all the little peices falling
Here's a story of mine that I wrote.. it's kind of old, but yeah I wrote it and i'd apperciate some feedback, so thank you.
Tears of Blood
The sharp lustrous edge slid smoothly into her pale skin. She watched absent-mindedly as a steady dribble of cherry red blood crawled slowly down the side of her foot. As she pushed the blade in deeper, the stream of blood quickly intensified. The surge of anguish caused her to cringe. After thirty seconds she reluctantly pulled the bloody razor out of her foot. Throughout the past year of Amber’s young life all she could think about was the scars and how to hide them. They were getting bigger because the cuts were getting deeper. Tiny, little slits on the insides of her arms no longer satisfied her. She became so paralyzed throughout her sessions that small cuts no longer gave her enough pain, or blood.
Inside her dimly lit room she sat numbly listening to the soft sounds coming from her radio. Blood trickled down the side of her foot and onto a pile of tissue just below her. With each new drop, the circle of blood grew proving that she was serious. There were now six cuts on the inside of Amber’s foot, only millimeters apart. Her blood-stained fingers reached for the once shiny and silver razor which was now covered in dark blood. She contemplated her next move. Was she going to make a seventh cut, or was she going to rip through the skin that remained between her six previous cuts. This had given her more blood and pain in the past, but the scars were massive and impossible to conceal. After a few minutes the bloody blade broke through her skin slowly and a new thin red line quickly appeared. A wave of relief gushed through her body and escaped through her disfigured foot. Amber laid back, closed her eyes and enjoyed the feeling of complete utopia. All the while knowing this sensation would be over in a matter of seconds. She would have trouble walking tomorrow, but Amber never thought that far ahead.
As she gazed down at her mutilated limb, she was revolted, repulsed and ashamed that she could do such a thing. Then as she continued to stare another feeling surfaced. Pride. She finally found something she could do right. She swiped the area where the blood was now drying and watched as fresh blood drizzled from her open wounds. A renewed sense of relief consumed her. She had been cutting for so long now that she had lost sight of reality. She no longer controlled the blade, the blade controlled her.
"Amber..." shrilled a voice hidden by the walls. Her heart thudded and it pounded against her ribs. Her green eyes darted to the door as the fast paced footsteps approached. She sat paralyzed as the doorknob twisted halfway and then went back to its original state. "Open this door right now Amber, I knew I shouldn't have let you get a lock!"
"Just a second Mom!" Amber yelled as she pushed her bloody utensils under her bed. She staggered into her black slippers as she approached the door. With her first step her body escaped it’s anaesthetized state and a burst of pain shot up from her foot and into her body. She gasped but immediately bit her lip to conceal her anguish as she opened the door.
"What took you so long?" Replied her mother.
"I was just getting ready for bed, relax Mom."
"Don't tell me what to do Amber, I'm not in the mood," barked her mother.
"Sorry," snapped Amber.
"Sorry, what?" Her mother shot back.
"Sorry Mom," Amber replied hesitantly. Her tired shoulders dropped and her eyes stared despondently at the floor.
"That’s better. Now what did you do with that leftover chicken that I had in the fridge?"
"There was only a little bit left, so I threw it out." She stared bewildered.
"Geez Amber, I was going to take that to work tomorrow. Can you imagine how smoothly things would run around here if for once you used your head?" Amber started absently at her mother. Her cold, hard eyes drove into Amber and threatened to claw her open from the inside out.
"I'm sorry Mom," replied Amber miserably. She knew her mother could sense her discomfort, and she knew she was enjoying it. Amber had learned when she was very young that it would hurt more if she made eye contact with her mother. This was because whenever she did make the tragic mistake, she could never see love behind the rage, hate and disappointment.
"You’re always sorry. I'm going to bed now, don't stay up too late. Goodnight." Amber watched grudgingly as her mother continued down the hall to her bedroom. Before this disturbance, Amber was almost ready to finish up her session. Now all the cuts and all the blood seemed insignificant. She needed to start over. She closed her door, locked it, and pulled her strength out from under the bed. She reached awkwardly for her blade, rolled up her sleeve and braced herself for what was to come. Just as the metal edge touched her delicate skin, she stopped. Even though she desperately wanted to ease the sting she felt inside, she knew she had already cut enough for one night. It was only Monday, so she needed to save her arms for the rest of the week.
The week dragged on sluggishly and was considerably mundane. Eventually, Friday emerged and Amber was in a particularly good spirit. Her best friend, Cassie, would be arriving at any moment. As she brushed her long dark hair, the ring of the doorbell echoed through the house. Amber dashed down the stairs, nearly cascading into a big heap on the floor, to greet her friend at the door.
