Part Two – I’m All Cut Up
Whenever I’d get to cuttin’, I sometimes noticed that there would be another feelin’ lingerin’ deep within. I couldn’t ever quite put my finger on it. It seemed like an impulse…another kind of urge. Some thirst I couldn’t quite sate. Times were getting’ pretty bad for dear old Bob…
He reached for a jagged piece of glass and proceeded to start making slits in his face. Blood poured through the precise cuts and dripped onto the concrete. People stared on, bewildered, shocked, in awe of the man who had moments ago put his fist and head through the shop front window, and was now carving his own face.
The man, known as Bob looked around. Wildly grinning through his blood soaked gaze at the busy street that came to a standstill. He hadn’t quite had a feeling like this…ever. It gave him a rush. There was something else, though. Something deep within told him to turn that glass shard on the people. He had always been at war with himself, but this time…this time, it was worse than anything he could remember.
A blue-uniformed police officer ran up to the crowd, with his weapon drawn. “Sir, I need you to put down the weapon!”
Bob began laughing at the officer hysterically. He then proceeded to cut off the rest of his face and held it up before the crowd. The officer began to start advancing more towards the man, as did others, hoping to be heroes in another’s eye. Hastily, the man slit his wrists and his throat; attempting to chew and swallow the broken shards of glass.
There the man laid on the sidewalk, decrepit, bloody, and broken. The urge to kill others had passed. Sated only by taking his own life.
After that, I woke up in my bed. However, the scars were still visible…to me anyway. I had started to become worried with what was happenin’—to me. What was I becomin’?