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The Glory of Pain

The Glory of Pain

By LittleFeak

Blood dripped down my wrists in beautiful red pearls, sliding down my arms. They left pale trails before crashing to the flood. I licked off the remaining blood. My mouth filled with the delicious metallic taste. My toung grated the cuts and I grinned. The searing sensation sent a zing through my body. Then, slowly I looked up into the mirror.

The girl that looked back at me was bony and pale.
I reached up and smeared blood onto my chapped lips. For a moment, my lips were
as red as Snow White's. Drops of blood spilled down my chin. I missed my red
lips; so I raised the knife up to them. The blade pierced through the skin
nicely, allowing me to drag it along to the other side. The deep gash stung. I
grinned, making the pain worsen, and the wound open wider.

By now, blood had poured out all over my chin. It looked like a liquid beard. I licked my lower lip. Along with the savory taste, I felt my lip burn as the saliva mixed with blood. The pain became more intense when I smiled. I felt my lip ripping with every twinge of a muscle.

A thought occurred to me: Do I look like the Joker?

This caused a real grin to cross my face. The Joker had always been one of my favorite characters. I got the feeling there was true sadness behind his crazed facade. Sadness like mine.

Memories of the fire flooded my mind. I could see
my sister's body; unconscious and covered in flames. She was the only family I
had left. Now she was...gone. A singe of pain stung at my heart. Tears stung at
my eyes but I blinked them back. Tears would do nothing to bring her back.

Why was I such a moron?!

Anger bubbled up inside my chest. I raised the knife, bringing it down on my leg with a force that frightened even me. I brought it down again and again as my punishment. It was my fault she was gone. Mine! I should have been the one to die, not her! Not Sandra!

Blood splattered everywhere. My body goes cold as I look down at my leg. I looked
torn up beyond repair. I cut myself before—almost every day after Sandra died,
so the blood did not bother me. It was the deep slash wounds that did. Never
had I done anything this extreme.

I look back at the mirror with tears of fear filling my eyes. A blood stained girl looks back at me. The knife falls from my hand, clattering to the ground. A scream erupts from my chest. I was overcome with so many emotions; sadness, fear, anger... My vision is now blurred with tears no matter how much I blink them away. I grasp the closest object and hurl it at the mirror. The glass shatters as the glass strikes it. My reflection is as broken as I feel.

Large shards of mirror lay on the floor in my pool of blood. I stomp on each bit with my bare heel. The glass cuts open my skin. My foot has never been cut open before, so it burned and stung all at once. This pain was new. I stumble backwards, away from the glass and into a puddle of whisky I spilled earlier that day. A horrifying shriek filled the air as the whisky mixed with blood. I looked around frantically, trying to spot who had broken my beloved silence; only to find it was me.

My whole body trembled. I tried silencing my sobs with my hand clamping my mouth shut. After a moment I felt calmer—enough to lift my foot up to examine it. The moment I did I regretted it. All air left my lungs. I slip into a crumpled mess on the floor. Still bleeding from multiple wounds, I lay there. I couldn't feel anything. No speck of happiness was left inside of me. Sandra was gone. Soon I would be too. My eyelids drift shut. My world goes black.

Author Notes: This was not just written by me, but my friend Sil. More to come, so stay tuned.
Also, I am so sorry about any grammatical errors, spelling mistakes, or other mistakes you might find. Otherwise, enjoy :)

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About The Author
About This Story
11 Feb, 2014
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3 mins
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