I don't know why I'm posting this let alone wrote it. I kept getting this 'feeling', I guess, in my head to do this to do myself. I still do, but don't worry it won't lead to anything. Maybe...

So Much for That

I fell onto my back and gasped a ragged breath. I could feel the sheets under me were a tangle and were soaked in my sweat. There was a warmth spreading between my legs and I could feel myself getting wet. I looked up at the ceiling for a moment before I could control my breathing more. I looked down at myself and saw that my body was glistening with my sweat and that my inner thighs were red with the blood rushing to my womanly parts.

'Come on, you're so close. Do it. Do it, now.'

I had become accustomed to the voices in my head that have been with me since my dad started having 'special' nights with me, which was about five years ago. There were several voices, but Becka was the most prominent and was always telling me to do something dangerous and I had always told her to leave me alone, until now.

A week ago she started to tell me to do this, but as always I ignored her. But she kept persisting and persisting until it was driving me crazy. Finally I relented, and she told me to do it the one day no one would be home. My dad would stay at work to have a 'meeting' with his secretary. My oblivious mother would be helping at the local food pantry and my brother Jeremy would still be at football practice.

The other voices gave slight urges in that direction, even though they usually had different ideas. John usually suggested something subtle like drinking bleach or other household cleaners. Julie was a bit more daring telling me to jump off Hangman's Bluff, a 300-foot sheer drop onto a shoal with dark ragged rocks.

'Come on. Do it now, Shelbie. DO IT NOW!!'

Becka was getting angry, but of course she was always angry so I took my time as I reached over next to me and grabbed the knife. I slowly pulled out the knife and admired it a moment. It was a big knife. The biggest one I had. I remember getting it for Christmas two years ago from my dad, who is a big outdoors person. It was stainless steel with a print of a wolf's head on the blade. It had a smooth wooden grip with a wolf's head engraved on the handle.

'What are you waiting for? Don't you want to get back at your dad for all that he has done to you? You've got to do this now. NOW!'

I licked my lips nervously as I nodded to Becka's question and positioned the knife. Yes, of course I wanted to get back at my dad. I know what he does to me is wrong, but he has told me on numerous occasions that he would 'end me' if ever I told anyone about what happened behind closed doors.

I corrected my grip on the handle and brought the tip to my lips. I took a steadying breath before I plunged it into me. I screamed through the wooden dowel that I had in my mouth and bit down so hard, that I thought that it would break. I twisted it and twisted it hoping to make as much damage as I could, so much that my dad would stop raping me every night. I wanted so badly to stop right then, but Becka kept coaching me on.

'You're doing great. Keep going. You're getting him. You're showing him. Keep going, Shelbie.'

I could see the blood and mangled flesh of what was left of my womanly parts, on the sheets and I think that is what made me stop. I pulled the knife out and threw it away from me. It hit the wall before clattering onto the bare wooden floor leaving a streak of blood on the white walls and floor. I spat the dowel out and looked down at what I had done to myself.

It was a mess. There was blood everywhere and it was still spurting when I started to feel light headed. Why was I feeling lightheaded? I vaguely remembered that if you lost enough blood that you could die, by bleeding to death. I couldn't have possibly done enough damage to do that. Could I? I watched as the blood kept flowing and the pieces of flesh that where being torn away from the torrent. It stank like an iron works and that was when I remembered that blood was full of iron. I hated the smell of iron. My dad always smells like iron when he comes home from the iron works.

That was also when I realized that it was quiet. Not just in the house, but in my head. I listened and I couldn't hear Becka anymore, nor John or Julie. Where did they go, I did not know.

The world was starting to turn black around the edges as I groaned. The pain was terrible and just now I realized that I might have hit something important in my plan of vengeance. The blood was still flowing freely and it didn't look like it was going to let up.

I fell backwards and gasped a ragged breath. The sheets were soaked in my blood and the world was starting to become darker ever quicker. I tried to grasp at the light, but it kept eluding me until it was nothing more than a pinprick and then nothing. And with that I slipped into nothing, where I could hear the screams of eternal pain and feel the raging furnaces of Hell and the bites of the infamous Hell Hounds.

So much for hurting my dad. It seems more like I've hurt myself by committing suicide and sending myself to Hell. So much for that plan.