I love writing.
There. I said it.
My posts may have been a bit mopey lately (thanks to some loyal readers for helping me see the trend), and I want to point the finger squarely at my MCs in Borrowed Saints. See, Phoebe's alienated herself from her only friend at a new school...and she's started cutting again. (It's the only to stop the voices, okay?) Tucker is being "taken over" and he doesn't know it, but boy does it make him a grumpy bastard. I had another 3K Tuesday, but felt down and depressed at the end of the evening.
Stupid teenage protags!
(I love you guys.)
I've always been weirdly hypersensitive to things like this...in my senior play, I was a suicidal character. Even though the show was a farce (I know, suicide and comedy=not so funny, right?), I felt soooooo depressed that semester. When I read House of Leaves, I developed the worst case of existential angst. (Anyone who has read the book knows why).
So yeah. Teenage angst and all. Have I mentioned that Phoebe is my favorite character in Borrowed Saints? We always hurt the ones we love...
Just a little cut, the voice said. Just a little tiny bit of pain.
Phoebe nodded. The hateful image in the mirror smiled. Good, it said.
The blade was cold in her fingers, and had it not been for the dark bloom in the mirror, she wouldn’t have known the razor pierced her skin at all. She pushed harder.
The image in the mirror smiled.
A door slammed below. Phoebe felt the impact jar through her body. She looked down at the red streaks on her forearm. Pretty red ribbons.
“Phoebe?” EG’s voice came from another planet, far away.
She ran the blade under the tap, rinsing away the blood. It slid neatly under the towels in the bottom drawer of the cabinet. It would wait for when she needed it again.
Word count total = 24,450. Whoot!