"Hey! You’re late," said Amber as she opened the door. "I almost wiped out when I ran down the stairs."
"Smooth! Yeah I know I'm late," replied Cassie. "I went to pick up some chick flicks! I've got ‘Boys on the Side’, ‘Thelma and Louise’ and ‘When Harry met Sally’".
The majority of the evening consisted of food, movies, gossip and laughter. This had been exactly what Amber was craving for. She knew that if Cassie was not beside her watching "When Harry met Sally," then she would be upstairs in the dark hole of desperation with her next best friend. Cassie had no idea about Amber’s destructive secret. Amber could be haughty and icy at times, but that was just the way she was.
"Did you hear about Kate and Chris?" Questioned Cassie excitedly.
"What’s going on with them now? Are they back together, again?" Inquired Amber apathetically.
"They were, but I got a call from Kate today and apparently she caught him cheating on her again." Cassie could not help but giggle childishly as she passed the latest news onto Amber.
"Big surprise! When is that girl gonna learn that Chris is never going to change? But still, they'll be back together in a week." Amber stated knowingly. She had been sitting uncomfortably on her foot and her right leg was now falling asleep. She shifted her legs and placed her feet comfortably on the table in front of her revealing the now healed laceration on the inside of her foot.
"Wow, where'd you get that scar?" Asked Cassie as she examined the scar on Amber’s foot. Her tiny nose wrinkled, and her mouth opened slightly in disgust.
"Oh, when I was five I was at this playground and as I ran by the play structure the inside of my foot scraped against a nail that was sticking out." She replied.
"Ouch!" Gasped Cassie remorsefully.
"Yeah, that would describe it pretty good!" Amber chuckled. Her heart raced. She hated lying to her best friend but she had no other choice. As much as she wanted to tell the truth, she could not find the words or the courage. The first time she cut herself she was 14, that was two years ago. As she looked back on her warped nostalgia, she could not help but laugh at her pathetic attempt at mutilation. The razor had drawn practically no blood, but that had been enough at that time. As time passed, inconsequential scratches that vanished in two days no longer soothed the torment. The first time she had cut it was pure instinct. She had been so numb that night that any sense of rationality escaped her. The first slice was enough to make her addicted. Nothing else could take away the anguish that tore at her heart as if slowly ripping it into millions of tiny, insignificant pieces. The relief that she felt afterwards was worth the scars. The pain from the razors had never been a factor, they did not compare to what she was feeling inside.
"I love this movie," exclaimed Cassie. "Except, the clothes are driving me crazy!"
"Yeah, I know what you mean." Amber responded. "Anyway, I can't believe it’s two o’clock in the morning. I'm gonna go to sleep now, what about you?"
"Sounds good," Cassie replied. Both girls drifted easily into their own unique and fantastical worlds. Amber’s dream world was a scary place and tonight was to be no exception.She could see herself sitting on her bed cutting herself several times on the shoulder. Unfortunately, the physical pain did not match her mental pain, it was not even close. She pushed the blade deeper into her forearm. She cringed as the increase in blood flow rapidly intensified. The blood from her shoulder and forearm streamed down her arm creating a dark puddle on the bedroom floor, staining the white carpet. A wicked smirk surfaced on her face as she realized how angry her mother would be. However, once again the physical pain did not sustain her. With all her force, she thrust the blade across her trembling wrist creating a deep gouge that scraped the bone. She screamed as the searing pain dominated her thoughts. The blood now gushed from her wrist. Amber, now finally realizing the consequences of what she had done, started to cry. Not because of the pain, the pain was now irrelevant, but because she realized she was going to die. The blood loss was now massive and she could feel herself becoming lightheaded. She did not want to die. She crawled to her bed and forced herself under her covers as her life spilled from her arms. She was no longer screaming now, but the tears were still rolling down her face. She closed her eyes and she knew that she was about to faint, and she knew that she would never wake up. As she drifted off slowly into death, she could clearly hear the screeching of her mother’s voice telling her to quiet down. It was this screeching that saved Amber from her deep sleep.
Amber gasped feverishly as she awoke from her dismal nightmare. They were getting more difficult to deal with. With each new dream the vividness amplified and the severities of her actions were escalating. She panted hard as her eyes bolted from one end of the room to another, unaware of what they were searching for. She covered her face and allowed herself to calm down. She could feel the familiar tears on her cheeks. It was not peculiar for her to cry in her sleep. She slowly and guardedly crept to the bathroom. She glared despairingly at the image she saw staring back at her in the mirror. "You deserve this." She said allowed. She calmly opened the drawer and effortlessly found what she was starving for . Tears formed and slid down her already tear-stained face. Her only comfort was that of a small, sharp object. This was the only way for her. Her fingers moved steadily towards her skin and a narrow streak of ruby red blood glided down her left arm.
