【自留】Fallen From Grace by V(4)

I rest my elbows on the windowsill, and rest my head on the backs of my hands, looking around at the other tiny, single-floor houses, made of the same white stone brick that seems almost to be decaying every day. The roads that have more potholes than not, the infrequent, muddy grass. I tear my eyes away from my surroundings and hold them on the flowers. I hold there for what seems like hours, as the flowers hold fast against the rain. Eventually, I lean back, as the sky becomes too dark to make the outside out. I take of my green and yellow striped jumper and my brown trousers, leaving just my undershirt and shorts. I pull the white, stained sheet up and press it to my chest, tightening it over my body ridden in goose bumps, as I curl up, pressing my knees against my forehead. My eyes close. I reach behind me, burying my hand beneath the mattress. I feel the coarse, calico-wrapped handle, before I feel my way upwards, and feel the deadly sharp, steel, blade. Someday, I tell myself.