I walked with my head hung low, the rain beating me down more, if that was possible. Id been walking for hours, looking for some reason to keep on breathing.
Reaching into my pocket i withdrew a sharp, bone-handled knife. I drew my finger along the blade. Bright red drops of blood sprang up where the blade touched my finger. It amazed me that this was such a great tool, even though it was old. Suddenly I felt happy again. 

I heard a voice inside my head, urging me on, telling me to sink my knife into warm, pliant, yielding skin. I tried to shut out the noise in my head. I started running and screaming, "Go Away!" 

The look of pure terror on the face of a grey-haired woman leaning on a walker on her porch spurred me on. The lightning struck nearby and the rumble of thunder muted my cries. But the voice kept whispering.

I made my way to an alley, near an old garbage can and sank into a moldy, overstuffed chair. Even in the midst of the craziness, "God provides", i thought. I pulled your letter out of my purse and dashed the tears from my eyes.

"Dear Anne" i read, "I dont love you anymore. By the time you read this ill be long gone. Im sorry i took all the money in the savings account but i guess i need it more than you do.  You always knew this was temporary, that i wanted to play in the band. Well now I got my chance! See ya around, Mike".

I ripped up the letter into tiny pieces and started to cry.

The voice started whispering to me again. I wondered if it was Mike trying to get into my head. I touched the blade of the knife again and the message got stronger and stronger. I tried to resist it, squeezed my eyes tightly closed and started chanting the only prayer i could remember. 

"Now i lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If i should die before i wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take."

The voice faded into the background for a while and i sobbed. I hadnt been to church in so many years. I didnt have any right to ask God for help now. 

The bright shiny glint of steel fascinated me. The sharpness of the blade called to me. I kept trying to shut out the voice. I fell into a dream as i stared at the knife. 

Absentmindedly, i started drawing patterns on my skin with the knife. The blood welled forth as i traced a pattern on my skin. It reminded me of a tatoo. I didnt mind the whisper anymore. 

The rush of pain made me gasp but it grounded me and i awoke with a start. I looked at the circles i had just carved on my arm. The blood oozed out. Drip drip drip...I watched it fall on the ground in little splashes. Each spatter unlike the others. Kind of like snowflakes. 

I slid the blade across my wrist and the blood came faster running across my hand and fingers like ghastly ruby jewelry. I admired the effect. I remembered someone telling me long ago that a person serious about slashing their wrists would cut up and down along the artery, not across, to be most effective. Concentrating now and ignoring the pain, i traced the path of my artery with the tip of the knife.

I jabbed it in and raked it deeply inside my tender flesh!

The voice seemed to fade in my head. I was getting tired but i was pleased with the effort i was making, the mess i was making.  I watched my life force ebb from me. I lay my head back and stared into the twilight as it crept across the night sky. 

I stared at the stars in the sky and felt the wetness and warmth trickling faster down my hand. I thought of Mike playing in the band. I thought of his letter. I thought of how i didnt care anymore. Just wanted this pain in my heart to end. 

Dreams came to me of love and quickly faded. I felt a lassitude wash over me. The voice was gone. The red puddle grew bigger and bigger as i faded into sleep. 
As i closed my eyes i once again murmured, " Now i lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If i should die before i wake, i pray the Lord my soul to take".

The stars winked at me.

Sherry ©1998 Oct 9