This is a continuation of the ultra short story I made on the USS thread. I like the concept very much, but at the end, this took many months to finish. Enjoy, and do leave comments of any kind!

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I lied in the bathtub. My feet rested on the head rest, my camera sitting next to it. The tap dripped hot water onto my face, its wisps of steam condensing on my boxcutter's fine blade. "Bye, world."

I grasped my neck and felt my pulse. Two arteries, two cuts. It hurt, but I didn't care anymore. The hot water washed the blood away, carrying my life within.

I felt my body cooling. 

I embraced death's lethargy.

... Then I felt no more flowing blood.

I rose from the bathtub, my fingers inside the open slits on my neck. "What the...?"

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I grasped at the slits on my neck, dribbling lukewarm water to my bare chest. Not blood, water. I had drained my blood down the drain, yet I was still here, looking at my deathly pale reflection on the bathroom mirror. Mirrors don’t lie, yet I was here, alive. I managed a whisper, “Why...?”

They say that if you die in your dream, you will wake up on the higher level, usually real life. But I couldn’t die.... The cuts hurt, but the pain had dulled a bit. But it still hurt like hell, and they also said that you don’t feel pain in your dreams. I didn’t know who to believe anymore, not even myself.

I sat on the wooden dresser, the boxcutter on my hand. The blood.... My blood on the cutter had dried to flakes, which I promptly peeled and dusted it off my bare thighs. A faint metallic tang reached my nose, one too familiar now.

I turned toward the mirror behind me and eyed the slits. I had tried to pull the skin together before, but there was no blood to glue them so they just flapped limply like dead meat, closing on itself. I touched a finger, trying to feel the insides of my neck. Reaching the artery required me to cut through a layer of muscles first, and it had felt a little different since I cut it. The interior of the arteries felt smooth to the touch. I stuck a finger in the gap and waited for some other sensations, but none came. Rubbing around, my fingers felt the skin shifting from the inside. I pinched the folding skin and slipped my nail between the layers, then pressed my fingers deeper into the open fold. My fingers met each other in front of my throat, pressed tight against the taut skin.

I toyed with the flap of skin. Aside from the weird floating feeling, it felt like slick, rubbery leather, almost artificial. The Adam’s apple below it was more like dried glue, sticky yet slippery. I rubbed the cartilage, wondering whether I’m curious enough to open it and see what’s inside. After cutting the flap of skin loose, I tapped at my throat with my cutter. There was no significant sensation, so I tapped harder and harder. The cartilage suddenly gave way, leaving the cutter blade embedded inside my throat. Had I not lost all my blood, I would have choked, but all I did was stare at the hyperventilating reflection on the mirror. I poked at the lodged cutter before pulling it out, and whistles came out of the hole as I breathed. My finger slipped inside and was met by the vocal chord. Curious, I tried to speak, but the vocal chord was blocked by my finger. The bizarre sensation of the clenching chord drove a shiver of pleasure inside me. I used to wondered whether throatfucking was actually pleasurable, but now I didn't. My finger went deeper, the full length of it now inside my throat. I probed around, holding back the reflex to cough.

The sound of trickling water caught my attention. I peeked inside the bathroom, finger still inside neck, and found the bathtub overflowing with hot water. I took out my hand and waved at the wisps of steam. Taking the camera and the cutter, I went inside and set the camera up for another round of recording.

I took my place back in the tub. My head throbbed with anticipation of what was going to happen. Relaxing myself, I took a shallow breath, each shallower than the last until I finally stopped breathing. I kept my breath in as long as I can, which turned out to be as long as I want. The familiar burn on my lungs didn’t feel as urgent as it was before.

I stayed in my position for a few minutes, bobbing my hands on the surface while I held my breath. A few minutes later, I decided that I had procrastinated enough from doing whatever I wanted to do now. I exhaled, pinched my nose, and noticed a tickle on my throat. I cupped the slit with my hand, remembering that air can get through it. So what’s the point of me holding my breath? Grumble.

With the cut taped, I could now properly hold my breath. I lied in the bathtub, exhaled as much as I can, then, with my hands gripping the edge of the tub, submerged myself. Under the surface, I sucked all the water I could into my lungs, prompting my reflex to choke. My hands twitched, but I forced myself down. Air bubbled out of my mouth and nose, pushed out by the pressure of water. Soon after, the last bubbles of air left me, leaving me only water to breathe.

My chest felt heavier with every breath I tried to take. Numbness enveloped my body. My mind cleared itself from the intrusive thoughts I had since God knows when. I finally had some peace of mind, at last.

Then I felt.

My heart.

Beating.

No. No. Why couldn’t the world spare me some silence? This must stop!

I could stop it.

Grabbing my cutter, I stabbed at my chest and felt my chestbone dent under the blade. A pang of pain flushed through me, but that was it. I continued by dragging the blade down. As the blade sank inside my stomach, nausea and some other numbed feelings filled my chest. The sight of something rising from my stomach stopped me. Intestines? I reached for it, but it slipped away.

Then the smell hit me. It smelled like stale fat, only so strong it felt like it rubbed itself into the inside of my nose. The taste didn't help, either. Even with my numbed senses, I could feel the acrid bile and the bittersweet taste of digestion.

I shook my head, focusing on what I must do. My heart beat merrily, unknowing of what was to come. I rummaged inside myself, but the rest of the useless organs resisted me and my cutter, annoying me even further. I put the cutter and start pulling at the organs, but they were harder to pull out that I thought. Locating the connective tissue of each blob, I sliced at them with my fingers. They did not cooperate.

Frustrated, I took my cutter and bit it, trying to snap off a small piece of the blade. I jerked the cutter, snapping the blade, but the rest of the blade raked along my face, cutting deep into my nose and almost clipping my left eye. I discarded the cutter and rook hold of the small piece of the blade, then went inside then continued cutting out the organs, leaving out the digestive organs because I didn't want more intrusive smells and God knows what else inside my stomach floating around the bathtub. During the process, I bumped my hand to my spine, sending a shiver of pleasure along it.

Finishing the last cut, I began pulling the loose organs one by one. I clearly recognized the spleen, a lump of liverlike tissue. I dumped it on the bathtub floor. The liver proved too big to take out, so I widened the cut on my abdomen down to my pelvis, taking care not to let the blade slice into any more intestine. More intestine slipped out from me and floated, now looking like a grotesque curtain that blocked my legs from sight. I pulled out the liver and pushed the rest aside.

Tracing the main blood vessels into the thorax, I bumped into my diaphraghm, knocking the nonexistent wind out of me. My faint heartbeat made itself known through the muscly membrane. I placed the blade and started cutting upwards, stopping just below the sternum. The deflating lungs sucked more water inside the ribcage, somehow making me feel more bloated and weak.

I grabbed my heart. The resistance of my hand on my heart was crystal clear in my mind. Pulses of lethargy filled my mind as my heart throb. I liked it. Maneuvering my fingers to the top of my heart, I slowly sliced my heart free from myself. My body spasmed and convulsed as I cut the blood vessels, reflex struggling for the last time.

At last, I had no more distraction. I held my heart, still tough and unyielding. Now it's just the warm water, the numbness, and my emptying thoughts. Felt so good to have some peace of mind...