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Tears of Blood

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A tiny, fairy like girl sat with her back against an old, yellowing bathtub. Her porcelain skin stained with tears her tiny body gasped for breath. Shaking hands pulled a tiny box from its hiding spot behind a loose tile in the wall. She stared at its faux silver shine and the Victorian floral pattern. As she studied its rotting beauty she a conversation from moments earlier replayed over in her mind.

“I never wanted you!” his voice screamed at her. “You’ve been nothing but a thorn in my side since the day you were born”

She laid the box on the ground and opened the lid. Inside was a thin piece of white silk. Tiny fingers picked the silk up and unfolded it onto the floor. The cloth relieved a tiny razor blade, a bag of white powder, two thin stripes of nude-colored nylon, a tiny pink syringe and a picture of a young woman with a cheerful smile on her face.

A balding man in his late forties flashed her through her mind. She flinched and shot a quick at the locked door. Loud snoring echoed from the story below. The young girl exhaled a sigh of relief and went back to the dirty deed she was about to commit. She handled the items as if she were handling gold, taking them out gently and placing them on the silk cloth.

“Your mother was some w**** that dumped you on me and ran the first chance she got.”

She stood up and grabbed the dirty glass sitting by the sink. Turning the faucet to scalding-hot, she filled the glass and sat back down. Picking up the little baggy of white powder, she opened it, pouring the contents into the cup. She swirled together with her index finger, creating one solution.

Her pale, willowy fingers picked up the syringe and filled it with the contents of the cup. The substance shimmered under the fluorescent lighting of the bathroom. She lifted the full syringe up and tapped at the needle a few times. Her thumb pushed down on the plunger, releasing a gleaming drop of drug.

She picked up the piece of silk and wrapped into around her bicep. Grabbing a hold of the cloth, she pulled it tight, watching as the veins under her skin bulge under pressure. After waiting a few seconds, she brought the syringe up to her arm. She placed it against the vein and pushed. The needle slid in easily and shot the shimmering fluid into her bloodstream.

The room began to swarm around her. Her eyes clouded over and her breathing picked up. A yelp of surprise escaped her lips as her body began to shake uncontrollably. Suddenly, she collapsed onto the floor as her body set on fire. She crossed her legs and clutched herself. Pain filled her as she thrashed about on the bathroom floor. Sweat began to bead on her forehead; she felt so warm, it was uncomfortable.

‘Oh God!’ she brain screamed.

Her eyes widened and she let out a deep moan. She plunged her fingers inside of her, to try and ease the pain. She dug her heels in the tiles and arched her back as the feeling of ecstasy coursed through her. Whines scratched at the back of her throat as she touched herself.

Within a single motion, she withdrew her fingers and brought them to her face. They were covered in a slick, white substance. She wiped them clean on her shirt and then let them flop back down onto the floor. Rolling over, she laid her face against the cold tile floor.

“Why,” she cried, “why me?”

Tears filled her eyes and soon ran down her cheeks. Heat seared her body again. She raised her arms above her head and she began clawing at the floor. Her vision doubled with pain. She curled into a tiny ball in the middle of the floor.

Lying on her side; wrapping her arms around her fragile body. She pinched her eyes close and ground her teeth as the pain made its way from her head to the tips of her toes.

As she lay there, something red caught her eye. Tilting her head backwards, she looked at it. Eight lines of dark read liquid, smeared across the floor. Lying above the lines were thin pieces of what looked like plastic coated in the same substance. She lifted her hands up to pull her body closer when she noticed that they, too, were painted with dark red.

Her eyes widen in the realization of what happen. Tears began to stream down her cheeks as she sat up, trying to get as far away as possible from the blood.

“No,” she whispered, “no…”

She shook her head and tried to calm herself; but to no avail. Her hands ran themselves through her hair, leaving trails of blood all over. She screamed and threw herself about the small enclosed space.

“No one will ever love a useless s*** like you!” The sneering words of her father ran through her mind over and over again.

“If I have to feel pain, I’d rather feel a different sort than what I’m feeling now,” she breathed.

Her hand reached down, grasping the razor off of the floor. Blood suddenly gashed from between the cracks and poured down her arm. A smile graced her lips as excitement embedded itself into her brain.

Blood soon spilled from the narrow cuts on her pale, white leg, staining the white nightshirt she wore. Crimson flowed down the rivulets, before landing into the pool below her. Blood filled the cracks in the tile floor, forming another pool around the half-empty syringe.

“Why don’t you just go off and die so I can get to living!”

The aching from the fresh bruises dulled as a new pain was brought forth. She hissed at it spread through her already-battered body. Her chapped lips formed a smiled at the pleasure brought forth from the pain.

“Yes…” She breathed out, as the razor dropped from her hand. “Take it all away…”

She tilted her head and looked into the cracked mirror in front of her. It showed that her small body was littered with big, ugly bruises, most the size of a softball. Her upper legs were covered in fine scars, most of them a throbbing red from being infected. Her usually bright, green eyes were now dull and hazed from the sweet ecstasy she had taken just moments ago.

“Let me forget…”She whispered into the silent air, “I don’t want it…”

Sweat dripped around her flushed face, as she took her blood-laced hand and ran it through her choppy blond locks, now tinged with vermilion. She gazed at the bloody hand before her, and she took each finger into her mouth, one at a time, licking the blood from each digit.

Returning to the forgotten bade; she bent forward to get a good look at her leg. Blood pulsed through the veins that lay underneath the tender skin. A smiled curled onto her lips. Her head swayed back and forth.

“Hush little baby,” she whispered, “don’t you cry…”

The blade was raised and slowly brought back down, piercing through the soft flesh. She let out a moan of joy. Gingerly she dragged her bleeding legs up to her chest and gazed at the blood.

“Daddy is going to buy you a Mockingbird…”

She cradled her throbbing legs and tears began to flow down from her dull, misty eyes. She gazed up at the flickering light above, blinking on and off.

“If that Mockingbird don’t sing…”

Her world shifted. She slid down the side of the tub, laying her feverish face on the cool bathroom tiles. Tears streamed from her eyes. Her breathing labored, she choked on her vomit before finally spitting it out.

The haunting words “Daddy’s going to buy you a Diamond Ring…” hung in the air, unspoken as the world around her went dark.

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