My Cowardice

This is a story that I have 'published' on facebook but I constantly work and rework it all the time, its part of my forthcoming collection 'The Melon Mile' so I look forward to what you think about this-Have a great week!

Blood is dripping on the floor and I feel relieved, for once, I'm feeling something so different from pain, it is relief and anguish rolled together. It is so strange but I am comfortable. I feel in control. I had gone to see my doctor again, after dieting hard for about 2 weeks, I could feel my clothes hanging off me. Surely, I would fit the bill and finally be on the road to getting rid of them.

He told me to get on the scales and then, he looked at me. For the first time, I saw my doctor look at me with something different from detachment. He looked sad and I shook my head indicating 'no'. "I'm sorry love", he said "but you are still a few points off the ideal, actually just a point." 'A point!' I wailed, 'do you know how long it got me to this?' "I know love but…" I jumped up 'don't call me love! I want to be rid of this, every time I come you have a reason not to put me on the list; I'm starting to think you're enjoying this'. "Ah now, don't say that, I honestly feel your situation but I must follow the rules, left to me you are well over due" 'Then tell them your opinion, tell them I'm running mad with the wait, tell them now and I promise I'll lose the point before next week.'

I was desperate now and tears and snot were running down my face, but I couldn't be embarrassed, this man knew my body better than some lovers I've had, so there was nothing to hide. "You see, I would love to do that, but the rules won't allow me. I really think we need to work out a strategy because I won't want you to get drastic with losing the weight…" As soon as the words dropped from his lips, I knew it was a waste of time, so I picked my bag and walked out leaving him with his words. They held no meaning to me anymore, the nurse tried to stop me but I just walked out.

I got home and started cooking, I made a greasy sauce and poured it over pasta, grated a thick layer of cheese and I ate. I pushed everything through my collapsed stomach and felt it stretch but I pushed in more, I am dying, slowly and its starting to feel good. I'm standing by the kitchen sink not bothering to sit as I push the food into my mouth. I see my large knife and I grab it and pull off my shirt, rip off my underwear and quickly slash, the pain pierces my head and my hand starts to shake, I try to slash again but my boldness has deserted me.

I'm crying now as my tears fall on my chest and sting me. I so want to cut them off but I'm a coward and the pain unhands me, so I slide to the floor, watching the blood rise and seep, rise and seep. I bleed easily but I know it's not deep, I cry because at this point I want to die; yet, I am a coward because I want to live. I pick up my shirt and hold it to the wound,crawl to my bag as it lies on my bed, my hands shake as I drop the shirt and ruffle through the bag to get my phone. I pick up it up and call, 'come, I've cut myself'

Looking forward to your responses!