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The Pen is Mightier than the Sword

Only Death Can Free You


DarkPainInside

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As the girl trudged across the dewy oval on Monday morning, her feet leaving depressions in the grass, she shivered, for the morning was cold. The sun had not yet risen above the pines, on the far side of the field.

Pulling her coat up around her frail body, she heard the clink of metal against coin in her pocket as she did so. Her razor. The girl never went anywhere with out it now., she couldn’t stand to be apart from its slicing blade, or its smooth handle. When times got too tough, like her father beat her brothers, or she heard her mother crying in the bathroom, its cold, unemotional tearing of her flesh, calmed her. The blade cut out everything, blocked out the emotions and left only physical pain, as it stung her wrists. Her guiding light, her saviour. Her Razor. She would not be lonely today.

 

She entered the school grounds and saw the Beautiful Ones- with make-up, fashionable clothes, and style. The girl didn’t care anymore, because at least she wasn’t dead. As they stared at her, her black coat billowing behind her, she smiled. They didn’t have a clue. They had never felt the blow of her father’s wrath, or the sorrow of her mother’s crying. They would never need saving by a razor or knife. How could they, or anyone possibly hope to know what she was going through? How could she possibly hold hope that they did? She didn’t, anymore.

 

After school, the girl dragged her feet, back over the oval, towards home and terror.

The door was open when she got there and it appeared there was no movement inside. She stepped over the threshold and into Chaos.

Her father was standing in the kitchen, drunk, as usual. He was holding one of her brothers cricket bats in his shaking hands, over his shoulder, swaying slightly, staring at the ground, several feet away. The girl followed his gaze, and to here horror, she saw her mother, lying, on the kitchen tiles, her fair hair matted with blood.

Her mothers’ eyes were closed, and she had gone into the foetal position, clutching her wounded head; the gaping hole in the back of it was covered in blood, bone, and grey fluid. There was also a trickle of blood creeping from her mothers’ mouth. The girls’ father had murdered her mother. He had finally gone too far. She rushed up to her bedroom, and slammed the door, tearing off her bag and coat as she went.

 

The blood flowed easily this time, as the girl made two identical cuts up and down each arm with the sharp metal edge of her razor. She stood in front of her mirror, string blindly at her crimson wrists, the blood oozing from them. She hardly felt the pain, only the tears as she fell to the ground, in a bloody heap.

 

 

 

:dragon2:

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O wow this is so cool and really weird cos i know people that do this to themselves! I actually wrote a story like this for a big english exam i had there back in june it was rather good but i think yours is alot better as i had to drag out the story for it to make a good essay! Also in my one the mother ended up committing suicide because she couldnt stand the father! Cool story though! :D

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Hey Arwen, i wrote this for an assesment task too! :)

The teacher didnt like it.

suprise suprise! http://www.themightypen.net/public/style_emoticons/default/ohmy.gif

 

Thats where i got the inspiration from; real life; myself, and friends. I think i know about this stuff coz unfourtunatly i see it first hand.

'Once you cut, you cant stop'

Thanx for the encouragement!!

;)

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*wavery teary eyes* Meow! This is such a great story! I would say that i have the same problem with razors, but I don't consider it a problem... everyone else does. You know, at some point in time, I'd like to hear some of your philosophical thoughts on life, if you have any. In turn, perhaps I could share my 'corrupted' views as well. simply a suggestion for a conversational piece. I truly enjoyed this. Bravo, my good man, bravo!

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Thanks Damon; i dont understand either; i hate hiding my cuts- its my choice to do it for god sake! The only time it 'upsets' me is when others see them and go nuts!

I am probably what you'd call Left Wing nutcase! i am a part pacifist, part anarchist, part psycho. i sparypainted the word "FREEDOM" across my school's head office.

according to sum people i have problems. LOL!!!!!!

 

:) Love 2 chat!

 

PS (i'm female. i may not look it, but i assure you, i am! the amount of times i have been asked if im a 'trannie' down the street, i tell you!!)

lol

;)

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The expression 'my good man'... sorry about that. It's more of a general term derived from somewhere. I think I took it from "Dear boy? Dear Boy?!" *pig chuckles* in some Cold War film that featured animals instead of people most of the time. I saw it in government class...

 

Ah, I generally find myself doing them in some discreet location, normally my shoulder. It's not so much as an effort to hide them, but rather it seems moe controlled there. I like patterns... >~_~< But, when my mom's cat just basically rips my hand apart, I'm happy about it. I don't really care what they think, though my mom doesn't seem to understand that. she just shakes her head. (Being 18 is wonderful.)

 

I'm not what you would call an extremist in the point of my anarchy, but I do hold to my beliefs. And just the same, I am a pacifist (until someone insults or hurts my girlfriend), but my sadistic tendencies get a lot of wierd looks. My sister one time told me that she was afraid when I was joking around with her. I was mocking like i was going to clobber her with a hatchet, and she said that "you look like you want to do it." I'm not going to brutally murder them, but it's fun to see their reaction anyway.

 

To everyone else, I'm crazy, insane, loony, deranged, malignant, anti-social, depressed, and all of that fun stuff. To me... I'm me. Meow!

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Hn... I'm not one for cutting my legs, unless it's by accident. I guess it's because it's more difficult to keep an eye on them, and you risk it getting infected a lot more. I mean, generically, you're always wearing pants, and pant's have lint, and lint gets into the cut and infects it. infection sucks. It's not painful, and it can do some really bad stuff to you... But, that's my opinion. I guess the same can be said about the fact I ALWAYS wear a shirt, and the whole lint thing about my shoulder... But, that's why I wear polyester,where the only thing I really have to worry about is that evil static electricity which shocks my cats every time i touch them... they don't like that, but I think it's funny. >^_^< They'll live, and it just makes them attack me in a playful manner. >^_^<

 

For some awkward reason, I don't think I could cut my throat, even if I wanted to. that's a little painful, unless it's just a scratch, and your jugular vein isn't too far below the surface. Your carotid arterie (sp?) is much deeper though. I printed out a list of suicide methods one time, and it gave some interesting details. I was a little crepy about it... But I almost keep thinking I'm immortal... did yo know that I took 29 Aleve pills, and i'm still sitting at this computer several months after that? I should be dead, right?

 

I guess I don't bother myself with scars and superficial wounds that can be seen because of a light vanity problem as well. I'm not oppposed to having what could be 'battle scars of my willpower's weakness' but I prefer not to be horrifically mutated in some way. I don't think I'd try to insert knives in place of my fingers, you know?

 

But, I've got a good deal of cuts that have healed over time, I think it numbers well over 40 or so. It will keep going for some time, until perhaps I grow up. (which probably won't happen) I worry a lot of people, but the only one i care about worrying is my girlfriend. that's why I don't do it as often...

 

Bleh... and no, you don't scare me at least. You should see some of the looks i get when i can portray a gruesome image as simple as gouging out someone's eyes. I have that 'psycho appearance' and people never seem to bother me.

 

(Melodramatic) Why won't anyone play with me?! I just want to be friends! Here, i'll save you one of your arms, honest! I just need the other one. I swear, Frankenstein is real!!! He's Real DAMMIT! Augh! Gimme that arm! It's mine! Don't fight me damn it! *chopping sounds* Um... Damn. i killed another one...

 

for more info on my life and my internal conflicts, check out all... more than eighty of my DJ entries at My Webpage

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