Tears of Blood
The sharp lustrous edge slid smoothly into her pale skin. She watched absent-mindedly as a steady dribble of cherry red blood crawled slowly down the side of her foot. As she pushed the blade in deeper, the stream of blood quickly intensified. The surge of anguish caused her to cringe. After thirty seconds she reluctantly pulled the bloody razor out of her foot. Throughout the past year of Amber’s young life all she could think about was the scars and how to hide them. They were getting bigger because the cuts were getting deeper. Tiny, little slits on the insides of her arms no longer satisfied her. She became so paralyzed throughout her sessions that small cuts no longer gave her enough pain, or blood.
Inside her dimly lit room she sat numbly listening to the soft sounds coming from her radio. Blood trickled down the side of her foot and onto a pile of tissue just below her. With each new drop, the circle of blood grew proving that she was serious. There were now six cuts on the inside of Amber’s foot, only millimeters apart. Her blood-stained fingers reached for the once shiny and silver razor which was now covered in dark blood. She contemplated her next move. Was she going to make a seventh cut, or was she going to rip through the skin that remained between her six previous cuts. This had given her more blood and pain in the past, but the scars were massive and impossible to conceal. After a few minutes the bloody blade broke through her skin slowly and a new thin red line quickly appeared. A wave of relief gushed through her body and escaped through her disfigured foot. Amber laid back, closed her eyes and enjoyed the feeling of complete utopia. All the while knowing this sensation would be over in a matter of seconds. She would have trouble walking tomorrow, but Amber never thought that far ahead.
As she gazed down at her mutilated limb, she was revolted, repulsed and ashamed that she could do such a thing. Then as she continued to stare another feeling surfaced. Pride. She finally found something she could do right. She swiped the area where the blood was now drying and watched as fresh blood drizzled from her open wounds. A renewed sense of relief consumed her. She had been cutting for so long now that she had lost sight of reality. She no longer controlled the blade, the blade controlled her.
"Amber..." shrilled a voice hidden by the walls. Her heart thudded and it pounded against her ribs. Her green eyes darted to the door as the fast paced footsteps approached. She sat paralyzed as the doorknob twisted halfway and then went back to its original state. "Open this door right now Amber, I knew I shouldn't have let you get a lock!"
"Just a second Mom!" Amber yelled as she pushed her bloody utensils under her bed. She staggered into her black slippers as she approached the door. With her first step her body escaped it’s anaesthetized state and a burst of pain shot up from her foot and into her body. She gasped but immediately bit her lip to conceal her anguish as she opened the door.
"What took you so long?" Replied her mother.
"I was just getting ready for bed, relax Mom."
"Don't tell me what to do Amber, I'm not in the mood," barked her mother.
"Sorry," snapped Amber.
"Sorry, what?" Her mother shot back.
"Sorry Mom," Amber replied hesitantly. Her tired shoulders dropped and her eyes stared despondently at the floor.
"That’s better. Now what did you do with that leftover chicken that I had in the fridge?"
"There was only a little bit left, so I threw it out." She stared bewildered.
"Geez Amber, I was going to take that to work tomorrow. Can you imagine how smoothly things would run around here if for once you used your head?" Amber started absently at her mother. Her cold, hard eyes drove into Amber and threatened to claw her open from the inside out.
"I'm sorry Mom," replied Amber miserably. She knew her mother could sense her discomfort, and she knew she was enjoying it. Amber had learned when she was very young that it would hurt more if she made eye contact with her mother. This was because whenever she did make the tragic mistake, she could never see love behind the rage, hate and disappointment.
"You’re always sorry. I'm going to bed now, don't stay up too late. Goodnight." Amber watched grudgingly as her mother continued down the hall to her bedroom. Before this disturbance, Amber was almost ready to finish up her session. Now all the cuts and all the blood seemed insignificant. She needed to start over. She closed her door, locked it, and pulled her strength out from under the bed. She reached awkwardly for her blade, rolled up her sleeve and braced herself for what was to come. Just as the metal edge touched her delicate skin, she stopped. Even though she desperately wanted to ease the sting she felt inside, she knew she had already cut enough for one night. It was only Monday, so she needed to save her arms for the rest of the week.
The week dragged on sluggishly and was considerably mundane. Eventually, Friday emerged and Amber was in a particularly good spirit. Her best friend, Cassie, would be arriving at any moment. As she brushed her long dark hair, the ring of the doorbell echoed through the house. Amber dashed down the stairs, nearly cascading into a big heap on the floor, to greet her friend at the door.
"Hey! You’re late," said Amber as she opened the door. "I almost wiped out when I ran down the stairs."
