She sat on the edge of her bathtub, carefully pulling a razor up her leg. She took her time, like she always did, working without even thinking about it. She had done it a million times; this time was no different than the day before or the day before that or the week before last. She ran her fingers up her leg, making sure her efforts were reeling in the results she wanted. Like always, the pads of her fingers were greeted with smooth skin.

What if I cut myself? She began to think. What if I pushed down with the razor really hard, and I made a long red line from my ankle to my thigh? Why, my entire leg would turn red from all the blood! She shook her head at the ridiculous thought. It was stupid. Why would she want to have an ugly scar covering her entire leg? She always took such careful measures to keep even the slightest nicks from occurring!

Pushing the thought to the back of her mind, she finished her task like normal, got dressed, and went downstairs. Suddenly feeling ravenous, she made her way into the kitchen, seeking a knife to cut herself a slice of bread left over from dinner. The knife was sharp, and felt good in her hands. What if I sliced my wrist like I slice bread? What would that feel like? She shook her head again, more vigorously this time. She quickly cut her bread and threw the knife in the sink, away from her clutches and out of her mind.

She bit into her bread, grinding her teeth as she did so. My teeth are so sharp, she thought, I bet I could break my own skin if I bit hard enough. Her thoughts had made it to pondering the taste of her own blood before she forced herself to snap out of it. I’m being quite bizarre tonight, maybe I’m getting sick. Yes, that has to be it. She decided that going to bed early would help whatever was plaguing her pass faster, so she quickly finished her bread and hurried upstairs.

She began to brush her teeth, trying to remove all traces of dough that might have gotten stuck in between them. Could I choke if I shoved the other end far enough down my throat? Becoming terrified as quickly as the thought had crossed her mind, she finished as quickly as she could, rushing back to her bedroom where she thought she would be safe. She shut the door behind her, exhaling heavily as she did so.

She glanced about her room, noticing her hair straightener was still on the floor, the cord tangled up. As she set about to fix that, she wondered, how would the cord feel around my neck, getting tighter and tighter? And oh, what if the straightener was turned on to full power, pressing against my neck as the cord snapped my head clean off! This was the scariest thought of them all. Worried that there might be something worse coming, she quickly got into bed, squeezing her eyes shut, refusing to open them again until morning.

When the sun shone through her window, she felt better than ever. She stretched her arms high above her head, then got up to get dressed. She pulled a shirt over her head, followed with a skirt that sat just above her waist. She picked up the heels she always wore with this outfit, admiring them like she always did. These spikes are so sharp, they could go right through my chest! She continued to be in awe of her favorite footwear until she realized the path her mind was taking yet again. More frightened than ever, she dropped the shoes, suddenly disgusted by their appearance. She would wear flats today instead.

Sitting back down on her bed, she began to file a nail that had become broken. She quickly rubbed her nail against the emery board, thankful for whoever came up with the simple invention. This tool is so useful, I could file my skin clean off! She screamed, dropping the nail file on the ground.

She ran to her bathroom, throwing open her medicine cabinet. Rifling through selves, she found the aspirin she was looking for. Taking one without water, she swallowed the pill with little difficulty. If I took more, I wouldn’t have to deal with any of this anymore…I could just…go to sleep…right here…forever…

There was something very wrong. She was not ill. There was no plausible explanation for the way she was thinking. And it hadn’t gone away during the night…she already knew it wasn’t going to go away. She would have to live this way the rest of her life, always avoiding sharp objects, always keeping her thoughts a secret so as to not appear like a freak…

No. No, that was no way to lead a life. That was simply not an option. There was only one way to fix this. She looked back at the bottle of aspirin. She had only just opened it, so it was almost full. She shook the entirety of its contents out onto the counter. She would have to do this fast, or she would lose her nerve. Already feeling dizzy from the shock of her morbid thoughts, she would be passing out soon anyway.

Taking the pills three at a time, she swallowed them all, staggering back to her room after she swallowed the last one. She made it to her bed before she was knocked out, lying on her back. Her vision was getting cloudy; she could barely make out the shape of the fan in the middle of the ceiling, seemingly getting faster and faster as it spun. Trying to follow it only made her head hurt, so she gave up on that. Feeling her consciousness slipping away, she gratefully closed her eyes, finally becoming released from the morbid thoughts that had taken over.