Damaged

She held the pen tightly within her fingers, gripping it firmly, though the slickness of her palms made her grasp slippery and loose.

With a sharp intake of breath that indulged her greedy lungs and furiously pounding heart, she touched the black ball point to paper, carefully carving letters upon it in a slow, steady manner. The ink marked the once pristine white sheet, bleeding slightly, and she frowned, halting her hand so that she might observe the damage she had brought about – or better yet, inflicted – upon the innocent, oh-so innocent leaf of paper.

Her grip tightened once more for but a single moment, before it grew lax. She then dropped the pen and ripped herself harshly from the desk.

No more.