Basically, we already know how Lissa copes with the darkness sometimes in the books. This is looking at that somewhat. Please I beg you not to read if you may be triggered by it. I'm writing this from that sort of a place right now and it would hurt me to know i've done that to another but I needed to do something productive with this excess.
The swirling ball of rope in her chest was pulsing. Tighter and tighter it seemed to knot and weave, extending it's fraying edges into her extremities like puppet strings ready to move her as it wished, as it craved. Like the tides of the ocean at night it swept over her, coming in rhythmic surges, closer and closer to swallowing her whole being and drowning her in negativity.
"You don't know what you're doing" It crooned, caresing her like a lover, as someone her knew her intimately. "You're letting everybody down. They can see the cracks. They know you're breaking, waiting for it, even." The rope sent one of it's loose ends sharply, the feeling a lash against her insides as she acknowledged the words.
"You're wrong." she muttered back half heartedly, an antsy feeling welling up inside her as she breathed deeply. Inhale, 2 3 4, hold 2 3 4, exhale 2 3 4, count 2 3 4, repeat. She wished the voice would leave her, would settle down in it's carved out nest again and come another time, a better time. That was a laugh. A better time. There was no such thing for this- this feeling. It came during the better times with a sudden lash, and drained it all away till there was only it's all consuming urgency.
It writhed, sending sparks through her nervous system. It was laughing at her, reminding her it would only go away once appeased. And she glanced at the jewelry box on the window sill, the one with the needle and thread and scissors. 'No. Not today. I've been so good.' she told it, told herself. She'd been coping, and she could cope without resorting to that for another day.
The rope surged again, cutting her from the inside instead, pleased at its denial, it did love to stay and taunt her instead of being given it's prize early in it's warped mind games. "You know it's true. No one's coming to help you. They're all throwing in a handful of dirt, burying you alive, and they're enjoying it." it whispered to her, making her breath hitch from the negativity of the feelings it was pouring into her. "You know how to make me quiet. You know how to help yourself." she did know. Oh lord she knew, but it was wrong it was unhealthy and she'd promised! She'd promised she'd stop. That she wouldn't do it again. That she'd go wake her friend, sleeping in the room next to hers and tell her. But what could her friend do? There wasn't anything that quieted the demon like the rake across her skin would.
She already knew today was a lost battle, and shame washed over her knowing she'd let her friend down, let herself down. And she let the rope move her like a puppet over to the jewelry box, defeat making itself known, but a spark of contentment too. She'd quiet the demon for the night and there would be no long battle leaving her with little to no sleep.
She opened the box. "I'm so sorry, Rose."