The blade pressed against her forearm with gentle pressure at first, just testing the resistance of skin against steel, and then harder, deliberately harder. The skin split easily under the sharp edge, parting like paper, a thin line of bright red blood welling up immediately and beginning to run in rivulets down toward her wrist, following the path gravity dictated.
Not deep. Not immediately life-threatening. Just enough to feel something physical to match the emotional pain that was tearing her apart from the inside, to have external evidence of internal devastation that no one could see but everyone should understand.
