Too Perfect
He sat, on the couch, blood already dripping from his arm down onto the floor. The drops splashed down onto the wooden floor, joining the larger pool that was already there.
“Too beautiful,” he muttered as the tip of the kitchen knife traced along the S tattooed on the inside of his left arm. The A was already sliced open and had started bleeding heavily after he’d done it.
“Too loving,” he whispered under his breath, and took a deep one in as he felt the sharp blade cutting into the H, causing little drops of blood to trickle down his arm. Too loving, he thought. Too loving.
“Too caring,” he continued and made his way through the L. Cares too much for her own good, he thought. Too caring.
“Too nice,” he breathed. She really was too nice, he thought. She could get along with his mates just fine. Too nice, he muttered and cut along the outlines of the E.
“Too perfect,” he concluded and followed the swirly outline of the Y. Too perfect. He inspected his work, and straightened his back. Too perfect. He slipped down the couch, with the pool of blood in between his legs that he’d pulled up. He put his left arm on his left knee and looked at her name; Ashley. Too perfect. With one swift move, he cut along he wrist, threw the knife down on the floor and waited for what to come.
“Charlie?”