Honestly, I posted this in FF and I guess you could say I'm attention whoring. The reason why is because I want to know if my mind's just sick and twisted. Like seriously twisted, serial killer level twisted. ... Okay, too far, but still. Twisted. ----- The blood seeping into the tub of overflowing water... The familiar coppery taste of it lingering on the top of the tongue, as you stress to say a word, but to no avail. Your wrists are like a canvas, and the pair of scissors held tightly in your other hand is a brush. Roughly, almost uncontrollably, you bring it down, stabbing yourself with it. Pain. You know it. The faucet's running, the water filling the brim. Your own blood is mixing with the transparent liquid, crimson seeking for the drain. The curtains are closed, even the shower head's running. The pitter patter of raindrops is nostalgic, isn't it? Walking alone, in that ridiculous yellow rubber outfit... Your peers, mocking you. Don't you hate it? Those eyes, burning through the material, the smoke almost suffocating you, choking you, burning your lungs. You so desperately want out. But you actually want in. You said you'd make them pay. The droplets of watter softly hitting the material of your hat, the exact yellow hat. Your eyes are closed. Oh, trying to recapture that oh so taunting moment, as they insult you, hurt you, kill you inside. The raincoat's buttoned up, like a nice bulletproof vest. Oh, those sharp words aiming for your heart like daggers. Aren't you intimidated? Afraid? No. You like it. You're even wearing those boots of yours. Remember? Reminisce with me! Walking to school during those rainy days, when your mother refused to let you stay home when you had a cold? Your hair was wet, you were soaked. The color was drained from your face. The optimism, the life. You were so used to being picked on, were you? Oh, the taunts, so tempting. You were going to slip... You were going to fall of the edge... Don't you smell that? It's a familiar scent, isn't it? Burning rubber. Don't you remember? Burning? the fire, the flames, the raging inferno swalloing you up. You were in the hospital for days. Only your pitiful friend bothered to send you get well cards. Where is she now, hm? In the alleyway, selling drugs. Aren't you used to the high? The intoxication? And you were the hypocrite. Commited to stop it, when you secretly hid a stash of painkillers under your bed, believing nobody knew. You so desperately wanted nobody to know... nobody. Just like how you wanted nobody to know about your little habit. Frown, yes, frown. I'm reading you so easily... Aren't you scared? That deadbeat mother of yours barging in to find her little daughter in the bathtub, killing herself? You could just tie a noose and be done with it. Your dad's dental floss is near the sink, and the shower head's attached to the ceiling. Temptation, temptation. You were always the smart one. Resisting. But don't you know that sad, pathetic and cold façade will break? You'll shrivel up... You'll snap, everybody does. Like an elastic band. Oh, how you hate it when I get inside your head... But toying with rubber too much will eventually snap it. You're not ready to die, coward. That's what you are. A coward. The easy way out. You never bothered to confront your father about it. Where is he, anyway? Sleeping with another bunch of women? Wasting your college money on whores selling themselves on the street willingly? Oh, don't tell me, it's poker night and he's gambling it away with his buddies! And your mom? She's hooked. What is it this time? Weed? Heroin? Fix? Crack? Maybe she's hitting it up with the bartender... Vodka and a chaser, most likely. You? Aren't you having your sweet time in a bathroom? Take a look around, sweetie. The empty tiles, the peeling paint, the shattered mirror and the cracked walls. Even the leaking pipe is pouring water on your kneecap. It's your corner of insanity, isn't it? A secret, false, make believe sanctuary... Where your only companion is the razor and I. Where the only thing you'll need... Is the sacrifice of blood. ---- Behold. This is what I write when somebody pisses me off. Surprisingly, this isn't even dark enough for me.
Baaaa, we're all sheep in a non existent fantasy land. Damnit Cookie, I doubt you've even read a single paragraph.
Well actually, I see a good detailed novelist. Some people would say "I like to cut myself" this is beautiful in a dark way. ._. well I'm twisted in my own way so yea...
Qin<3 Will it piss you off if I say one of your earlier works inspired me to become this creepy old witch?
Damnit Cookie, I TOLD YOU TO CUT BACK ON THE ALCOHOL. Oh wait, screw that, you should take a few more shots. .-. Just kidding... But don't get hurt. .-.
._. I'm not sure you're ready for that responsibility. It's a dark and twisted road where your only companions are the wolves and the wind. •_• blue is a color.
Qinny, I forgot. D: Wait... It had something to do with hybrids or mutants... And something you said on one of my earlier works about my stories being grotesque.