Slice

The blade reflected the light and cast its beam on the back of the stall door. Rebeccca Worthing stared at it, her knees pulled up to her chest, feet resting on the seat of the toilet upon which she was perched. The way, nobody would see her should they look under the door.

"They will come looking for you." She told herself, sniffling, fighting back the tears.

"I know." She whispered to herself as she turned the blade of the scalpel -one that she had stolen from the science lab - in her left hand.

Her right sleeve was rolled up to the elbow, her bare arm exposed to the world, revealing the hidden pathways that life had forced her to carve into her flesh; learning curves and experiences that she would remember forever.

The tears came now as she heard a group of girls enter the school bathroom, laughing and giggling.

"They're laughing about you, you now that" The voice in her mind spoke up again.

Rebecca felt the tears sting her eyes, felt them roll down her face, her skin so cold, tears so warm. Her hands were shaking. She bit her lip to keep herself quite but it would stop. The voice in her head began to laugh. It laughed in keeping with the girls' giggles.

"I just cannot believe how stupid you are......(it laughed at her.) I mean, look at yourself, you're too fat to wear anything less than a sweatshirt and tracksuit trousers" ....(it goaded her) before it fell away into a fit of hysterics that soon morphed itself into a maniacal cackle.

"Stop it." Rebecca pleaded, speaking through clenched teeth.

It didn't stop, but rather continued to laugh at her. Echoing her own plea back to her. "Stop it.....stop it......stopit......stopitstopitstopit"

She sliced her arm from the elbow towards her write, the skin peeling apart like an over ripened banana, and then there was the pause before the blood came. It was that moment that Rebecca enjoyed the most in a way. It was the part that hurt, but it was the instant that the silence came, the beginning of the rush. She smiled to herself and watched the two inch long red line appear. She closed her eyes and laid her head back against the tiled wall of the bathroom stall. When she opened them again she had cut herself another two times, her entire forearm was red. It was a bright vivid colour, especially against her pale, almost white skin, and yet the puddle which was growing on the floor looked almost black.

"Did that really help?" The voice asked, returning already. Only this time it wasn't mocking, but questioning,. "Why stop here, make it better and cut something else. If you cut them, well... then they will be gone. You can be happy again." Its words hung in her ears, echoed around her mind as if they had been shouted from within a cave.

Unlike a normal echo, which faded away with each rebound it made, this one grew louder.

"No" She said.

"Um...hello, is someone there?" A girl asked. The group was still there. Their laughter had stopped but Rebecca could hear them.

"They've found you. Go on, teach them a lesson. Cut them all." It whispered to her. Her entire body erupted with gooseflesh.

"No, I won't." She said to herself, louder this time. More conviction in her voice. Yet she rose none the less.

"Hello, are you ok in there?" The girl asked again. It was an older voice, a senior no doubt.

"See, itis not them." She spoke aloud this time, not trying to hide herself any longer. She reached for the lock and began to open the door.

"It doesn't matter who they are. Just cut them all." The voice cackled once again. It was like a witches laugh as they stand over their smoking cauldron.

Rebecca came out of the stall smiling, her eyes wide, her mouth wide open, lips curling up in the corners, her right arm bled profusely, and in her left she waved the blade.

"Cut you all" She screamed and lunged clumsily at the group of four seniors, who to their own credit reacted rather than just stared. They ran screaming from the bathroom causing everybody in the hallway to stop, turn and stare.

When the headmaster walked into the girls bathroom, he didn't know what to expect and was prepared for the worst. What he actually found was Rebecca curled up under the row of three sinks, her knees pulled up to her chest, her face white with shock and blood loss. She was sucking her blood covered thumb and rocking slowly. She stared into space, not blinking, not responding to his words or those of the paramedics who loaded her into the ambulance. When she got to hospital it took three male nurses to open her hand and remove the scalpel from her iron like grip.