The Cut

 Every night he went to bed, he made the same wish. That everything would be different the next day. And every morning,when he woke up,he knew that,yet another day,his wish hadn't come true. The same breakfast,the same ride to school,the same fixed smile on his face. And then the iron door would close firmly behind him. The same yelling,pushing,name calling. The same humiliation as any other day.

 Nothing ever changed. The only thing different,the only thing he looked forward to,was the drops of blood. The drops of his blood. The shape and size as they oozed from the cut,small yet deep enough,carefully carved on his upper thigh or arm. Each drop different. Never the same. And every night the same wish. That everything would be different the next day.

                                                                                                          Written by Ms Paragon