Not everything is as it seems, even at seemingly idyllic Catholic Schools.
He grabbed a towel and headed for the bathroom. Once in there, he picked up his razor. It was the kind that came out of a pencil sharpener. He stripped, looking sadly at his right hip. It was covered in scars, and cuts in all stages of healing. He had run out of space, so some of the cuts had spread up to about his waist and others had drifted down to mid thigh. In his estimation, there were about 300 of them. But it was hard to know, considering the way that they seemed to overlap. Some days, he wondered whether it was better to have one deep one, or ten shallow ones.
Regardless of this, he had some of both, shallow ones from where he just ran at it, and deep ones from where he was pissed enough to dig into his skin. Such a tiny razor could do a lot of damage. He would swear that two of them at the top of his thigh was getting infected, as well as one on his hip. One on his right wrist was looking pretty bad. His watch would easily cover it. If it came down to it, he could lie on his best friend's cat. He had done it in the past. So had she.Nobody was the wiser for it.
Ray shook his head, fro wobbling strangely. It wouldn't do any good to muse over matters that he couldn't control. Yes, he was cutting, but there was nothing he could do about the situation that made him do this. He sighed, and dug the razor into his hip, over some barely healed scars. He was running out of space. Blood welled up in bright red lines, beading here and there. It stung like hell. Ray grabbed a square of toilet paper, and pressed it to the wounds, seeing it turn to dark red blotches on the pure white of the paper. He tossed it in the toilet and flushed it after it stopped bleeding as much. He slipped his razor back into the sharpener case that he kept it in.
No one ever seemed to think to look in there. So that was where he kept it. Then, he turned on the shower, as hot as it would go, and stepped in. He tried to keep from screaming from the combined pains of the boiling water on his skin, and the pain of having the water wash over the fresh cuts. He knew that it would only get worse once he started soaping and scrubbing. All in all, just the start of your average day in hell. Nothing more.
Tell me how this is going? Should I keep this going? R&R, lemme know :) BTW, I own nothing, this never happened.