Chapter 61 : Help me

I suddenly stopped pacing right in front of my wardrobe. I had wanted to leave it longer than that. I hadn’t wanted to run back and fall into my safety net quite so soon but the moment seemed to be right. The razor hiding under the shelf could solve the way I was feeling right then. The razor was the only possible thing that had a chance of penetrating the grief I felt for Arabella and the angry wave of bitter sadness that was heavy inside of me.

I slowly and carefully dragged my finger over the underside of the shelf trying to locate the blade that was there. It took two attempts as my hand was shaking with the anticipation of it, but there at the far left was the familiar metal object. I carefully picked at the blue tack that held it in place and then with a slight tinkling it dropped to the bottom of the wardrobe. I eagerly scrambled around until I found the blade and had it safely in my hands. Floating over to my bed I sat down with both my legs out. I popped both my head phones in my ears before pulling up both of my trouser legs. It wasn’t where I wanted to cut but with the absence of the use of the hand in the plaster cast my arms where untameable. The legs would have to do.

The razor blade ate away at the skin on my legs causing deep wide gashes to pump blood all over the bed sheets. This, as always, felt good. I breathed in deeply and felt the elastic bands that had been constricting around my rib cage snap one by one. With each cut another restriction snapped and my body began to wake up, and the sick perverse pleasure I felt floated over me, making me smile. Over and over I slashed the blade down across my legs. My breathing rose into near hysteria as the drug I craved flowed faster and faster through my veins, every cut sent the supply higher l and the more I had the more I needed. The same feeling over and over again, magnified. The white sheet was now saturated in the deep red blood and accesses puddles gathered on the top. I plunged my hands (good and bad) into the puddles and splashed around in them like a child would with Wellington boots on after a thunder storm but still this wasn’t enough to sedate the monster within me and more I cut. However the cutting soon became too intense and it slipped out of my control as I swapped legs and started on the other one pressing deeper so the cuts would split wider and the blood pumped quicker. Soon I was scared and the good feeling went as quickly as it came as the panic now began to set in. I wanted to stop with the cutting now. My head was spinning and the rusty smell of the blood was making my stomach flip, but I couldn’t. The possession set in with the mania and now although I was crying, almost screaming in my attempt to take control I could not stop the frenzied stabs and slices. As the song on my I pod changed to something more sad and sleepy my eye lids grew heavy with the spinning room, but still I could not stop and with the little consciousness I had left I carved the words “help me” in deep to my legs before slipping under the veil of blackness.