Cut, cut, cut. He's gone for a week now, maybe more. So, this should be easy as hell to hide. Let's see. I need to get something sharper, this razor's just making me angry. Cut over scars, scars over cuts. Oh! There goes the blood. Drip, drip, drip. Only four for now. Don't want too much blood; I don't have any tissues. Let's get high tomorrow. I love escaping all this pain. Sounds good? Deal.
Hmmm, the song just said "let's jump out a window". That sounds like a wonderful idea, doesn't it?
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