329 words - teen horror
He runs the dull edge of the blade along your skin.
You shiver and push him away. You hadn’t realized he had a knife.
“Why won’t you let me near you?" he asks. "I won’t hurt you.”
He wipes the flat side of the blade on your arm.
“See? It's safe. I won’t let it cut you. I’ll get rid of it. I’ll protect you.”
So you let him come closer.
The blade nicks your skin and you wince.
He tells you that everyone get huts, just a little. That's how it is.
Then he wraps you up tight and you lean your cheek into his chest.
You don’t have to be afraid. He’ll keep you safe.
When he traces the sharp edge of the knife over your skin, little red lines criss-cross your arms.
He kisses the cuts to erase the pain.
When his blade sinks deeper, you gasp.
He turns your face towards him and tells you it wouldn’t hurt if you would hold still.
So you lean against him and close your eyes.
You try to listen to his heart beat.
You know he loves you and would never hurt if he didn't have to.
Then you're on the floor, soaking in your blood.
You have to grit your teeth to keep from crying.
Your arms shake as you try to push him away.
He leans over you with the knife. Wet drips off it onto your cheek.
“Why did you make me do this to you?” He frowns, his eyes wet and dripping like the knife.
“How could you?" he asks. "Why did you fight me?
If you would only let me hold you, you wouldn’t have hurt yourself like this.”
He could drop the knife. But you don’t think of that.
You start to cry. “It hurts.”
“Shhh.” He bends down. “I can make it better. Don’t worry. I can still save you.”
So you let him slide the knife between your ribs.
He runs the dull edge of the blade along your skin.
You shiver and push him away. You hadn’t realized he had a knife.
“Why won’t you let me near you?" he asks. "I won’t hurt you.”
He wipes the flat side of the blade on your arm.
“See? It's safe. I won’t let it cut you. I’ll get rid of it. I’ll protect you.”
So you let him come closer.
The blade nicks your skin and you wince.
He tells you that everyone get huts, just a little. That's how it is.
Then he wraps you up tight and you lean your cheek into his chest.
You don’t have to be afraid. He’ll keep you safe.
When he traces the sharp edge of the knife over your skin, little red lines criss-cross your arms.
He kisses the cuts to erase the pain.
When his blade sinks deeper, you gasp.
He turns your face towards him and tells you it wouldn’t hurt if you would hold still.
So you lean against him and close your eyes.
You try to listen to his heart beat.
You know he loves you and would never hurt if he didn't have to.
Then you're on the floor, soaking in your blood.
You have to grit your teeth to keep from crying.
Your arms shake as you try to push him away.
He leans over you with the knife. Wet drips off it onto your cheek.
“Why did you make me do this to you?” He frowns, his eyes wet and dripping like the knife.
“How could you?" he asks. "Why did you fight me?
If you would only let me hold you, you wouldn’t have hurt yourself like this.”
He could drop the knife. But you don’t think of that.
You start to cry. “It hurts.”
“Shhh.” He bends down. “I can make it better. Don’t worry. I can still save you.”
So you let him slide the knife between your ribs.
(photo courtesy of Mattias)
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