I watched the blood drip out of my hand.

Drop by drop. Drip by drip.

Out of blatant curiosity I lifted to my neck, the knife which caused all this strife. The smallest cut was made, only an inch long.

I peered into the looking glass, seeing the red line across my jugular. As the flow got heavier my face grew whiter.

How interesting it is, how just an inch can have such dire consequences.

My eyelids grew heavier but I fought it, determined to watch myself die, to watch my life drain out of my eyes as I have done to so many others.

Just an inch.