Cellar, Cellar Door.

Yummy, yummy, in my tummy. I stroked my wrist with the knife. It kissed me crudely and broke the skin. I felt beautiful. It pulled away and then slashed me again, deeper this time. So deep, I could feel it in my toes.
I bet Edward would love me. Or any of the male Cullens for that matter. My blood flows free for whoever whenever. And if things always taste better than they smell than I must be damn delicious.
I cackled and bobbed my head to the loud techno blasting from the cellar’s boombox I had hidden on my third time down here. The early phases of my nasty addiction.
Too bad no one loves me. Not even the damn blades I use. I used to be careful with them, cleaning and only using particular ones. But each one developed their own flavor, style, and besides, it’s not like stoners only use one type of ‘rock’.
I smiled and stood up, dancing and cutting, letting the crimson river soak into my new white shirt. Everyone told me I looked gorgeous in white; many compliments.
Well, they’ve never seen me in red.

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