The Drop

She realized she was pushing the knife further into the crease of her neck, the thin red line spilling a single drop, the pressure not yet enough to break through, but enough to cause alarm.

Slowly, she took the knife away from her neck and relaxed her hand which was gripping it.

The man smiled in the corner, one of those smiles that stuck with you in your dreams. It was technically perfect, handsome even, but also frightening, bone-chilling.

She took a sigh of relief, her hand still relaxed, and finally felt like she had a fighting chance.

Just as suddenly as her hand relaxed, her hand tensed, and moved in a quick blur to her left wrist, slicing deeply, effortlessly. She thought the blood would be vibrant red, but it was murky crimson. Her head felt light, and her feet felt weak.

‘It won’t take as long as you think, enjoy the ride’, he said as he came over and dipped a finger into the pool of blood forming. He licked his finger like she used to when baking brownies when she thought nobody was looking.

She felt the light dimming, her thoughts slowing. She looked down at her wrist, the cut so deep she felt her hand would fall off if she moved it. That is if she had the life left in her to move it.

‘I’ll see you on the other side’, he said, and he left.

-D.R Breshears


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