Blood drips from my wrist, coating the sink more with every drop. My breathing is heavy and tears stain my cheeks. Why me? Why is it always me? I think, choking back a sob. Why can't they find someone else?
My vision begins to dim and I feel a wave of nausia pass over me as I throw up in the sink. I tie back my hair, hoping it will cool me down.
A small whimper escapes my lips as I pick up the blade and make another cut. More blood drips into the sink.
Someone begins to pound on the door, calling my name and begging me to open it. I pay no mind and make another cut. They don't care. Why are they even trying?
I hear the nob turn as the door bursts open. My brother runs to me as I fall to the floor. He kneels by my side and begins to cry. I feel his tears drip on my face as he begins screaming for help.
I feel him pick me up and move me to the cold tiles of the bathroom shower. He turns the nob and begs me to stay awake, but when the cold water hits me, my vision goes black.
YOU ARE READING
Hope is just another word for pain
Short StoryDoes anyone really care? Is there a point to life? Or is it just a world of lost dreams? What is the true meaning of happiness? Or is there such a thing? This is a book of short stories that I've written for rainy days or when the sun is hidden in t...
