The Cut.

I tried to do it- honestly I did. But I can’t face the crimson silk running down my wrist, down my elbows and dripping one drop at a time down to the reddish brown wooden floor. I sneaked the knife from the downstairs kitchen drawer; cautiously arranging the forks, knifes and spoons. I arranged it like a toddler learning the alphabet, 123, word by word, and number to number.

I saw it was my best option. A sharp rigged- almost seamless like- knife; the double role of me shown on the reflected steel sliver ware.

Foot by foot, hand on rail, I slid to the bathroom door. Placing my ear against the cool white wash bathroom tile, I hear my mother whimpering, then back to her silent sleep. I smiled; knowing she was in a deep slumber. This was my best chance- and my only chance.

I ran the lukewarm water, and sat at the edge of the bathtub, placing my feet carefully into it. All in one swift, my knees stood upright, and I stripped down to the very last sediment of my clothes. I didn’t exist- for I was bare and naked. I became non-existent. Letting my revealed body of scars, I let the body flow through the gentle water; with the knife laid in my right palm. I twirled it excitedly, the image of its aftermath running in my head- running with the water flow.

The silk of my blood, cell by cell, pumping out through the slitted gap- and with each pump, my grin grew wider knowing that it has worked. I would let it stream out, let it drop onto the steaming clear surface. The iris of my pupils would slowly close in, letting the lids droop down; till a pitch black image would form. Times would past by- and I would have bathe in my own crimson silky blood.

But I shook the knife violently in my tight fisted hand, tears welled up below the pit of of my slumbering vision. Everything around me blurred; my desperate vision uncleared. The knife dropped from my shaking hand and I stood up, away from the freezing, shivering fluid. Slowly, I stepped out of the tub, letting myself pant over the clear crystallized water- it wasn’t red, it was still transparent. I heaved on my clothes, for I feared what would come next. I feared for my existent- for I wasn’t bare anymore.

By Zona Heera. 22 July 2010.

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