The Knife

No specific plot to this. It was pretty much just a starter.

She stared down at it with such fascination, she had never stared at anything with the same look she had on right now. Her eyes were completely fixed on it, they stared without blinking and she didn’t even realize it.

It sat on the counter in front of the coffee maker. The light in the kitchen shined down on it, causing it to gleam brightly like it was a diamond ring.

She picked it up, it felt as light as a feather. She ran her fingers gingerly over the edges, if she pressed down, they would cut her fingers and cause her to bleed.

A tingle was sent down her spine. Goosebumps formed on her bare arms. But the feeling was good. The best feeling ever, in fact. She tapped the tip of the knife against her index finger. It pricked lightly at her skin. A couple of times she was caught off from it and jumped.

She turned it over in her hands, studying every part of it carefully. The thick black handle, the slimness of the silver blade with its bumpy edges and pointy tip.

She left the kitchen, holding the knife in her hand by its handle. She gripped it, releasing all of her anger into it. She gripped it so hard her hand was beginning to cramp, but she didn’t care. The knife would be her way out. It would bring her happiness. And soon, it would be covered in dark red blood.