In a sterile, white room that might almost be mistaken for a medical lab if not for the bedroom furniture occupying it, a young woman stares intently at the surgically sharp knife lying on her bed. Trembling hands reach for it, like an addict fighting the urge to grasp her glass pipe, but the cool tip gives a rush like any drug. Sweat beads on her smooth skin as she caresses the weapon like her lover. Her heart pounds in her chest like a hammer, but little else matters besides the glinting steel and her exposed wrist. She's not suicidal, but anyone who sees the scars would think otherwise. This is a tale that could be happening in any home around the world. Young, old, rich, poor, popular, or loner, this is a growing plague that, to date, still has no cure. The best one can hope for is to sate The Craving.
评价“The Craving”