She ran up the stairs and into her room, slamming the door behind her. She threw her bag and her purse away, into the corner, and rushed to her desk. Now where was it? She searched franticly, scattering papers, pencils and other useless school supplies across her room.
There! Her pocket knife, given to her by her father. The only thing he'd ever given her that'd been worth anything. She snapped one of the blades out and drew it sharply across the inside of her forearm. Not her usual careful cut, but a long, desperate line.
She watched as the blood ran down her arm, over her palm and fingers and dropped to the desk, puddling in a little pool. Blood, welling out of her skin, and taking the pain with it. A hole in her flesh to let the pain out....

recent...
2001-04-21 - Different kinds of pain.
2001-04-21 - A different path for you.
2001-04-20 - I'm an evil bastard.
2001-04-20 - Elementary thoughts.
2001-04-20 - Dragon dreams.