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<title>Evercana: Stabbing</title>
<body bgcolor="black">
<font color="white" face="lucida console" size="3"><p>Even Deep Evil Needs Touch-Ups...
<p><u><b>Stabbing</u></b>
<br>My body smacked against the tile flooring, becoming stained with warm red blood. As I flatened out on the linoleum, the blade re-entered. I felt the blade, sterling silver and cold, peirce my warm flesh. I also felt it cut deeper into my tangent body, spilling my inner fluids out onto the unforgiving floor. Yes, I did hurt.
<p>I wanted to scream as loud as I possibly could, letting out every inch of anger and pain, but it came out as a mufffled yawn. The steel blade twisted even deeper, but at least I was numbed. Help me somebody, help me! I yelled that phrase in my demented and hurting head as loud as I could. The blade exited and some footsteps sounded, growing ever so soft.
<p>No, don't leave me, no! To my demise those footsteps grew even softer and further away. I was alone and cold, hurting in a puddle of crimson blood. I briskfully turned my head to the counter, seeing the untouched phone. I reached my arm in the air, causing a wave of pain to travel up it. As I held my hand in the air, I realized something. Should I try to save my damned soul?
<p>Should I come back to this painful reality that I was trying to be rid of? Those confusing questions rammed through my head. What should become of me if I lived in this place? I would be covered in scars, hurting and paralyzed just to sit down and watch all those monsters run about and kill others, like me. And all in all, it was worthless.
<p>I dropped my arm to the icy flooring. The puddle of blood that had gathered beneath me rolled along the edge of my arm, seeming to mock me. That mocking tired me. So tiring. My sight began to vanish, as so did my inpure life. Even though all my life and will-power drained out, I wanted to keep that one last drop. It seemed so significant, but it was not.
<p>The gash on my lower torso began to sting, probably my sweat dripping into the open wound. Crunching and pinching my nerves. My facial cheeks pressed against the cold ground, and it was nice to know I was not the only cold one. Something in the back of my head told me it was going to be alright.
<p>At that moment which held so much sureality, I became extremely weak. And cold, but worse that before. Pain had disappeared and I knew I was not getting back up. No, I was on the ground now, alone. My eyelids became metric tons, as it seemed. I closed them and it did not matter because a ring of black began to progress around my pupil.
<p>Maybe I wanted to pass on. As my body became paralyzed and the glimmering light shining down upon became obsolete, that little voice in the back of my head told me something. It told me where I was going, I could sleep as long as I wanted...
By J. M. Knepper (Ferret)