“Take it.” Say the whispers in my mind

“No.” I say to myself.

“Why?”

“I don’t want to hurt myself.”

“It won’t hurt. Just take it and cut.”

“Really? It won’t hurt? Are you sure?” I ask talking to the air.

“We’re sure. trust us. it will heal eventually..”

“I’m not sure.”

“Do it.” The voices hissed.

I then took the knife and sliced a shallow cut on my arm in the middle. The pain came at me like a tsunami descending on a town. And I liked it.

“You told me it wouldn’t hurt!” I said whimpering. Hand on wound with a paper towel, trying to not bleed out.

“Why did you believe us?” They said almost laughing at me.

“I don’t know anymore.” I said still patching up my arm. “I should really not listen to you.”

“But will you?”

“Yes, probably.”

(Not my best work at all, but I just wrote what came to mind; I guess. Don’t listen to those voices. They are made of the devil himself.)