I Love Writing Stories
NOTE: This is a total piece of fiction. This is not about me!! :)
[b]Red Resurrection[/b]
Alexa ran her fingertip along the red raised ridge on her arm. And then the next. And the next. And the next. Counting as she went.
"Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve."
An even dozen, a stable number, a completion. It was important to have the marks fit. One time she had forty marks on each arm because she thought it fit with the forty days and nights of the Flood. A number of total destruction.
And that's all she really wanted--total destruction of her pain, of her depression, of herself.
Each time she swore it would be the last, but she couldn't turn off the dullness, the ache in her soul. She always came back to it because she needed it to live and to die. The Goo Goo Dolls played in her head:
[i]When everything feels like the movies
Yeah, you bleed just to know you're alive.[/i]
And feeling dead, she reached for the blade. One more cut, she thought. One more. Thirteen. Another complete number. Jesus and the apostles.
Jesus.
Maybe that meant a resurrection, coming out of the tomb of nothingness and back into life. Alexa hoped for a resurrection.
And she drew the blade across her arm, watching the thin crimson line pop from her pale skin, collect in a blob, and then drip to the floor. Thirteen.
Alexa hoped for a resurrection. But she would welcome oblivion with open arms.
[b]Red Resurrection[/b]
Alexa ran her fingertip along the red raised ridge on her arm. And then the next. And the next. And the next. Counting as she went.
"Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve."
An even dozen, a stable number, a completion. It was important to have the marks fit. One time she had forty marks on each arm because she thought it fit with the forty days and nights of the Flood. A number of total destruction.
And that's all she really wanted--total destruction of her pain, of her depression, of herself.
Each time she swore it would be the last, but she couldn't turn off the dullness, the ache in her soul. She always came back to it because she needed it to live and to die. The Goo Goo Dolls played in her head:
[i]When everything feels like the movies
Yeah, you bleed just to know you're alive.[/i]
And feeling dead, she reached for the blade. One more cut, she thought. One more. Thirteen. Another complete number. Jesus and the apostles.
Jesus.
Maybe that meant a resurrection, coming out of the tomb of nothingness and back into life. Alexa hoped for a resurrection.
And she drew the blade across her arm, watching the thin crimson line pop from her pale skin, collect in a blob, and then drip to the floor. Thirteen.
Alexa hoped for a resurrection. But she would welcome oblivion with open arms.
