It so happened that the family had several kits that were used in dissecting dead
Creatures for school.
They were gone that day.
I needed blood.
I needed pain.
I needed something to arouse this current sensation in my body.
I remembered the kits.
It had been two years
But I still remembered.
I always remembered.
My tool.
My favorite.
The most effective device I have found yet.
The SCALPEL.
Razors.
Their gleaming points.
The nice thing about razors
Is that you can pull them across your skin and they won’t hurt until later.
But the blood,
The amount of blood a razor can produce in caparison to scissors
Or any other type of cutter can be the maximum for the type of stroke.
However,
Using this in relation to my favorite cutter is nothing.
You see, the thing about razors is that if you pull your stroke too weak
In the beginning or in the end you end up with razor burn.
Razor burn lasts weeks,
Leaves no mark,
Creates no blood,
And stings like
Hell.
Blood is what obsessed me
And that I what I needed to have when I psyched out.
However the family got wise to my frequent exploits and abducted all the razors.
Or so they thought.
All they did was turn me to a new device that proved far more
Effective.
A tragedy struck.
Something with the family.
My sister.
My stupid,
Stupid
Sister.
Older sister.
Now I’m the oldest out of all the siblings.
Ok, fine,
I can be the eldest if necessary.
Sister.
What a painful word.
What a sad, horrible word.
Sister.
Sister.
What kind of pain is this inside?
Just that word circles a set of events that took me down to
Razors.
A week later I busted my nose open myself.
Put my finger in it and slammed my face against the wall.
I took pictures with my camera.
Loved every minute of it.
I review them every once in a while to bring back the memories.
From there how did it progress?
How else?
Scissors never did touch my skin.
I went straight from scissors to razors.
With their tantalizing edges,
But I never got insane enough to cut deep.
Scratches and razor burns were all I really got up to.
I had never really seen blood in large quantities until one day—for no apparent Reason—
I got a bloody nose.
That was the last moment I can recall my sanity.
I had never in my life had a bloody nose.
Blood
Was a new concept for me.
It was a new taste.
A fantastic
Color.
A completely ideal
Sensation.
It was coming out of nose in gobs,
Running down my face,
Coating my hands.
Into my mouth.
That
Bitter
Sweet
Taste.
How wonderful.
I crave it even now.
Glorious mixture.
What type of a liquid can such a thing be?
Truly there must be some sort of
Demonic
Power over such a thing.
How can it be so strong and appealing?
I grabbed those scissors by their ends
And flung them outside of the bathroom.
I locked the door and fled behind the toilet.
But the damage was done.
Those scissors would always haunt me.
No one thought this was serious.
No one thought that this behavior was terribly out of the ordinary.
But just the attack wasn’t enough.
Suddenly during the attack I would start clawing my face and my arms with my Finger-nails.
Fortunately, these marks would never stay on my face and arms for very long.
But one day someone left a pair of scissors on the counter.
I stared at those scissors.
Their
Gleaming
Points
Were looking at me.
I crawled to the other side of the bathroom and clung to the walls.
Those scissors were looking at me,
Trying to come at me and tear me to pieces.
I screamed.
They were calling me,
Hounding me.
Then suddenly they were
Attacking
Me.
I hardly remember what I did, but everyone in the family saw me and told me that Whatever I do they didn’t want to see me psych out like that again.
I turned to the bathroom and started my mad panic attacks in there.
Whenever something would happen that I couldn’t handle I would walk calmly into The bathroom,
Curl up on the floor,
And sob like a child.
Sometimes I would make a silent scream.
Something that would rise in my throat, but I would never let it rise in volume.
The pitch was so high it was more like a shriek.
I began to drool and let it come out my mouth and make little puddles on the Linoleum floor.
After the attack would cease, I clean up my mess and walk out of the bathroom fully Composed.
How did it start?
I hardly remember how it started.
I remember I had gone crazy before.
The family had gotten into a fight, and I completely lost my mental capacities.
I began laughing and crying at the same time.
My nose ran and I curled up in a ball with my legs hugging my chest.
I couldn’t stop…what was it…was I laughing or crying?
I couldn’t tell.
I couldn’t think.
