To be precise, the twenty fourth day of fourth grade marked a gruesome occasion; the first time I had ever carved down to bone.

That's when I snapped. I was already too close to the edge for comfort, but I was now straddling the razor-thin line of sanity and insanity. I did things that night that will forever be seared into my memory. Precisely when I realized I needed help was precisely when I realized how scared--no, terrified-- I was of changing who or what I had become. I was too bust cowering in vain attempts to conceal the monster that I had gradually morphed into.

Adrenaline danced in my veins as I stared, idle, and shocked at the image of a fragile child grinning at me, blood covering her arms, legs and torso. Somehow, though, I was sickly satisfied with this image; was it because I was too hollow to care? Silence filled my room that night, in exception to barely audible weeps, followed by muttering of my own accord.

I knew six things for sure; 1. I had managed to change completely who I was from taht moment to the next.  2. I wasn't Kathleen *** *** anymore.  3.I was too hollow to care about anyone or anything, let alone myself. 4. I liked the blood. 5. I liked this new demon I had become. 6. I loved the demon who crippled and slaughtered my human soul with temptation adn promises of my very own "Happily ever after...", if I only were to hurtle myself over the edge.

If I were to hurtle myself off the edge with nothing and no one, ultimetely, to catch  me before I smasked into the ground, I would be long gone by now. I should be logn gone by now. Though I have made many a suicide attempt, in the end, someone or something always managed to catch me right before I smashed into the rocky bottom, crippling my human soul and body completely, revealing the awaiting, vistorius demon waiting inside.