this story is about someone who has an addiction that involves cutting their wrists
I stand outside the wooden door and turn the knob ever so slightly. It opens to a cold, dark room with a lamp on the dresser next to the bed. My feet are bare and the floor is icey cold. I walk over to the bed and sit down next to the stuffed rabbit given to me by my father. As I look on the dresser I notice the object I stole from the kitchen while no one was looking. Its a piece of metal, broken off of a tray. It has two sharp, jagged edges and a smooth middle. I pick it up. It is cold. Cold as ice. I press the sharp end to the naked skin on my wrist and push down softly. Then I see it. All the anger, sadness, frustration, and confusion pouring out of my arm like a waterfall. It tells me good-bye and then it leaves. And suddenly, its over. Its gone and I am happy once more. I can see tomorrow and I know it will be a good day.