Random

obsessed with blood

TW - BLOOD/VIOLENCE

Pressing my back against the tiles, the coldness of the ceramic shocked me. I sat, wondering how I had let it get to this. What did I do wrong? Everything.

I looked at the floor and the smeared blood. That's when I started shaking, so much that I could barely breathe as I stared at my hands which were stained red.

I wasn't crying, it's not like I had lost someone I love; it's more like I had lost a part of me along with the life I had taken. I didn't have the energy to cry.

My eyeliner was smudged and my hair messy from pulling at it. I tried to gather myself, tried to stand up and deal with the mess I had created but I couldn't. I just sat there, sinking deeper into numbness. The worst feeling in the world is realising you've lost yourself, and I was no where to be found.

Only a choked whimper escaped my lips as my voice was too hoarse from screaming that it was the only noise I could produce. The shower had turned cold, it's icy fingers wrapping themselves around my throat, stopping any chance of breathi- what did I just do?

My mind has finally processed the scene of utter horror in front of me. That's when the tears came, running down my cheeks, mixing with the water and swirling down the plughole. I found myself wrapping my arms around my knees, holding on so tightly that my knuckles turned white and my legs became stiff. I was just staring, staring blankly at nothing so that my eyes began to sting; I didn't have the concentration to close them.

My eyes drifted to the body that lay in the corner of the bathroom. The blood was now a crimson red. And it bothered me. I wanted to see the dark colour oozing out. That's why I kept burying my knife in his skin, so that the blood would surface, looking almost black and I would find myself smiling at it. It wasn't right, it wasn't normal but let's face it, neither was I.

Slowly I stood up, as if I would scare someone, scare my reflection in the mirror. She stared at me with thunder in her eyes and disappointment and disgust coursing through her veins. I should know, I felt it too. Reaching for the knife, I swiped it across his neck, making a neat, clean cut.
The blood ran out, dark and thick.

I didn't notice the harm I was doing, to myself and the people I killed. I didn't notice that this thing, this obsession would be the death of me. But then again, I didn't care.