Living in Hell;

My wrist starts to tingle, as I set the rusty blade on my skin. I breathein and push down. As my skin splits the blood runs, down my wrist and dripsonto the shinny white floor. I pick a different spot set the blade down andpush; the blood starts to pour out faster, forming a puddle below me. Onemore time should do the trick, so I look for a vein through the bloodymess, set down the blade and push. I lye back and close my eyes waiting forit to end, but it doesn’t. I wake up with a clean stitched up wrist and ahospital bracelet. Tears run down my cheeks, I should be happy I’m aliveI’m not. My mother always told me hell is a scary place but I doubt itsany worse then the world we live in.