Excerpt:

Seventeen years had passed by, each year bringing more than its fair share of pain. Sure in the younger years things had been quite well, but after some time had passed thing had grown worse, comments, gestures, taunts, and torments had followed. Gone were the days where loving gestures had been displayed regularly, no more loving words, or any thing relating to kindness. Coldness and emptiness was all that was left. How had it come to this, maybe he should just end it all, maybe that was what needed to be done. Placing the blade slowly against his wrist he pressed it down as hard as he could, watching as the blood slid down. First it came in small drops that barely welled up out of the small cuts, till finally small rivers of coppery redness escaped in thick lines, tainting the perfect paleness of his arm.