Copyright 2013 Douglas T. Vale
Cover image courtesy of Joseasreyes / StockFreeImages.com
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Betty walked home from LaMordia high school squinting at her shadow.
When she reached her house she dropped her backpack just inside the door, went to the kitchen, and then took a knife out of the knife block. The side was smooth and light flowed down it.
"Good enough." She took the knife to the downstairs bathroom. In the bathroom she set the knife on the counter while she double-checked her hair and makeup. She had dark brown hair. She picked up the knife, sat on the tiled floor with her back against the wood cabinets under the sink, and then scraped the knife along her wrist. She stared at the numb, gaping canyon the knife edge had made. Blood seeped out and flowed down her arm to drip on the beige tiles.
"Wow," She said as she switched the knife to her bloody hand and then cut her other wrist. After a while her hands shook so much the knife slithered from her grip and clattered to the tiles. "How's this, Mom?" She closed her eyes and rested her head against the sink panels. Then she heard the dull grunt of a car motor pulling in to the driveway. "No. Shit..." her eyes fluttered and then closed again before she slumped sideways on the tiles. Her consciousness fled, and blackness sat on her.