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I never wanted this. I mean, it wasn’t my fault for Pete’s sake! I didn’t deserve this. But yet, as I sit on the edge of my bed in the psych ward, I think I actually do deserve this. All this was brought on from my actions, no one else’s.

I cut myself too deep last night. My brother found me on the bathroom floor barely alive. I had lost three pints of blood. Isn’t that amazing? Three pints! All mine. All of it was my crimson, luscious river of life. Just the thought gives me chills, the good kind, of course.

“Kenly?” said a gentle voice. I looked near my door to see a woman who looked no older than me, wearing the famous white coat, smiling at me.

“Hi,” I said emotionless.

“I need you to complete this test for me. It’s to measure-”

“I know what it is. I’ve already done it when I was here last time,” I said, cutting her off.

“Yes, I have read that in your chart, but I need you to complete this one more time.” She smiled.

“Fine.”

We both said nothing for a few minutes until she finally left. Once I was sure she wouldn’t be returning I reached into my bra, and under the pad insert, and I found my little blade I always kept there.

“I could never forget about you, my little friend,” I whispered to the blade.

I quickly pulled my pants down to my knees and then sat on my bed. I took the blade to my right thigh with one quick swipe. There. All better, I thought to myself.

“Everything is alright now. It doesn’t even matter that I’m not getting out for another three months. I don’t care. Everything is a-okay as long as they never find you,” I whispered again.

I’ll finally be okay here.