I have a memory of something that never happened.
Blood splattered on tile and someone, anyone, crying, kneeling in it.
Me, behind them, arms around the shoulders, shifting razors away slowly so that they won't notice.
Bandaging them up. Telling them it's going to be okay.
And I've had this memory for as long as I can remember.
And it's never happened.
Maybe I dreamed it once. Maybe I have heared one too many suicide threats that my mind built a memory out of the fear they brought.
Maybe I just need to save you.
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