"We tried to be better, but we aren't. I don't think anyone could last more than a week here if they weren't willing to do bad things." - Alba Reyes

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Viewing Single Post From: and you may say to yourself, "My god, what have I done?"
nope
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throw that pussy like i'm famous
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The regret moved faster than her hands could. It came with the first sparks of pain as they crackled across her throat. She hadn’t thought of the pain. She hadn’t expected the nerve endings to react so savagely. She hadn’t really expected to feel at all. But the pain was there and it was violent, lionishly scratching and barbing where the skin split. The flesh of her face bent against the bone in a vulgar expression. Everything was too slow. It was supposed to be quick, clean. It was supposed to be an out. Not this. It couldn’t be this. She tried to push harder. Blood and fever spouted out against the digging edge. She’d push down to he bone if it would make it faster. Just not this, not for a moment longer. She didn’t want there to be pain. She couldn’t die in pain.

She felt Kimberly’s hand begin to slip from under her own and even as the blade cut deeper she knew she’d lost.

She weakened her grip. A blur of motion left Rhory’s right hand the only one on the knife’s hilt. She tore it away from her throat with a gasp. She held it away. It dangled harmlessly in the air above her chest, bold against the white backdrop of the bandages. She stared at it as the other girl stormed in her peripherals and ranted distant words that would never reach Rhory. The numb ring finger curled pathetically around the rubbery grip. Blood splashed garishly across the rest. She dropped it to her side.

She brought her trembling left arm to her neck. Blood and sweat soaked the sleeve of her henley immediately. A slow trickle had already burrowed under her collar. She brought the sleeve up to her eyes. The stain was unimpressive. The physical evidence was so much less dramatic than her synapses had declared. She brought the arm back down and forced her chin over it, providing pressure to the newest slit. She rocked herself ungracefully onto her left side. The probing stream of blood followed gravity’s new pull and began to wrap around her nape. She brought her legs in. She draped her right arm over her chest. She tried to go back to being numb.

Something clawed over her left cheek. She realized she was crying.

She was so empty and so weak and so fucking useless.
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and you may say to yourself, "My god, what have I done?" · The Felled Forest: North