Tears of Scarlet

The knife ran over her skin leaving a thin trail of blood behind. The blade left a stinging sensation as it cut open her skin. Cassie’s arm was covered in small silver scars, barely noticeable to anyone who wasn’t looking for them. She traced over her old scars and made new ones that twisted around her arm like vines.

She avoided cutting her hand. The palm of her hand didn’t scar, but last time Cassie had cut too much. Her hand had hurt so bad that trying to do anything with it was out of the question. Her mother had been suspicious. She wouldn’t let that happen again, so it was her arm this time. Next time maybe it would be her thighs. There was always a next time.

Cassie felt the dull ache in her chest leave for the moment. The more lines she drew, the better she felt. She couldn’t cry. All of the tension stayed inside building, building, and building. This was the only way to make herself feel better. This was her release.

The trail of bright red blood stood vibrant against her pale skin. It made a beautiful picture in a terrible sort of way. Cassie touched the blood, staining her fingertips with it. She was alive. Seeing her blood reminded her of that. Corpses don’t bleed. She needed to bleed to know she was alive. She needed to bleed to keep herself alive.


It had started months ago. She wasn’t happy anymore. There was this constant ache in her chest, in her head. It never seemed to go away and everything made it worse. She never cried. She never talked about it. Everything was locked up inside. Cassie felt numb…almost dead sometimes. Until she had found a way to change all of that.

Cassie had stood in front of the sink washing dishes. The day had been just like the day before and the day before that. She always felt the same and nothing ever changed. Cassie felt like she was floating through each day, not really living…just existing. She had mechanically picked up a glass and started to wash it. It slipped from her soap covered hands and fell back into the dirty water. It shattered. Cassie had reached down to let out the water. A jagged edge from the glass accidentally sliced her hand. The pain was sudden and unexpected. Her hand hurt terribly and in a satisfying way. The physical pain had taken away from the emotional pain.

She took her hand out of the water and looked at it. Blood was running from her wound, down her hand, and dripping into the water. Cassie realized that she felt better as her hand throbbed. And the blood, it made her feel more alive than she had in months. The blood was the brightest thing in her day.

It wasn’t long before cutting had become the solution to her problems. At first, Cassie had cut once every two or three weeks. It didn’t seem like a big deal and it made her feel better. She felt in control until she started cutting more and more frequently. It had gone from every couple of weeks to once a week or more. Cassie had become dependent on her knife.


She carefully began sponging off the blood covering her arm. Her cuts were not very deep so they stopped bleeding almost immediately. Once the blood was gone, Cassie cleaned off her knife. It used to be shiny, but the constant use had made it look dull. After the knife was carefully hidden, Cassie pulled down the sleeve of her shirt covering up her secret.


Keeping her friends close was becoming difficult. Cassie was constantly coming up with excuses for her behavior. The most obvious thing was why she was always in long sleeves. She’d brushed the question off when they asked, but she knew they were getting more suspicious. Cassie had also pushed her boyfriend away in the process. Then it happened. He broke up with her. Obviously the whole thing had been her fault.

That night Cassie took her knife to her skin again. She was seated on the floor of her bathroom in her underwear. The knife was slicing through the flesh on her thigh as she carved her ex-boyfriend’s initials, ADW. Some girls dealt with their emotions by eating a pint of ice cream. Others hooked up with different guys to try and move on. Cassie preferred to bleed. This time she cut deeper than ever before in an effort to make sure this wound would scar. She wanted a big angry scar in the shape of his initials.

Cassie cut until she felt normal again and the blood was running freely down her leg. Usually her cuts stopped bleeding almost immediately. These didn’t look like they would stop soon. She frantically dug through the cabinets and shelves in the bathroom looking for bandages. In one of the cabinets, Cassie found a box full of band-aids. She wiped the blood off her thigh and covered the gashes.


Little things were starting to bother her more and more. They piled up inside of her making a mess of things. Tension escalated inside of her until it filled her chest and her head. It was one of those days. Some days were good. Some were bad and others were unbearable. The unbearable days had her turning to her knife for comfort.

The pressure behind her eyes from unshed tears grew dimmer as soon as the blade pressed its biting kisses along her arm. Cassie’s usual cuts weren’t good enough, so she pressed harder with the knife making the cuts deeper than normal. The pain was intensified and it felt so good. She kept going, cutting up more of her arm. For once, the thought of scars didn’t bother her.

