Grass
Patty Smith always had issues containing her anger. She would throw objects and hit people. She even stabbed her mother once for not doing what she wanted. So when Patty Smith's mother told her to get out she didn't know what to do.
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My eyes scanned the hall, no one in sight. I pulled my door closed and locked it. My tool was in my hand as I was ready to begin.
"Patty Smith!" my angry mother called from the kitchen. I sighed and hid my tools. Skipping out the door and climbed down the stairs and went into the kitchen.
"Yes mother?" I asked sweetly hoping this could be done and over with soon. My mother's face looked pointedly at me.
"You are 21 years old, when are you going to grow up and get a job?" she said annoyed. My eye twitched. How dare she say that to me? I'm her child! It's her job to care for me. Rolling my eyes I turned and walked to the opposite direction.
"That's it!" mother screamed. "You need to leave!"
My fists tightened.
"Fine!" angry I stormed off into my room. On my bed laid two beauties. Both were meant to be ripped apart and cut but only one would be hurt today. I picked the fragile figure up and placed it on my table. Careful not to be too rough. I rummaged through my draw to find the tool I put away earlier. The cool metal gave me goose bumps as I drug the sharp edge of the scalpel against my finger. Blood bubbled out and I placed the wound against my tongue savoring the taste.
The object sat there just waiting to be cut. My scalpel slowly sliced deep within until it reached the other side. As I drag the sharp edge down the center the object splits in two. Suddenly a pain stabbed me in my palm. Looking down I noticed a piece of the object stuck in my hand.
"Fucking grass."
