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Day after day, the dagger looked more and more appealing.
Wasn't it supposed to be the opposite?
Weren't you supposed to start dreading these sort of things after awhile?
But they didn't, in fact, it started feeling refreshing watching the blood leaving their body.
Was this what they were warned about?
Was this what they were told was addiction?
No, of course it couldn't be.
Addiction was for drugs, alcohol, smoking, things like that.
Suicide attempts couldn't possibly be addicting.
They weren't pleasing,
They didn't give a high,
They lacked any upsides,
They were painful,
They were stressful,
They couldn't be addictive.
It didn't count,
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Right?
Two time held their dagger against their skin once again, veins underneath memorized. Their rooms door locked just in case. Chance had been bursting into their room randomly lately, there didn't seem to be a reason for why. It didn't matter though.
A round was suppose to start soon, securing the fact they would live to see another after it. They were healed of whatever wounds they were inflicted with when a round started and when it ended, so they could keep doing this over and over until they finally worked up the courage to do it at a time they wouldn't survive. Hopefully, that would be soon.
The round wouldn't start for another couple of minutes, so they had time to just admire the blood running down their arm. The blood flowed as if even it were embarrassed to be apart of them, and how they wished they could run from their own body with it. It was beautiful in their eyes though, such a deep color contrasting against their abnormally pale skin. No matter how many times they saw it, no matter how many times it hurt, it was still absolutely gorgeous.
They couldn't move their arms at this point, blood loss making their vision fuzzy to add to it. Their head was pounding and their ears kept ringing, yet they knew they were going to do all of this again. The pain felt nicer then they could last remember, and it'd feel even better next time... Was it addiction? If is was, it felt a lot better then they were told it would. But again, it couldn't possibly be such. Of course it wasn't.... They'd need to pray again soon.
Before they could properly process it, they blinked and were sent into a round.
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But they hadn't been healed.
They were still watching the blood spill slowly down their arms. As soon as they were teleported they collapsed to the grass floor, their health percentage already at 20%. Confusion painted their face for a moment, before they just sighed and scooted themself up against a nearby wall.
How odd, this hadn't happened before. They were always healed before rounds started, perhaps the Spectre had gotten bored? How troublesome, they didn't wish to be found in this state by anyone. They were too disoriented to check who the killer was, it didn't matter much. None of the killers really cared what state they found the survivors in.
C00lkidd couldn't see what it was nor would he understand anyway, 1x1x1x1 just didn't care, neither did Noli but he seemed to make an exception for 007n7, both John doe and Guest 666 were too animalistic to process it, and Azure... Well he'd probably just laugh at them or call them pathetic.
And it'd be the truth. They were pathetic.
They were pathetic for sacrificing him.
They were pathetic for being scared.
They were pathetic for still feeling emotion.
They were pathetic for missing him.
They were pathetic for using his hatred for them as an excuse to hate themself.
They were pathetic for continuing to hurt themself despite promising to stop countless times.
They were pathetic for thinking these things.
They were pathetic for knowing these things.
They were pathetic for laying there, bleeding, because they couldn't handle the consequences of their actions.
They were pathetic for not just getting over it.
They were pathetic for punishing themself further then this realm did.
They were pathetic for breaking the mirror in their room.
But they couldn't focus on any of that right now, they needed to hide. The other survivors got worried whenever people died early in the round, and starting off with 20% health that was actively ticking down would definitely set off alarm bells in at least one of their heads. Or maybe it wouldn't and they were just being self-centered again. They needed to pray more for being so selfish. Why were they like this? What was wrong with them?
· · ·
What was wrong with them?... Such a common question they got asked, yet they had never truly sat down to think about it... Well they had nothing better to do now. Might as well.
Their body was wrong. It was far too feminine for their liking, not to even mention how utterly damaged it was. While yes, most of it damages had come from themself, it was still rather annoying. They looked rather frail, an unfortunate side effect of not eating unless absolutely necessary, and it made others underestimate them quite often. While yes, it was amusing watching the shock cross angohers face when they do something that likely shouldn't be possible of someone of their built, it was still rather annoying. (Thankfully they could cover most of these awful things with their robes, but they still needed to be fixed.)
Their face was wrong. Their eyes didn't match, one of which being white as snow while the other being dark as moonless nights. Their lips were constantly chapped and they had no real way of fixing it in this hell, so they often had a split lip. Their face was covered in freckles, and they just didn't particularly like the look on them. (They could never understand why they looked so horrid on them yet so cute on others.) Their eyes were getting increasingly more and more useless as their vision had blurred incredibly so and, quite frankly, it drove them mad.
