By Grace Black
She cut.
I saw beneath her flesh, below the self-inflicted wounds of loathing. Colors she dismissed. Chartreuse and tangerine. I knew her in ways she exposed to no one else, beauty she desperately hated.
I mainlined.
Shared pasts piled with anguish and abuse. She needed the steady control, hum of the blade. I preferred to hide.
She cut. I got wasted.
“Today’s assignment, write what you feel. Hundred words or less.” Rehab doesn’t bring the dead back.
I grasped the pen, my mind a sieve, took the breath she couldn’t and wrote a single word on the crisp, white page:
Nothing.
And yet you say so much. I loved this.
Thanks so much for reading and taking time to comment!
Very well written. I loved it!
Thanks, Firdaus! Glad to see you here.
Hundred words or less… ‘Nothing’ is less, but it equals a lot more… great job!
Thanks so much for taking the time to read and comment.
This is beautifully written and very powerful. How many times are people asked, if they are ok, and their reply is ‘its nothing’. Nothing…….. is always ‘something’. Great piece of writing x