Scratches,

That's all they used to be.

Confined to one small patch on one arm.

Now look.

They've turned into caverns,

Spread out over both arms like a contagious disease,

Where blood oozes out,

Just a gentle flow

Of warm blood

Flowing down my arms,

Over my palms,

Passages dividing between my fingers,

Before dripping down into the water filled sink.

The water turns red,

Quicker now,

Now that my heart beat increases,

As I begin to panic,

It won't stop.

Why won't it stop?

Pulse quickens,

Get even more frustrated.

I take a deep breath

Inhaling the good cold air,

Calming myself down,

The blood flow slows down.

Good.

Take out the bandages and wrap them around the open wounds.

Drain the sink,

Pull down my sleeves,

Drain the water making sure of no blood stains,

Tidy up.

Exit the bathroom,

Go into my room to hide the evidence,

Yet still carrying the blade in my trouser pocket.

Go down the stairs,

Feeling the faint throbbing underneath the tightly bound fabric,

Produce a small smile.

No one will ever know my darkest secret,

Yet it's in plain sight,

You've just got to look more closely.

Look behind the laughter and the fake smiles,

All the happiness,

It could be anyone.

A person that you passed in the street,

That person sitting next to you,

Maybe even a family member.

Your closest friend,

The one to whom you swap your darkest secrets with,

Except for one secret.

One that they can never tell.

To anyone.

Ever.

They must not be discovered,

They want to continue with what they do when no one is around,

Because they are addicted.

Shamefully addicted.

But love it.