Prologue

Disclaimer: All rights go to Rebecca Sugar and Cartoon Network. None of it is mine, except for the plot. Sigh.

Main pairing: Lapis/Peridot.

Type: Human/College! AU.

Warnings: Self-harm, abuse, depression, sexual harassment, under-age substance addiction and homosexuality.

Rating: M

A/N: Hey and thanks! You've began your journey into reading another one of my stories and I hope you enjoy it. This AU has been lingering in my head for a while and I guess it was finally time to let it out. I'm still working on Kid Sister, though. So maybe you guys wanna check that one out too? I'd appreciate the reviews and comments, so keep them coming. I also wanna try to use all of the characters the show has given us so far and incorporate them into the story because I like all of them.

Enjoy!

The young woman liked blood.

No, scratch that. She, for some twisted reason or another, absolutely loved blood.

And as she sat with her bare back against the cold surface of the tub, the young woman gave out a slow, shaky breath of release as she dragged the edge of the small blade into her inner left arm. A small, somewhat blissful smile carved out on her trembling lips as more hot tears leaked out from her eyes from the sharp, stinging pain of her fresh wounds.

Her head was throbbing something dull, yet familiar and the young woman held back and swallowed, yet again, a nauseating lump in her throat. Her vision was blurry; impaired from the tears that lined and flowed from her eyes, going down flushed cheeks to a quivering chin.

Another sharp sensation of pain overtook her before it blossomed into warmth as she carved out another vertical line on her skin. She felt as high as the clouds; lost in the maddening sensation of odd bliss and numbness of her wounds, and the strong, overwhelming, metallic smell of blood lingering in the air was slowly choking her; like long, thick fingers or tendrils coiling around her throat from the base of her stomach.

But it was nothing she was not used to, anyway.

The weak smile that graced her lips enlarged and she blade dropped out of her cold grasp onto the surface of the tub with a shocking 'clank!' The young woman leaned her head back and closed her eyes to soothe her headache.

Some people drink; others might wrestle or jog- there were lots of methods that existed that people all around turn to lose from them the stresses of daily life; anything to provide them escape from the horrible confines of life and reality and the pain of heartbreak and frustration; the desperation of survival amidst the chaotic masses and growth of community. Hers was cutting.

Blood- the pain of the wounds from which it came from; its powerful smell, strong and overwhelming like bleach, marker ink and gasoline; and its bitter, metallic taste in her mouth, from those times whenever she felt like it- was her drug.

Her chest felt heavy and it was like the young woman had trouble breathing- her breaths were deep and ragged and she knew that the headache was going to be awhile, but at least she was calm. At least she was in control of her emotions. The situation was, to put it roughly, a bit fucked up; but to the young woman it felt like everything was alright again in the world.

She cracked her eyes open to the blinding lights of her bathroom and groaned, before averting her gaze to her bloody arm. Who knew red could be such a soothing colour? Her fresh wounds were open and on display like art on a canvas, and the repeat of symmetrical lines were kind of peaceful to the young woman.

She slowly ran a well-manicured finger along her cuts and scars; old and new and was lost in her own head. A slight shiver crept up her spine from when her senses finally registered itself to the bathroom's low temperature and the young woman sighed.

She hooked her uninjured arm over the edge of the tub and pulled herself to her knees. Thin lines of blood ran down her arm and the young woman was thankful that she'd taken the decision to go shirtless, save for the cotton black and grey brief on her lower body to cover up her nether regions. It was much easier this way than to wash off her shirt every time before she could deposit it in the laundry basket for washing.

The young woman paused and with a low hum, she licked off a drop of blood that threatened to fall off her elbow.

It was unhygienic; it was sick, and it also kind of stung a bit and the young woman knew all too well the other many reasons why she shouldn't do it. But she just couldn't stop. Not that she didn't want to, simply because she didn't feel like it yet. The young woman knows that her reasoning is stupid, but it is what it is.

Her home was empty, and for tonight, it was like she had all the time in the world to herself- no responsibilities, no expectations; no worries. She turned on the shower and relished the strong, refreshing spray of water onto her body. She slowly ran the warm water over the cuts to clean them off. After the rinse, the young woman deposited her brief shorts into the basket and wiped herself dry with a clean towel. She used a separate, smaller towel to dab gently onto her wounds, before applying Vaseline onto them. She'd found information about cleaning her cuts online some years ago and stuck with it through the years. The website also suggests putting some sugar onto the wounds but she was not in the mood for it tonight. So after that she put on some antibacterial cream to prevent infection and wrapped her arm with a bandage.

Then, the young woman put on some clothes- a white camisole and some grey shorts, turned off the lights and eased herself into bed. She'd initially wanted to check her phone for any new notifications or messages that had come while she was… occupied, but the thought of sleep takes over her thoughts and her now smaller headache was making it sound so… enchanting.

She blew her last conscious breath for the night and gingerly closed her eyes; while her heart dreads the surprises that tomorrow might bring her.

Reviews are welcome!