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Too deep, carved by
something critically
sharp. A ring? Closer
inspection makes
me slightly queasy.
This will leave a scar.
Soap. Water, hot as
I can stand it. Pain
can be a good thing.
Sometimes it means
killing germs, and if this
gets infected … well,
I’m not sure exactly what,
but I’m positive I don’t want
that to happen. The bleeding
slows, but the wound puffs up.
The girl in the mirror
looks like a total freak,
with one side of her face
swollen. Ugly. Deformed.
She starts to cry. Shit!
No fair. No fucking
fair. It wasn’t even
any of my business
what Erica did. Was it?
And what if Ashante
won’t tell what she did?
Who will take the fall?
Erica? Or me? If I tell,
will they believe me?
