Zebras have feelings, too

This is a short-story, which won a class contest. It has a surprise element, so I won't write that much about it. Just read it, if you're interested in the mind. Feedback is lovely :)

Dette er en novelle, som vandt en klassekonkurrence. Den har et overraskelseselement, så jeg vil ikke skrive så meget om den. Læs den, hvis du er interesseret i sindet, og giv gerne feedback :)


1. Zebras have feelings, too.

Zebras have feelings, too.

There she stood, with  bloody  zebra lines on her left arm and a knife in her right hand. You would think that it’d hurt – but her cheeks were dry. She looked at her arm, spread her lips lightly and just stood there. Looking, investigating.  

»Becca…« I said, silently.

I expected her to be surprised – to flinch and try to cover her zebra-lines – but she didn’t. She slowly raised her head and looked at me. She still held the knife with her right hand, firmly.


»See? I did this for you. You did this«

»Becca, please, I want you as much as you want me«

The blood-red curtains flapped behind her. A vibration-hum, indicating that there was a notification from Messenger, could be heard from her right trouser pocket. She ignored it.


»But it’s your fault. Why did you do it?«

»Becca please, put the knife down«

»Why?« she said. She placed the knife on a bare piece of skin on her left arm. »These marks are the only things that relief the pain of missing you« she said, as she made another zebra-line on her left arm. Red, thick fluid flowed from her arm.


»Why did you leave us, dad? Why did you kill yourself? Why do I have to live with this asshole of a step-father? Why?«

»I didn’t leave you, Becca. I’m still here. I’ll always be here«


Footsteps. The noise from heavy footsteps rose and rose.


»But I don’t want to you to be here, dad. I want to be with you«


The noise of footsteps stopped. Becca placed the knife by her throat, ready to make the final zebra-line.


»Rebecca!« her step-father shouted. »I’ve called you three times now, dinner is served!«


The door opened. Becca walked out of her room, wearing a long-sleeved, tight shirt. No one wanted to see her zebra-lines.


Her cheeks were no longer dry.

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