By: Terrified of Logic

The start of my little one page oneshots. Their not supposed to have meaning. It possibly one of the sickest twisted things i have written. If you like this kinda stuff.... as a writer i should get out of my boundaries and explore other genres...I've never written this kinda thing before o.0 and please. I dont whore for reviews. But i still would like one- if you liked the story. Or even if you didn't but enough of that------ read read read!


Case 1:

I cut myself because I heard people do when they feel upset. I cut myself because it's different. I cut myself because I have to distract myself from the thoughts of him.

He didn't- doesn't care what happens to me. I'm just another girlfriend. Or fling. Or girl. Or simply just another person in his life. I cut myself because I like seeing the freshness come out. It's refreshing. A taste unlike the stale attitude I have been drinking for the last five months. The same repetitive conversations and actions.

Yes…. I'm bored and I want something new. Something that will engage me, that will keep me motivated, captivated and not at all frustrated.

So, call me an idiot or not, I told him about my fantasies with a blade. He had a peculiar look on his face. I trailed a finger up his arm, a demonstration perhaps? I leaned in forward as he leaned backwards. My hand on his chest, breathe hot and heavy. This was entertaining. I don't want to be that weak person receiving a kiss.

I will dominate, I will conquer, I will seize.

My tongue a curious muscle, ghosts along the side of his neck. He is pushing me off now. But my fist has entangled itself in his shirt. I won't let go- not now or ever. But he has managed to pry me off.

So I sit here blade in hand, the tiles cold against my bum. I'm bored again. He told me he didn't care if I cheated on him. So he didn't care did he…he pushed me away, just as I push this blade. It stings, like the hiss of a snake. But I love it. It's different from what he gives me. It's entertainment.

Spontaneously I wipe up the red rivulet with a finger and wipe two stripes on my cheeks. I've never done that before. Feral. I don't recognize myself. A huntress from the Middle Ages maybe. I strip down for effect, my breasts half hidden by a curtain of dark hair. My hand whispers down my stomach till it reaches a dark apex below. The blade remains on the floor. Taxis and buses of London roar outside the bathroom window, the world moves on without me.

A huntress stopped in time- who never caught her elusive prey. I've done things. I have. But it's enough entertainment for today. The façade comes off, little by little. I feel a strange pulsation at the middle between my legs. My phone rings, I pick it up. I pause because I love hearing the sound of insanity. His voice, my drug, my blade. It's a threesome of emotions. And I love it. He wants more. He's sorry. He has to apologise, but not before I have some more entertainment…

The End