Blood In The Dark

That night was hazy. I know the exact time the blade sliced my skin. 11:02pm. I know the time the blood finally stopped flowing. 11:38pm. Little else is clear in my mind. I don't know why I did it. I don't know what I did afterwards. All I remember is that space of time between the blood beginning to flow and when I mopped up the red droplets from my desk. My shoulder is still badly scarred. I thought I was going to die that night. I wept at the thought. But it made me stronger, in a way, despite how I am still too weak to do the right thing. I stared Death in the face, turned around and walked away. Because it's not the dark I'm scared of anymore: it's what's in it.