There's Always a Price

I couldn't stand it, the constant taunting and bullying. It was too much. But I had a solution. One that would hopefully make them see the errors of their ways. I gripped the knife in my right hand and put my left wrist down on the table. I put the cold hard metal on my skin and slid it back quickly, making a straight slash across my wrist. The blood flowed out, my hand glistening with it. It felt like somebody was pouring warm water down it. It felt good, refreshing. It began to make small puddles on the cool marble. I dropped the knife and just sat there for a second, relishing in the feeling. Then I picked it up in my left hand. I put it on my right wrist and pulled down slowly and shakily. The cut was jagged and more blood splattered on the table. I sat there, my vision going dark, the liquid life slowly leaving my body. And as I thought of what it would be after I died I realized something. No matter what, there will always be a price to pay.