Special Salutations

Shred

(TW: Self Harm

... I actually don't know why I'm putting a trigger ⚠️ warning considering most of my books are full of self harm and blood and pain)

I shakily reach into the drawer of the bathroom, where I keep my razor and roll up my sleeve.

  Actually should I do it in such an obvious place? Especially considering my work. 

I lower the razor and stare at my ripped jeans. Maybe it would be better to cut my legs? Or maybe...

I pull my jeans down to my ankles and stare at my pink matchstick hairy legs. The razor has a mind of its own and slashes into the skin of my thighs. The instant cut into my flesh makes me let out a cry of pain. How do people enjoy this? Still, I carry on, making more cuts. I go up to my balls, and cut there too. It starts to hurt so good, but the bloodcurdling scream that leaves my mouth is so loud, so ear-piercing, that I have to squeeze my throat hard to stop it. I bite down on my sleeve to muffle the rest of the shrieks. The whole bathroom floor is covered in droplets of blood. It's a good thing I love mopping most of all the housework.

I mop everything up and take a picture with my old Nokia phone. I'll show it to my psychologist on Tuesday. He'll be so proud of me, especially as it's still bleeding and looks badly shredded. In fact I feel quite light headed...