An extract from the second chapter of my second book
A single tear rolled down his face and then he remembered. He remembered what Bonnie had told him. He could control the pain, he could release it. It would come at a cost; the cost of scars he could never remove. But it was worth it, it was worth having a few scars if he could get rid of the pain in his chest.
But he didn’t have anything sharp enough to cut his skin; all the knives were in the kitchen. He wouldn’t be able to get to the kitchen and take a knife without his aunt and uncle seeing. Suddenly, he remembered something else. On top of his wardrobe, he had a small knife. He had used it to cut the tape on the boxes when he had moved to his Aunt and Uncle’s.
He moved to the side of his bed and stood up; he reached up to the top of his wardrobe and let his hand search the surface. He felt the handle, grabbed the knife and slowly lowered it down. He sat on the side of his bed and placed the cold blade against his wrist. He left the knife there as so many questions ran through his head. "Are you sure you want to do this? How much is this going to hurt? Are you sure you want scars?"
Along with the questions came more despair and regret about everything that had ever happened or that he had ever done. "I just don’t want to feel like this any more." As he said this, he dragged the blade across his skin. The pain was unreal and forced another tear to fall from his eye and onto the blade.
When he looked down, there was no blood. Only a graze, but it still released so much pain. "Imagine how much pain and agony you can release when you draw blood" he thought to himself as he swiped the blade across his skin again. He cut deep enough this time.
He was in a whole new world of ecstasy, his arm dropped by his side as a smile spread across his face. Gravity pulled the blood down as it rolled down his arm and reached his fingertips before finally dripping onto the carpet.
Thomas now had full control; he could release so much stress, so much anger and pain! He raised the knife again and engraved another dyke into his arm. He continued to cut and cut until he realised that, at some point, he had to stop. He slowed down the cutting and after each one he said to himself "Just one more, and then I’ll stop. Just one more".