It was a Thursday evening and it followed another very difficult day.

He couldn't do anything right. He didn't mean to enflame her again. Why  would he? The ice was already cracked enough. Why on God's Earth would he apply even more heat to it?

That would just be dumb.

The disagreement was petty as always and yet again she found a way to escalate what was really a nothing argument into all out war.

Why? He wondered to himself.

The baby was asleep and she was putting the older one down. He was alone and so he went to make supper in the kitchen.

He opened the drawer and pulled out a large kitchen knife, ideal for chopping vegetables. He looked at his wrist and looked at the knife, desperate to feel anything but lost despondency.

His veins were calling him.

He put the knife diagonally across his veins. He had no intention of doing anything. He just wanted to feel something. 

He looked at pressing against his wrist diagonally, and turned the knife 90 degrees so that  the flat of the blade was touching his skin. The risk was absolutely minimal. He was feeling extremely frustrated but no emotion was forthcoming. He was desperate to feel something and so he pushed that little bit harder - something had to be in there. Fear? Elation? Relief?

Something please.

He slowly and carefully pulled it across his wrist, but not to cut but still nothing, an empty can devoid of life.to feel something. 

There was just nonchalant indifference. A lack of care one way or the other.

His mind drifted into how to sever the veins that were calling him, but in such a way as not to traumatise the boys.

That thought saved him from the abyss and snapped him back to reality. He put the blade down. He was still in control, but that THAT edge got just a bit closer.

The mind can be a very dark place my friends. Guard it well. 

Stay safe and well as always my friends.