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It's not fair, is it?
The second you feel it, it practically stabs you right in your heart with its blade.
But it stays there, unmoving and still.
The aching pain in your heart never stopping its misery.
But it wasn't the same stab he committed to.
It wasn't a physical pain.
It was an emotional one. Stuck deep in him since time stopped counting itself.
It was about Chance.
Only for him.
Only he felt it.
Until it stops hurting him.
Until he finally felt free from it.
Until their finally gone— From the back of his mind.
He'll finally stop missing him...
Ohh Dear Chance. How much he misses you.
How much ITrapped missed you.
The regret stuck with him. As much as Chance missed him too. As much as Chance had ITrapped stuck in his mind... since that day. Since the day they parted— cut ways in a way more gruesome and quick than death itself could catch Chances bleeding corpse.
From that day on, after Chance had finally been gone, ITrapped felt... bitter.
He had everything now.
Their Casino.
Their Home.
Their riches and everything else they had owned in that miserable home.
Even Chance's beloved pet— Spade, their bunny.
But ITrapped didn't understand it.
Why
Why?
Why did he feel so unsatisfied with himself?
He had done what he always planned to do.
Kill Chance and grab everything they had, even steal the key to the Banlands...
Yet, after having been forced to tell Chances parents about their "disappearance"...
He felt so guilty when he saw their reactions.
Their tears streaming down the parents faces,
Their expression scrunched up in absolute horror,
Their cries and screams weren't left unheard.
ITrappeds hands curled up into fists at his sides, the crown on his felt heavier sitting on his head— as if crushing him to admit it. Admit the TRUTH.
" TELL THEM.
TELL THEM YOU DID IT.
YOU KILLED CHANCE.
YOU DID IT.
IT'S YOUR FAULT THEY DIED. "
Yet, he promised the parents he'd take care of everything.
Then he went quiet. Immediately left the situation.
. . .
And that's what he could remember last time on that day.
Now here he was, inside of Chance's home.
Currently, dressed all nicely he seemed to be.
A simple blue vest over his usual white button-up with the rolled up sleeves and his green trousers. No shoes, just some simple pair of white socks that were slightly dirtied in a red shade.
The cold winter made him feel miserable, his favorite ice crown glinting in the lights of the lamps hanging from the ceiling.
The snow was there already, Christmas wasn't worth celebrating for ITrapped as he had busied himself rather taking care of the usual inside their house:
- Clean the House
- Buy groceries every week
- Visit Chances Parents monthly
- Watch over the Casino
- Take Care of Spade
That was all the chores he had thought of Chance would do if they were still... alive. But he quickly shook his head as he tried to forget that thought again.
Of course it wasn't even Christmas anymore, but new years eve. Why else would there snow? The snow never came on time.
The snow never wanted to fall down gentle onto the world.
It had always came in like a storm— aggressive and dangerous.
Which is why ITrapped never dared to go outside after that. He didn't even count the days when he was supposed to go visit their Parents or check the Casinos state.
He was busy. With what? His embarrassing thoughts of missing Chance? Ashamed he should feel.
ITrapped sighed as he just wanted a break for now. He didn't care about the time. He looked at only for a second, the numbers " 11 : 21 " showed up on the clock. Well, it was going to be night. Soon, a new year would start.
For ITrapped, it would be just another day.
He opened up the door to Chances bedroom, immediately greeted by the sight of the dark bunny on the bed. Loafing calmly.
It almost felt... soothing. But it truly wasn't.
ITrapped walked over to the bed, ignoring Spade on the sheets as he only had one thing on his mind for now.
His hands went to the bedside drawer, a framed picture of Chance & ITrapped hugging together stood there. He stared at it.
He stared at it as if it was his first time seeing this picture. ITrapped looked atleast handsome in there, his blonde hair flowing down his body... the several ice shards he uses to have were sticking out all over him though. It was nice remembering how Chance loved taking care of ITrapped's body... mostly having to take out all the frozen shards from him, make sure he stays warm...
