He pressed down and pulled the blade up and across, using the ledge of the bathtub for support. This time, he had a scalpel. This time, he would not fail. A message buzzed from his wrist to his brain, telling himself that he hit a tendon. With curiosity, he forced his head around to look at the point of injury. The red rose in a beautiful bouquet around his wrist. He didn’t care that he couldn’t slice the other one. The water was full to the rim, and he slid into the inviting warm womb.