to throw up (I cant stand blood – what was I thinking?) my body suddenly reeled, and I lost control of myself. I knew I was going to pass out even before my body made a strait line for the floor. My last conches thought was-

This will be Hell to clean up when I come to…

But I never came back… I died