He had read about it in a smuggled muggle newspaper. At first the idea seemed insane, crazy, something that only an idiot would do. Who else would harm themself in such a way?
But when Sirius returned home the summer he turned sixteen the idea entered his mind more often, usually when he was locked in his room with some rock band playing loudly, his mind left to wander with the beat of the bass guitar. What harm would it do, really? His parents had hit him before, violence never beneath them, cursed him seven. Why couldn't he save them the trouble? The blade wouldn't be hard to get, the privacy of his room enough to keep them away.
But something held him back then. He had friends, didn't he? They cared about him, didn't they?
Even those optimistic thoughts were crushed in the gloom of his bedroom, decorated in black, the heavy scarlet curtains drawn shut. Light found its way to Sirius, however, when he stood up to his pureblood mother. The shouting match that followed released Sirius' enraged thoughts, the hate that had been building all of his life leaving him in a torrent of crude words that would have made a nun blush.
With his wand in one hand and a trunk that held all his possessions in the other, Sirius made his way to the house of his best friend: James. The Potter family eagerly accepted him into their home, providing him with a family-oriented love Sirius had never known.
Sunshine-filled days were lazily spend in another world apart from the violent rising of the Dark Lord Voldemort. Sirius and James lounged around, playing quidditch and Gobstones, their only troubles were what time to go to bed and what to eat for breakfast.
Though Sirius enjoyed himself during the day, the darkness of night seemed all too much like the musty bedroom he had once occupied. The darkness allowed his mind to run free, free to places that feared the cheery sunlight. In the darkness Sirius could think bitter thoughts without the concern and questions of others.
It sounded sweeter than ever now, that thought of release. He felt disgusted with himself, as if he had been plunged into a bucket of slime and no matter how hard he scrubbed the slime wouldn't come off. The guilt of who he could have, would have, become bubbled inside of him.
Sometimes he envisioned himself as a hero, making amends with Snape and apologizing for his rudeness, finding a cure for lycanthropy, people smiling at him and waving as he passed. Sirius knew it would never happen. Sometimes he thought up a tragic hero, a beaten pureblood boy who knew what was right and what was wrong, who was killed by the other purebloods because of it. Everyone had mourned his loss. Sirius knew that it wouldn't happen either.
The daydreams distracted him from the vision of a platinum kitchen knife for a while. Though the idea of it was still something he lingered on. The press of the thin, harsh blade against his skin, the tickling of the hot blood running down his arm, his leg, his chest. He blamed the purple bags beneath his eyes on the hot, sticky summer nights. He claimed that they kept him up, tossing and turning until sunrise. The excuse held until his return to school.
Hogwarts was a busy place for sixth years. Despite that, being reunited with Peter and Remus brightened Sirius' smile. In a hidden corner of his mind, the shadow lingered. When James laughed, Sirius joined in just to keep James from asking him what was wrong. He felt restless. Something needed to happen already!
One of the days he was alone in the dorm, the shiny blade that Remus used to shave reflected the lamp light into Sirius' eyes. Under the pretense of moving it to stop the light from shining in his eyes, Sirius moved over to the desk. He paused, staring at the blade. Sirius stole Remus' shaving blade and hid it in a random place in his trunk, his adrenaline speeding through his veins too fast for him to properly hide it.
The sticky summer nights had melted seamlessly into bitter autumn nights that froze the students in Gryffindor Tower, though it was only a hint of the winter to come. Sirius didn't notice the lack of sunlight, he didn't notice the abundance of clouds in the sky.
Remus was the first to ask Sirius if he was okay. Sirius said that he was just fine, he was just bored. Remus suggested reading. Sirius hunted down an author called Poe. He didn't understand some of the larger words, but he didn't care. They held a sense of morbid lust, carrying something dark that Sirius couldn't explain. He loved the books.
In the dead of winter everything was bare and sullen. The trees had no leaves, the little plants grew no flowers, and the grass was lost in ice crystals as far as eye could see. Thick snow clouds selfishly hid the sunlight from the icy grounds.
Peter asked Sirius if he was okay. Sirius said that he was just fine, he was just cold. Peter suggested a hot shower. Sirius grabbed his last clean towel and headed for the boy's showers. He removed his clothes as he ran the shower at a scalding hot temperature, hating how the cold in the room moved in on his exposed body. He unrolled his towel to place it on the rack and out fell Remus' shaving blade.