The night's he spent with them back then...
Their body on his... the heat felt intense, his legs all over them with his eyes never endlessly glaring into theirs as the pressure increased more and more inside him..
He felt disgusting remembering those nasty nights under the sheets with them. Seeing how truly they were with him. Seeing how Chance was so happy, believing ITrapped liked him back for fucking onc—
A sudden noise rather cut off ITrapped's spaced out state. Spade had awoken by now. The framed picture was now laying on the floor next to ITrappeds feet. Spade had perhaps pushed it down. As he quietly starred down at it, he noticed that Chances part of the picture was broken and shattered.
ITrapped didn't had a chance to look at them. Now their face was unrecognizable. Another sigh left his mouth, trembling.
The silence was awkward still. Without their constant chatter, he felt empty.
He didn't wanna keep on thinking about it.
Quickly he averted his gaze back to the Bunny.
He picked the bunny up carefully, gaining a hiss at him as he made way to put Spade back in little bed Chance had once made.
It didn't really take long until the bunny went to sleep. It wasn't going to be long until the new year would start for everyone.
So ITrapped made his way to the closet now, standing infront of it but not opening it yet. He first undressed himself.
Shedding his clothes one after another, making sure he would fold every single piece carefully and neat as he left it sitting on a nearby chair before accidentally catching his reflection in the body-long mirror on the closet.
He starred at himself. His half-naked self, his underwear the only thing covering up his mistakes.
ITrapped looked more pale then he should.
ITrapped looked more skinnier than he should.
ITrapped looked more tired than he should.
ITrapped was more shaker than he should.
ITrappeds eyes were unfocused and shaky, twichting.
ITrappeds hands were trembling uncontrollably, the colorful bandaid on his frozen fingertips helping absolutely nothing.
ITrappeds chest was full of bandaid and his ugly scars he got.
ITrappeds wrists and thighs were full of healed cuts— some small, some deep, some huge, some small, some deadly, some harmless.
The more he started at himself in the mirror, the more he noticed how he had changed since Chances death.
He has barely been going outside since he gave himself chores to do.
He has barely eating anything and only feeding Spade as best as possible.
He has barely given himself any breaks for days without an end.
He has barely giving himself any warmth and let himself suffer in the cold.
He has barely been able to stay calm and collected as back then.
He has barely been to forget everything Chance had done to help him get through with life.
He has barely been able to stop cutting himself since that day on.
Cutting himself from the neck, to his chest, to his arms, to his stomach, to his thighs — Everywhere he was begging could possibly end his life.
He knows it's his fault.
He can't stop blaming himself for it.
Fucking pathetic.
He should go fucking die.
He has been trying to do so. Indeed he has. But cutting himself right where the past shards of frozen ice had pierced him were the only thing that would be close to an attempted suicide.
ITrapped stopped starring as he continued on, choosing whatever pajama from Chance looked comfortable enough for him to put on without feeling the texture scratch at him.
Once he was done, he looked back at the time.
11 : 49
Soon it was time.
He immediately went to bed, taking a moment to take off his ice crown and taking one last look at Spade peacefully sleeping... unaware of all.
The moment he got in, the sudden chill of the blankets wrapping him was the only comfort he had now. He tried to get comfortable but couldn't.
It frustrated him. Badly.
Without thinking, ITrapped had already biten into his own arm once again.
Then again.
Then again.
He bit hard. Hoping it would be enough for him to bleed out
But all he got was pain and marks of his teeth on his scarred skin.
ITrapped ran his frozen, shaky fingers over the marks. Feeling the texture and the after pain on there. His skin turning slightly red around those marks now.
He was done for today.
He knew he couldn't properly sleep. But yet he tried.
The moment his eyes closed, his body trying to relax. The time had struck at 12.
A new year.
Finally.
It's been 4 years after their death now.
Sleeping through Chances death anniversary.
Wanting to forget it all.
Atleast one thing he knew Chance would be proud of:
ITrapped hasn't given up yet.