cut

My thoughts rage and my ears pound. My world is on fire. I burn with anger as my heart twists violently, threatening to rip. Images blur as I struggle to focus. I clutch the railing and race, almost stumbling, up the stairs. I'm elated with anticipation, despite the salty tears spilling down my cheeks. I jerk the drawer open and feel around for the hard plastic handle. My fingers find and clasp it as I sink to the ground. I close my eyes and clench my teeth. The cold metal bites. A pink line appears. Again. Feel it slice. Blood seeps through. I watch the crimson trail across my flesh. I start another. Push the tip in. Push it deeper. Feel the sting. The demons fly out. I want to scream in release, but I clamp my jaw closed. I keep carving lines. I keep carving them down, down into my skin. I take deep breaths and tilt back my head, resting against my bed frame. I look back down and trace the cuts with my eyes. They'll make pretty purple scars. They're a part of me. Vents for the maddness that could so easily prove fatal. I breathe a sigh of release. It didn't take me this time. It didn't swallow me whole. I escaped. For this moment. I've bought myself a little more time before they come hunt me down again.