I loved him and it hurt so much. But now he didn’t want me.
I took the razor and traced a fine line across my wrist first. Imagining the cut. Feeling the wine fill my blood, making my head whoozie.
Clearing my mind of all thoughts.
I traced the razor again over my wrist, but this time applying pressure.
The first cut hurt the most, as I drew it across my wrist.
I sucked in my breathe. The pain sweeping through me and somehow the relief.
How mad does that sound, as I watch my blood drip into the bath, my arm leaning on the side.
My blood dripping into the water and emerging in it. Sliced through the skin on my other wrist, before I changed my mind, and quickly poured another glass of wine.
Downing it in one, and then pouring another.
And then lay back down, watching my blood drip into the bath, changing the colour of the bath from clear to a pale pink.
Slowly closing my eyes as my sleep washed over me.
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