The Pleasure of Knives

As I sobbed, I heard a loud, piercing I knew well...

"SHING!" the sound rang out, and although it made me more afraid...I felt...I felt a smile wash over my lips.  I looked up, brushing at my eyes as cries continued to pour like blood out of my mouth.  

"Miss me?" the blade seemed to say, locked in her tight grasp.  She turned it over in her hands, smirking evilly, and I knew that I had.  I had, oh, I had been missing it!  To feel the sharp knife running along my forearm, watching red blood pour out...watching it spill in a trance...I loved that knife, the feel of the hilt in my fingers as it sliced at was she who gave it to me, and for that I was eternally grateful.  Then, one day, she took it back...apparently, father was "worried" for me...about me...

He didn't need to be, as she and I both tried to convince him.  

The End

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