Cassie looked down and felt the rush that always came with seeing her own blood. Her blood was bright and warm running down her arm. At some point her mind realized that this wasn’t the normal trickle of blood before the skin starts healing. The blood looked like it was pouring out of her. A stab of fear cut through her mind. She rushed over to the sink and turned on the water. Cassie stuck her arm underneath and washed away the blood. She’d cut too close to her wrist and the cut was deep. Blood was getting everywhere. It just wouldn’t stop no matter what she tried. Panic seized her and she couldn’t think of what to do. All she could focus on was the amount of blood coming from her body. Cassie bled all the time, but she had never realized people had so much blood inside of them. She sat on the floor of the bathroom holding her arm. ‘I went too far this time…too far,’ she thought.


Cassie opened her eyes and looked around. She felt disoriented. The last thing she remembered was sitting on the floor waiting to die surrounded by blood. The room she was in now was almost completely white. Uncomfortable looking chairs sat off to one side and there was a television mounted on the wall. Flowers were sitting on the table beside her bed. Lilies, she noticed. Cassie hated lilies. She was in the hospital.

Her arm was covered in a white bandage and she was in a short hospital gown. Someone had changed her out of her jeans which meant they saw the scars on her thighs and stomach. The gown had short sleeves and Cassie felt naked. The scars covering her arms were visible to everyone now. She felt sick. Her secret was out. Cassie felt bile rise up in her throat at that thought. She threw off the covers and ran into the bathroom. She lifted the toilet lid and puked violently.

She was just leaving the bathroom when her mom walked into the hospital room. “Cassie…you’re awake!”

“Yeah,” she responded while walking back to the bed. Cassie climbed back in and pulled the covers up around her.

“Why did you do it, Cassie?”

Cassie closed her eyes and tried to find the best way to explain it. But how could she even start explaining to someone who had never felt the lust for blood and the blade of a knife? Maybe if she started with the day she accidentally cut herself washing dishes.

“Is your life that bad that you couldn’t think of any other alternative? Why didn’t you ever come to me? Why…why did you try and kill yourself?” Her mother’s voice grew higher and higher with each question.

That was what they thought? She looked down at the bandage on her arm. It probably had looked like a suicide attempt, though not a very good one. What had they thought the other scars were…previous suicide attempts?

“Mom, look you don’t understand. I wasn’t trying to kill myself. I swear it. The-the blood…everything…it was all just an accident.”

“You don’t need to lie about it anymore, sweetie. We’ll get you help. The hospital suggested a great psychiatrist. Things will get better and maybe you won’t need to try and kill yourself anymore.”

“But, I wasn’t…”

“Why don’t you try and rest now?”

Cassie saw how her mom watched every single movement with concern. It wasn’t as though she’d be brave or stupid enough to attempt suicide in the hospital. She hadn’t even tried to kill herself the first time! Cassie folded her arms across her chest to try and hide the scars from her mom’s eyes.


The days following her release from the hospital were brutal. Cassie wasn’t feeling up to tackling school and the rumors that were going to be whispered behind her back, so she stayed home. Her mom was just succeeding at making her feel worse.

Everything she did was scrutinized. Every word she spoke was dissected, looking for a hidden meaning. Cassie knew her mom thought she was crazy and suicidal. She wasn’t suicidal and she wasn’t crazy. Before modern medicine came along, doctors used to bleed people all the time to heal them. Maybe it didn’t physically help them, but mentally it probably did. Besides, everyone always liked to say time heals all wounds but sometimes they leave scars. She just wore hers on the outside instead of inside.

Her mom had also taken every sharp object in the house and locked it up. Without sharp objects, she couldn’t slit her wrists. Cassie also couldn’t deal with life without sharp objects.

Being constantly watched and worried over began to get to her. There was no way to tell her mom to stop. There was no escape. Cassie did manage to escape into her bedroom. She tore apart her room looking for the one thing that could calm her. Her knife was nowhere to be found. Then she remembered. The last time she’d cut it had been on the floor covered in blood which meant her mother found it. Her knife was locked up with everything else sharp.

Cassie’s fingers began flexing and shaking from the need to have her knife. She was past the point of having any control at all. She began to run her fingernails all over her skin, pressing harder until she broke through. She scratched any skin that was exposed on her body over and over until she was exhausted.

Later she felt disgusted with herself and her loss of control. Cassie couldn’t stand the sight of herself in the mirror. Her body was covered in red marks that ruined any beauty she might have possessed. She looked like she had been attacked by an animal and she had. Cassie saw herself as the animal.

Maybe she was crazy.


© Rachel Ruppel 2006