Gravitation Fan Fiction ❯ Bladed Edge ❯ Bladed Edge ( Chapter 1 )

Bladed Edge

I want to die.

I want to watch my blood spill over my flesh and stain the bed beneath me. I want to feel the cut of the blade as it slices into my flesh, and I want the pain to sear across my nerves as I slide it around my wrists.

I want to claw my eyes out, so I can stop seeing the world. I want to live in darkness with the blood staining my face, warm, wet and sticky.

I want to stop the ever beating of my heart, I want to sink back down into the abyss, and float away forever. The bile chokes at my throat, clogging and thick. My breathing trembles with each moment I try to bring in air.

The light shines off the polished edge as I slide the cold metal from it’s plastic holder.

I want this to end.

I brush my finger over the dull, wrapped edge before gripping it tightly, placing it against my flesh.

I want it to stop.

I let it simply rest there on my arm, staring down at the vision below me. Piece in a one inch line.

I want it to go away.

A little bit of pressure and my skin dips in, creasing in a line, bowing to the blade.

I want it to disappear.

The flesh gives way as the corner pierces the pale skin beneath it, rich, red blood welling up behind as the blade slides further and further along.

I want it to fade.

I watch hungrily, tounge wetting my dry lips as the blade stops in it’s path. It turns, deepening the edge of the wound before following back along the red, clotting line.

I want it to cease.

It sinks deeper and deeper with each rotation, until my hand trembles, grip loosening, unable to retain control.

I want freedom.

It slides away from me, slick, moist with spent sanguine fluid, forcing me to grab a cloth to pick the piece up again.

I want deliverance.

I place the corner against the already crimson flesh and draw a new like across un-marred skin.

I want liberation.

A new well, a new high. The rush takes hold as I fall back into a soft, comforting embrace.

I want salvation.

Wet warmth this my skin and I move myself into the sensation, hissing as it washes over the wounds.

I want redemption.

I close my eyes, giving way to the darkness creeping in. I turn towards it. Embrace it. Cherish it.

I want atonement.

I let it take me a way from a world of sin and pain. Of ache and terror. I let it encircle me, and wash me clean.

I am whole.

And the grief is gone.