Disclaimer: Ratchet and Clank are owned by Insomniac Games. I own nothing.
Before you guys continue, I should put this here.
WARNING: THOUGHTS AND ATTEMPTS OF SUICIDE. For those of you dealing with depression, suicide is not the answer. Get help from professional doctors or a suicide hotline. You're not alone. You're never alone. Somebody out there loves you and cares about you. You do matter. Never let the evil words in your head take you to the permanent solution to a temporary problem.
Anyways! Moving on to the depressing crap...
It was painful... But it was all he could feel now.
Cold steel slowly dragged across his skin, healing cuts ripped apart and warm blood flowed from his veins and out onto his skin.
Cut deeper... End it all... You should just die... Everyone would be happier without you... There's nothing left for you... It's all over from here... You're nothing but a failure...
He tried talking to a therapist. They never helped. They thought it was all just a joke.
"Ratchet? With depression? Hah! Not in a million years!" They would laugh. They would deny the facts and accept the lies.
He went with them. Fake smiles and fake laughs. It just made it worse.
Just die.
The first drop splattered onto the ground, followed by others. The cuts weren't deep enough to kill, but they were shallow. Enough to bleed just the right amount.
Ratchet gave a small sigh as he rested his aching head against the table. He let his arms hang from his shoulders as the rivers of red flowed from his upper arms and down to his finger tips. The lake of blood slowly filling up on the floor would be taken care of later.
For right now, he was just letting every problem bleed out. It was the only logical solution to the negative thoughts. They'd finally shut up during the bleeding, but once the blood slowed to a crawl and bandages were wrapped, the voices would start whispering again.
You should have made those cuts deeper... You should have bleed out your life...
Hiding the cuts is easier said than done. Clank always knew when he bled out. He would use soap and water to clean all the blood up and just a hint of bleach to keep any traces of blood masked on the floor, but somehow Clank would find out.
"Ratchet, killing-"
"Killing myself is never the answer. I know. That's all you ever say to me now." The cuts would burn with pain when they started healing. Taking the bandages off would only cause pain when the cuts weren't healed enough. It's just a waiting game until he can't take the words of evil in his head.
Back to the work room, back to the cold steel blade of the pocket knife he picked up at a donation store. Someone just didn't want the glossy red painted covered object... It was only two bolts. The was dull and showing some rust then, but a little rubbing and running the blade across a sharpening stone and it could cut paper cleaner than the other knives in the house now. Yet there he was cutting his flesh apart when his head would betray him. It was pitiful.
However, it kept his head quiet and it never strayed from the path he sent it on. It never slipped from his grasp, and it never snagged on his skin. It never slid too fast or too slow. It gave him the right amount of pain. It never betrayed him and sliced his veins too deep.
That knife was his new best friend. Sure, Clank was still his first best friend, and nothing could ever replace him, but that pocket knife would be the friend he could go to when Clank was either giving useless advice or busy with chores.
That knife took away pain that Clank just simply couldn't.
It could take the pain away permanently.
...Holy crap that was kinda dark.
I'm still mourning over the loss of Chester Bennington from Linkin Park and I may or may not be dealing with some mild form of depression... Maybe. I haven't gone to a professional yet, but I've been thinking about it...
So, I wrote this as a personal therapy... I know, torturing a character in fan fiction is a little weird... But for some strange reason, it's... Helping me cope... I guess.
Anyways, I'll see you guys later.
~Jak Cooper the Lombax