When the Self-Destructive Snap

Author's Note: Don't judge me by my crazy-ass characters! My room may be all butterflies and rainbows, and I may hate it, but I do not plan to ruin the comforter on my bed with my own blood! Nor do I plan to throw myself out a window any time soon! That is all. Enjoy this random, pointless bit of writing!

I laughed to myself, the knife digging into my palm a little more. I further tightened my grip on the blade and laughed again. It wasn't some insane laughter, either, even though that's what one would expect from some weird chick who was slicing open her own palm. It was simply amused laughter, the normal kind that normal people laughed. You see, my mother was going on about her missing kitchen knife again.

Guess who had that knife.

I gripped the handle with my free hand, my right hand, and roughly yanked the blade out of my other hand's grasp. I laughed yet again, and yes, it sounded a bit crazy this time. I opened my hand and watched with a bemused smile as blood flowed right off of my palm and onto my sky blue comforter. God, I hated that comforter. I hated my whole damned room. It was all butterflies and rainbows. Do I seem like a butterfly and rainbows type of person to you?

Yeah. Didn't think so.

I ran a thumb over the cut on my index finger, my smile turning downright psychotic now. All four of my fingers had been cut by the knife, the wounds just as deep as the one on my palm. I held my hand up and studied the injuries, my head tilting the slightest bit to the right. The tip of my pale blonde ponytail brushed the back of my neck as I tilted my head the other way. My dark blue eyes followed a droplet of blood while it made its way down my arm, standing out sharply against my pale skin. It mingled with a few other drops at the crook of my arm, then continued, flowing smoothly over the edge and down to the bed. There, it stained the blue fabric of that damned blanket, quickly spreading outward from its original collision point to color more of it red.

Fascinating...You know, to someone as mentally unstable as I happened to be.

I turned my attention back to my stolen kitchen knife, the silver of the blade hidden by splashes of crimson. I pulled my knees up to my chest, not caring that anyone who entered the room would be able to see right up my red plaid skirt to my black panties, and placed the knife to my ankle. Instead of paying attention to the pain, I focused on the warm sensation created by blood dripping down my bare foot. Slowly, I brought the blade upward, toward my knee, and my focus went to the pain again. It felt...nice.

I moved the blade away from my flesh once I reached my knee, soon finding myself fascinated by all the blood again. There was so much of it...

I giggled.

My comforter didn't stand a chance!

I ran my fingers along my wound, creating a whole new stinging pain. They were, naturally, blood-red once I pulled them away. Warm and blood-red...

"Elaina!" My mother's shout snapped me out of my glorious trance. My head snapped up, my wide eyes immediately going to the open door. The short blonde woman there looked scared, her blue eyes even wider than mine. She was wearing a clean white apron, but I bet she hadn't found her knife yet...I giggled at the thought. Well, more like cackled, but either way, I sounded like I was out of my freaking mind. "What are you doing?!"

"Oh, no," I managed to get out between my loud, maniacal bursts of laughter. My tone was positively dripping with sarcasm and, dare I say, a bit of utter insanity. Just a bit, though. Nothing a straight-jacket and some medication couldn't rid me of...maybe. "It seems I've been caught! Oh, Roger, what should I do?!" I cried to my knife, holding it up with a bloody hand so I could look at it. "She might punish me if I don't flee!" I paused, as if listening to my knife, and all my mother did was gawk at me. "Why, the window?" I turned my gaze to the window behind me, finding it open. I reached out and easily lifted the screen up as well. "I suppose that would work." I smiled at my bloody blade. "Thanks a bunch, Rog!" I turned my smile to my mother. "Bye bye, Mama!" And with that, I slipped out the open window.

Only then did my mother move, screaming my name as she lunged forward. "Elaina!" But I was already long gone, laying across the wrought iron spikes of the fence surrounding our property with that twisted smile still on my face.

Too bad it no longer reached my eyes.