It will only be a small scrape.
Then I start.
I get caught in the rhythm of stroking my skin.
I stroke harshly and with the sharp edge.
I can't stop.
I see it getting red.
I see blood starting to slowly ooze out of the wound,
but I keep going.
Striking my skin harder, faster.
It's not me in control anymore.
I can feel it pulsing.
It's starting to swell.
Redder and redder it gets,
more and more blood starting to flow out.
And yet I still continue.
Harsher strokes still, the wound is widening now.
I'm an outsider in my own body,
watching these hands that are no longer mine tarnish my body.
And suddenly, I stop.