"Smooth! Yeah I know I'm late," replied Cassie. "I went to pick up some chick flicks! I've got ‘Boys on the Side’, ‘Thelma and Louise’ and ‘When Harry met Sally’".
The majority of the evening consisted of food, movies, gossip and laughter. This had been exactly what Amber was craving for. She knew that if Cassie was not beside her watching "When Harry met Sally," then she would be upstairs in the dark hole of desperation with her next best friend. Cassie had no idea about Amber’s destructive secret. Amber could be haughty and icy at times, but that was just the way she was.
"Did you hear about Kate and Chris?" Questioned Cassie excitedly.
"What’s going on with them now? Are they back together, again?" Inquired Amber apathetically.
"They were, but I got a call from Kate today and apparently she caught him cheating on her again." Cassie could not help but giggle childishly as she passed the latest news onto Amber.
"Big surprise! When is that girl gonna learn that Chris is never going to change? But still, they'll be back together in a week." Amber stated knowingly. She had been sitting uncomfortably on her foot and her right leg was now falling asleep. She shifted her legs and placed her feet comfortably on the table in front of her revealing the now healed laceration on the inside of her foot.
"Wow, where'd you get that scar?" Asked Cassie as she examined the scar on Amber’s foot. Her tiny nose wrinkled, and her mouth opened slightly in disgust.
"Oh, when I was five I was at this playground and as I ran by the play structure the inside of my foot scraped against a nail that was sticking out." She replied.
"Ouch!" Gasped Cassie remorsefully.
"Yeah, that would describe it pretty good!" Amber chuckled. Her heart raced. She hated lying to her best friend but she had no other choice. As much as she wanted to tell the truth, she could not find the words or the courage. The first time she cut herself she was 14, that was two years ago. As she looked back on her warped nostalgia, she could not help but laugh at her pathetic attempt at mutilation. The razor had drawn practically no blood, but that had been enough at that time. As time passed, inconsequential scratches that vanished in two days no longer soothed the torment. The first time she had cut it was pure instinct. She had been so numb that night that any sense of rationality escaped her. The first slice was enough to make her addicted. Nothing else could take away the anguish that tore at her heart as if slowly ripping it into millions of tiny, insignificant pieces. The relief that she felt afterwards was worth the scars. The pain from the razors had never been a factor, they did not compare to what she was feeling inside.
"I love this movie," exclaimed Cassie. "Except, the clothes are driving me crazy!"
"Yeah, I know what you mean." Amber responded. "Anyway, I can't believe it’s two o’clock in the morning. I'm gonna go to sleep now, what about you?"
"Sounds good," Cassie replied. Both girls drifted easily into their own unique and fantastical worlds. Amber’s dream world was a scary place and tonight was to be no exception.She could see herself sitting on her bed cutting herself several times on the shoulder. Unfortunately, the physical pain did not match her mental pain, it was not even close. She pushed the blade deeper into her forearm. She cringed as the increase in blood flow rapidly intensified. The blood from her shoulder and forearm streamed down her arm creating a dark puddle on the bedroom floor, staining the white carpet. A wicked smirk surfaced on her face as she realized how angry her mother would be. However, once again the physical pain did not sustain her. With all her force, she thrust the blade across her trembling wrist creating a deep gouge that scraped the bone. She screamed as the searing pain dominated her thoughts. The blood now gushed from her wrist. Amber, now finally realizing the consequences of what she had done, started to cry. Not because of the pain, the pain was now irrelevant, but because she realized she was going to die. The blood loss was now massive and she could feel herself becoming lightheaded. She did not want to die. She crawled to her bed and forced herself under her covers as her life spilled from her arms. She was no longer screaming now, but the tears were still rolling down her face. She closed her eyes and she knew that she was about to faint, and she knew that she would never wake up. As she drifted off slowly into death, she could clearly hear the screeching of her mother’s voice telling her to quiet down. It was this screeching that saved Amber from her deep sleep.
Amber gasped feverishly as she awoke from her dismal nightmare. They were getting more difficult to deal with. With each new dream the vividness amplified and the severities of her actions were escalating. She panted hard as her eyes bolted from one end of the room to another, unaware of what they were searching for. She covered her face and allowed herself to calm down. She could feel the familiar tears on her cheeks. It was not peculiar for her to cry in her sleep. She slowly and guardedly crept to the bathroom. She glared despairingly at the image she saw staring back at her in the mirror. "You deserve this." She said allowed. She calmly opened the drawer and effortlessly found what she was starving for . Tears formed and slid down her already tear-stained face. Her only comfort was that of a small, sharp object. This was the only way for her. Her fingers moved steadily towards her skin and a narrow streak of ruby red blood glided down her left arm.