Title: Bloody Kisses

Rating: R

Warning: masochism, and blood is all.

Author’s Note: I wrote this during science so sorry if it’s a little iffy.

I hope that one day, someday, my lips won’t chap so much and someone will want to kiss me. My lips are tender and pout-y, but not good pouty. Bad pouty: always sad and moody. Sometimes I smile but it’s never real, it never shows up in my slate gray eyes. They’re always like ice, or so the whispers about me say. I looked at the forlorn hope in my eyes, calmly staring back from inside the bathroom mirror. It was lunch, everybody was either in the cafeteria or walking around campus. I chewed my nails in trepidation before I started to pick at the chapped skin marring my lips. Revealed the pink, beautiful, model worthy lips. It hurt and tears ran down my cheeks. When I was satisfied, I licked them. Licked the blood off and made them burn. Such an odd temptation arousing sick thoughts in my mind. I sat down away from the mirrors. I didn’t want to see myself, not like this. I had before, after I slit my wrists, and I hadn’t liked what I had seen: Me, tears streaming, like rivers upon my pale face, sad lips, and stupid gray eyes staring back so nonchalantly. I licked my lips again. The door creaked open slowly and a head appeared. He just stared at me clutching my knees, hoping the world would fall away. He came in, hands fisted in his varsity letterman jacket, a smile tainting his lips and a glimmer of laughter in his eyes. I hated him. Hated him because he could get up and walk away from it all. He kneeled down before me and leaned forward. His smooth lips touched mine as his tongue begged for entrance. One tentative kiss became more, until he bit down, hard, on my lip. I moaned like the sick masochist I was,- no, am. He pulled back and kissed my cheek. My head hit the brick wall behind me as he walked away. Leaving me and my bloody kisses to wallow in my torrent of my own sick life.