Fleeting

Part VIII - Va-grant
A/N: hope you enjoy this one. i tried writing it in a different kind of way. you can probably tell that by the first half of the part, but i recon i got a good blend of the style i wanted for this piece by the second half. enjoy.

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She held the blade loosely in between her finger and thumb, shifting it slowly from side to side as she looked at it's glinting surface in the pale moonlight. She could make out the shallow lines hastennto nto the flat surface, and abjectly wondered why, if so marred by it's making, should it feel so soft to touch, so smooth.

The diamond shape that coursed down the center of the razor blade left shallow indentations of pressure over her finger tips, and she ran them over the aperture, digging her flesh harsher, almost smiling at the soft, rippling sensation that raced into her wrist and gently blossomed out over the muscles that lay beneath the skin.

Rolling up her sleeve, she prolonged the moment before her entire forearm was revealed. Glistening white skin shimmers with streaks of moonshine. The delicate rays of ether-glow, rebounding off the downy blonde hairs, creating flutters of flocculent shadows, weaving breakable patterns over the appendage.

She grasped the small silver blade more firmly within her hold, taking a moment to once again relish the compression within her digits, before apathetically laying the tiny corner on the under of of her limb. Her breathing almost coming to a complete halt as she stared at the bitter sweetly beautiful image before her eyes.

The palest expanse of cool, smooth skin, seemingly flowing, changing, breathing over her forearm, a stunted indentation in the river of her flesh, where the miniscule but deadly blade was applying the smallest amount of pressure underneath it's point.

The muscles within the extremity holding the razor seemed to move of it's own accord. The shoulder cramping slightly, holding the elbow steady as that, in turn, shifted the wrist. The complex series of movements creating a slow, sweeping action with the cutlass.

She watched in abject fascination as a small crevasse seemed to blossom hkin kin apart, the sight of her raw flesh beneath causing her to gasp gently. To see what makes us is a powerful drug, one that is not easily quenched and quickly covered up. As so the slice in her arm swiftly fills with blood, the swallow cut spilling but one drop onto untouched skin.

Lost within the beauty of her actions, and powerful notion of utter control, she felt a void, at the misplacement of her reason. Although breathtaking to sight and almost heart stopping to watch, the pain she craved was forfeit to the vision before her.

Movon ton to another area of, as of yet, untouched skin, she quickly sliced, a soft hiss escaping her as she refused to focus not on the image, but on the pain. A deep lying, resounding physical anguish at the sensation of her skin being split open like ripe fruit before her.

An almost tidalic wave of sharp, shooting pain vibrated within the appendage, causing the hairs on her skin to stand on end. The shadows that lay a gentle breeze of grass shapen pattern across her flesh now becoming nothing more than pin pricks of darkness, washing over her, as the blood quickly raced towards gravity.

The slight feeling of agony that had started to fade, pressing her on, making her move the blade once more over her skin and add laceration after laceration upon her outer, tormented shell. A delicate yet bitterly alluring constellation of slices weaved an intricate impression across her arm.

Streaks and small rivers of crimson liquid converging into one oceanic waterfall, cascading from limb to sand, as the patterns in her mind became a reality on tanvaanvas of her own body. Swirling images of dark, blood stained designs galloped through her mind, without knowledge being transferred to her arm and instantly dismissed as another took its place.

Time stood still with that blade, tracing its way over her skin, drawing lacerations that were unconsciously planned, ripping hairs from their roots, and the reddest blood she had ever witnessed from her veins. Pain forgotten as the part of her mind that was usually so quite and submissive took over, controlling her limbs, commanding her muscles, weaving that tiny implement of death.

The pain was all but forgotten, the beauty dismissed and the liquid that now coated her skin in a slick sheen unnoticed, as she turned her arm this way and that, attempting to reach any area of her forearm that was missed, and not yet 'drawn' upon.

Her breathing came out ragged, as she slowed to a stop, having found herself out of the canvas she had now become accustomed to using, her heart beating out a temperal rhythm within her chest. The world slowly came back into focus. The moon draping the beach with it's gentle light, the waves as they quietly caressed the sandy shores.

And the points of pressure in her fingertips, where the pads of her digits pressed tightly into the diamond shaping of the center of the blade. The resounding and cont tht throbbing of her arm, it yelling out its protest against being abused as such.

She clenched her fingers into a fist, attempting to either alleviate the ache, or to intensify it. Not knowing which. Her digits slipped over each other, causing her to look at the offending limb. She startled slightly, to see it covered in her own lifeblood, the crimson aqueous material covering her entire forearm in rivers that bled into each other.

Her eyes turned towards the sand beneath her, her eyes roaming freely over the splattering of deep darkness over the sands, knowing in the morning that all traces of her ever being here would be washed out to sea. Yet the cravings on her arm being testament to her endeavour.

She rose slowly, using her unmarred hand to once again drape the razor blade around her neck with its chain, and pushing that hand into her pants pocket. Her eyes lazily travelled the gently breaking waves of the ocean in front of her, causing her hair to shift in the wind.

Looking down once more, at her crude blood splrs ors on the dusty sand, she started the gentle walk back towards the town.

Unwittingly forever leaving her beautifully soulful markings upon the sand, where she rested for just a while.


Continued Next in: Torture Me