Disclaimer: To my friends,family, teachers and fans who read this I am not suicidal nor a cutter! I do however have a very dark imagination and it came up with this story. So yeah not suicidal or a cutter,dark imagination, Point of view of an inanimate object and thats it. Enjoy.


The red liquid drips into the bath water. This is the second time this week. He never used to use me so much, maybe once or twice a month. Today he cut deeper than ever before and we went a different way this time. I never wanted to be this bloodied thing! I wish I could yell at him to stop but he can't hear me. I remember when he was in second grade his face so happy as I sharpened his dull pencil. He found me again a couple years ago and took me out of my original case to wrap me up in a cloth and shove me in some dark corner. I never wanted to hurt him. He draws me across her skin writing something.


"G". He stops for a minute I can hear his breathing becoming softer. "A" Lastly a "Y". Why I wonder the same thing as I slip from his fingers falling onto the cold marble tiles stained with little droplets of blood.


He doesn't stir when his little sister bangs on the bathroom door telling him super is done and mom wants him down when he is done. Not ten minutes later when his dad is ponding on the door trying to see if he is okay. Not when his mom opens the door with the extra key and screams,stepping over me to reach her lifeless son laying in the bathtub. Not when the people wearing black suits and shiny badges take him away.

Plink,Plink goes the water as they lift him out of the bath.

Plink,Plink goes the blood that drips off of me when a person in a black suit picks me up muttering shame and puts me in a plastic bag.

Plink,Plink goes the pink water as the stopper is pulled out and all his sins washed down the drain along with all his hope.