“I Can’t Stop” (A New Story I’m Writing)

“I can feel my teeth grinding into this newly painted nail. It’s about to get ugly, but I can’t stop. It’s sawing now, from one side to the other, ripping away at the nail furiously, mercilessly. I can’t stop. The hurt, the pain, the loneliness, the frustration….The blood’s pooling on the sides of my nail now, gushing, dripping…The stinging comes on, full force and sharply, as if a blade had been brought upon my bare skin. I can’t stop, I can’t. My head, it’s pounding now with the anticipation of another verbal blow, another shot of venom into my heart. On to the next finger. I can’t stop. How long? How many fingers do I have left, 9….almost 8? Are we done? No, we’re not done. Another shot fired in my direction, too pained to duck. Right into the chest, I can feel it. The second nail comes off immediately, pooling….I can’t stop……….”

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