The blood oozed and gushed out fast like from a cut-open pipe. It constantly trickled down from her wrist down to her arm, and then dropped continuously on the rug. Plop, plop, plop.... Nadia watched in silence. She felt dissociated. The pain was there, eating at her veins which were cut off in her wrist, but she felt a sudden numbness because she didn't care about the pain. In fact, Nadia wanted it to hurt so much. She wanted to feel the pain, and every drop of her blood that was slowly turning the rug crimson, Nadia felt a profound sense of relieve, rather than pain and agony. At first, Nadia only watched her blood spilling out of her every half a second, her heart slowly racing a little as she just sat there almost motionless. She didn't want to think of the pain or harm at that moment. All she cared about was that she wouldn't be able to be in Anatoly's bedroom tonight and probably in the next couple of nights. Nadia would have never imagined that she would be inflicting self
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