That one thing was a box. I located it underneath the sink, and opened it without making a sound. I pulled out the key to my happiness, a razor blade. Slowly dragging along my thigh, I felt immediate pain, but underneath the pain, release. Release of anxiety and sadness and fear. I stopped once the blood had reached a fist sized puddle on the floor. I cleaned the blade and my leg, put a bandage around the cut, and mopped up the puddle on the floor. Once there was no evidence that I had been there, I went back to
Sorry for the cut off, but that was 100 words...
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The End
General FictionSomething has happened to Claire, something in her clouded past. She doesn't know what, but she still dreams about it. (Mild gore, attempted suicide, and self harm.)
