Sheets of paper piled high, lists of methods, and polaroids of self-inflicted scars. A blue dress lies in a dark pool, in a darker room, and my temples throb like the corners infested with shadow. The cut feels good as it grows, parting skin to reveal something truer, and the pain is a bitter medicine of redemption. The wavering light-bulb finally fades out completely and I sink into the mattress with a sigh of relief.

(oneword)