I didn't answer. I rest my hands beside me not trying to communicate.

I don't know why I'm doing this. The wounds you've caused feels different from the wounds inflicted by me. Slicing myself is different from bruising my body.

I saw how frustrated your eyes are. Without a thought, you pushed me away like I'm contaminated by a contagious disease. You then ran away.

I wanted to stop you but I can't. My arm hit the lockers. My wounds have been opened. The blood is now gushing quickly. They have found their way out. I wish I could too.