It's alot longer than I intended. Originally.
But I started getting into it; the pain turned to pleasure and I wanted more. So the angry pink line turned into a violent red gash. My arm shouted to stop, but my brain urged me to keep going. So back and forth went my hand, up and down my arm, making the red mark grow bigger; longer, deeper. All my earlier thoughts of pain, leaving my friends, getting kicked out, left my mind as the pain took over. A drop of blood fell onto my leg, but i kept going. Don't stop. Give me more.
It was like my hand was having some forbidden love affiar with my arm. But then my dad's bedroom door opened and I had to stop. I quickly wiped the blood from my arm with my sheet and pulled down my sleeve.
"Hey kid." Dad popped his head in my door.
"Hey dad." I smiled.