II. On the Edge pg. 28
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She leaned forward against the blade and tried to reason with herself. She’d felt this before- more than this, even. She’d lived through it, she’d live through this. It wouldn’t hurt. She had to be strong if she was going to make things right.

Just take the knife and-

A sharp, localized pain seized her. She felt heat rise to the surface of her skin. Looking down, Phoebe saw that she’d driven the blade straight into her body.

Image: A close-up of Phoebe stabbing herself. She is visible from her shoulders to her hips, and facing ¾ to the left. One of her hands is holding the knife, which is stuck half-way into her scar. Blood trickles over the blade, dripping down from it, and pools around the wound. It runs down the rest of her scar and begins to soak into her skirt. End description.

At first there was only cool awe. Then adrenaline--oddly familiar--began to pound through her. Phoebe’s heart was about to beat up her throat. She tried to carve downwards but it was to no avail. The knife was tucked between her stomach and liver, and her hands were no longer able to put any force behind it, even though they were gripping it so hard that her knuckles had turned white. She tugged it out with a whimper, a gush of blood following suit. Sitting still, she had to think of a plan B now.

But then something else followed the knife. It was long, tapered, and bone-white.

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