Their mannerisms were wrong. They had gotten sloppy. The smile on their face was so wide and strained even they could tell it was poorly done fake, and they rarely looked in the mirror. (Considering they had broken the one in their room that was.) They had gotten much worse at backstabbing and stunning the killer, so much so that most rounds they didn't even manage to charge their second life! They had gotten worse at–...
They were so caught up in their thoughts that they didn't even notice the fact someone was approaching them until it was far too late to hide what they had done to themself. They only noticed when said person stepped out of their peripheral vision and into their main line of sight. Oh. Oh they were absolutely done for. It was worse then it being another survivor, it was the killer; and that would've been fine if not for the fact it was apparently Azure this round. They suddenly felt very, very sick.
Azure seemed horrified quite frankly, or maybe that was just them trying to convince themself that he still had an ounce of care left for them. What a ridiculous thought, obviously he didn't. They felt sick.
Who would care for an awful sinner like them?
Who would care for a disgusting being like them?
Who would care for a being that mutilates their own body like them?
Who would care for such an unstable being like them?
Who would care for such a pathetic being like them?
Who would care for traitorous being like them?
Who would care for such a broken being like them?
Who could care for a being like them?
Nobody.
Nobody.
Nobody.
Nobody.
Nobody.
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Nobody.
Yet, Azure crouched down and and looked at them carefully instead of finishing what they started. They didn't want him to look at them like that, like he saw them beyond what they had made themself out to be... Beyond what even the most understanding and caring of the survivors could see. He didn't know them anymore. He knew what they used to be, not what they were now. He loved them before, he didn't love them anymore. Everything they had, everything they knew, it was all past-tense. It would always be past-tense. They felt sick.
A couple of Azures vines slinked down, each wrapping around one of their bleeding wrists. They flinched, feeling the tentacle-like appendages squeeze. Wincing, they looked Azure in his void eyes. Their stomach turned at how worried he looked. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. It couldn't be worry. He hated them. He had to. They couldn't hate something he didn't, he needed to hate them so they could hate themself. They felt sick.
"... Don't do this to m- us, please." Azure tilted his head, the action only proving to make their stomach churn further. His hands moved, sign language. They recognized it, they used it often before being forsaken. They didn't bother using it much now, no one bothered talking to them anyway, no need for it. They felt sick.
"Don't.. do.. what?" It was a little slow, they could only assume he hadn't used it rather often lately either. They could understand, although a little rusty. They looked at him, and prayed he would take all of this back and go back to hurting them. They felt sick.
They didn't deserve this gentleness.
They didn't deserve his worried eyes.
They didn't deserve his odd care.
They didn't deserve him.
They didn't want him to be gentle.
They didn't want him to be worried.
They didn't want him to give them his odd care.
But they would always want him.
"Don't... Don't pretend to care.." Azures eyebrows furrowed in that way they did whenever he couldn't understand why they were saying what they were saying. He didn't know them anymore, but they would always know him. No matter what form he took. His eyes gave it away. But they could only hope and pray he didn't still care about them. They had murdered him, no matter the reasoning. He shouldn't look at them the way he did. They felt sick.
"Pretend?" His hands moved and they could only wish he had forgotten sign language as well. It would've been better for him to just leave them to bleed out. It wasn't like they would've truly died anyway. Death doesn't matter in this realm. They just needed to die a few more times and then they can finally truly die. Their eyes watered, and their already blurry vision blurred further. They felt sick.
"Please, Azure... Just go back to hating us." Azures hands didn't go to respond, instead he held their face gently. Tears slipped down as shame crept it's claws back around their ribs. He wiped them away with a sharpened finger. His expression felt so real, it made them feel so much worse. They needed him to hate them. They can't handle him caring. They felt sick.
He inched a little closer, before he pressed a cold kiss onto their forehead, then their nose, and lastly their lips. Instinct took over, and they closed their eyes. His mouth was zipped shut, so the kiss was almost as cold as they constantly were. They hated every second of it, not because they didn't want it, but because they had been oh so desperately yearning for it. They felt dizzy.
Their only reason for keeping going was just to stay until he forgave them, and if there was nothing more to stay for, they had no reason not to end it once and for all.
Oh poor Azure, he had no idea what he had truly done.
Azure pulled away, a loving yet saddened look on his face. They felt bad for using their belief he hated them to hate themself, but if he didn't hate them... They had no reason to hate themself, and they needed a reason.
If they had no reason, their hatred didn't count.
If their hatred didn't count, they needed to make it count...
Or get rid of the thing they hated once and for all. ꥟