I needed blood. Not a lot of it, just a little. I’d run a knife down my finger and licked the drops from it but it wasn’t the same. I was still twitching from the need and now I had a painful cut and a mess on my carpet. I thought of her. I couldn’t ask her to satiate my addiction. Once someone’s left you, the intimacy’s gone. If it had been something meaningless like sex or a kidney, it wouldn’t have mattered. But cutting someone open with a knife was something that you needed to be close for. People don’t tend to let you break out the razor blades if they can’t stand the sight of you. I’d thought about meeting someone new, but that would take time. There’s so many stages you have to go through first, before you even get to the point where you find out she isn’t into it and leaves in disgust. I’d even tried one of those “alternative personals” sites. That had been a waste of time and money. No, I had to think outside the box. I looked down at the body before me. I decided the mourners wouldn’t notice just one more scar.

-Alice

I didn’t know many people there. I stood awkwardly, trying not to catch anyone’s eye, wondering when someone I knew well would arrive. Sure I’d been invited, but only as a second thought. Everyone I knew had conspired to turn up much later and had left me in the lurch. I stood there, feeling like I would be found out at any moment. The host would suddenly realise he didn’t know me quite that well and would ask me to leave. I glanced around the room at the faces I didn’t know. Some of them were quite attractive, but that didn’t really matter, they were all otherwise engaged. They were all having fun, talking to people they actually knew. No one was caring about me, sat there in the corner, on my own. I tried to get into the party mood. I took a sip of my drink, hoping the alcohol would reach my veins quickly and help me to relax. It wasn’t working. I took a longer drink, willing it to make me feel better and for it to perform some kind of reality-warping feat that would make my friends arrive sooner. Nowhere is it more awkward to be alone than in a strip club.

-Alice

I’d been drinking for a while. My head was rocking from side to side as I tried to adjust my balance. It really wasn’t working. The rocking was keeping my head from just falling straight forwards and hitting my desk. If I concentrated hard enough, maybe I could be sober. Or at least more sober than I was. I didn’t feel like it though. Instead I preferred to sit back and feel the alcohol flow through my veins. Infecting and poisoning my body. I liked to imagine it running through my bloodstream. Coating the insides of my veins and trickling down into the capillaries. I was feeling the buzz. The supposed warmth that these toxins bring to our bodily systems. Isn’t it strange how poisoning ourselves feels so good? How this depressant can sometimes be all that cares for us. I pushed my fingers into the top of my desk, steadying myself. I let out some unidentified noise of relaxation. I could vaguely make out my reflection in the polished surface. I wasn’t sure how I looked though. It wasn’t that good a mirror. My reflection was brown-tinged and blurry. It could’ve been anyone, really. It really didn’t do justice to how fucking sexy I am.

-Alice