Sirius paused. Carefully, slowly he picked it up, as if afraid to cut himself. Sirius looked around quickly–no one else was in there. He brought the blade into the shower stall. He had no real need to shave himself, he had yet to grow more than one facial hair. As he stepped into the jet of water it burned his skin and turned it a furious shade of pink. He didn't feel it. He was numb. All he could see was the blade, sparkling with the mist from the shower.
Later on, he wouldn't remember washing his hair or body. He wouldn't remember grabbing the little blade from the built-in shelf and pressing it to the red skin of the inside of his arm. He wouldn't remember sighing as he fell against the back of the shower stall, relieved as he felt the tingling of the blood leaving his body and rushing down the drain.
He concealed the cut. He hid the blade in his towel again.
Winter turned to spring and the luscious greenery returned. Flowers blossomed, feeding hearty bumblebees, and the once-bare trees were budding. There wasn't a cloud in the sky and the sun was arrogantly showing off. It seemed that everyone was outside enjoying the much deserved sunshine.
Remus paused as he walked down to the lake, flanked on either side by James and Peter. Sirius wasn't with them again, Remus ought to see what was holding the other boy inside. He waved off James and Peter, who shrugged and continued without him, and headed for the empty common room.
He paused on the inside of the door as if he had seen something that didn't quite register in his mind. Sirius sat on his bed staring down at his arm. The sleeve of his white dress shirt had been rolled up as far as possible, exposing a design of thin scars and one new cut that was deeper than the rest. Blood was splattered over the rug, below Sirius' feet, his pants and shirt, the golden bedspread on which he sat.
Sirius said dully that it wouldn't stop, looking up at Remus with a dazed expression. He watched the blood gush out of his body, doing nothing to stop the flow. Remus noticed his missing blade on the floor, coated in metallic blood. He closed the door and demanded why Sirius had done this to himself.
Sirius said that it wouldn't stop. Remus told him to put pressure on it as he searched for something to tie it up with. He tore part of James' pillowcase, a long strip that would wrap around Sirius' arm nicely. Sirius hadn't moved.
Remus talked to him as he pushed on Sirius' wound with his bare hands, telling him that they would get him help as he leaned in a small pool of blood and tied the fabric tightly around Sirius' arm. He pulled tighter. Sirius didn't flinch. Sirius said in that same dead voice that he was tired and wanted to sleep, couldn't Remus do whatever it was he was doing later?
Remus paused long enough to stare at him with worry. He stood and told Sirius that they were headed for the Infirmary. Weakly, Sirius fought him until he toppled over from loss of balance. Remus caught him, steadied him, hurried the heavy boy down the stairs knowing that he had lost too much blood already. Madam Pomfrey led Sirius to a bed without question, healed his cuts, and fed him a variety of potions.
Remus felt as dazed as Sirius had been earlier, watching Madam Pomfrey hurry around Sirius. He looked down. He had blood on his hands.
The moment Sirius was out of the Hospital Wing rumors started. He ignored them. James wouldn't let him near as much as a butter knife or a sharp quill unsupervised. Peter watched him warily as if he would go wild and attack an innocent fourth year any moment. Dumbledore met with him twice a week and McGonagall the other three days of the working week.
Sirius longed for the release of the cold knife, but it was too risky now. He had been caught. He needed it now more than ever, now that everyone's eyes were on him. He felt bitter with Madam Pomfrey, murderous at the second year who had shrieked when Remus brought him in. Despite being the one who had exposed his habit, Sirius wasn't truly angry with Remus. Sure, he had the odd hateful thought against Remus now and then, but he knew that he didn't mean it. Despite being the one who had found Sirius, Remus treated Sirius the same as he had before. He joked with Sirius. He bought Sirius more of Poe.
Once, when the days were longer than the nights and the nights were getting warmer, Sirius asked him why that was. Remus shrugged, pushing his fringe from his eyes. Remus said that Sirius needn't be treated as a time bomb, ready to explode at any time. Sirius mustered a smile. Remus grinned at him.
Once, when they were alone, looking out the window at the stars that burned in the summer sky, Sirius asked Remus what had happened to the shaving blade. Remus sternly said that it mustn't concern Sirius, Sirius wouldn't need it anymore anyway.
Remus' hand had the same effect on his hand as the tearing of Sirius' flesh under the blade. He felt the other hand clasp his own.
Remus said that Sirius could come over this summer, if he liked. Sirius simled and found that he was looking forward to that. He said that he would come, but only if Remus would keep him safe from himself. Remus lightly kissed Sirius' cheek and whispered that Sirius could count on it.
A/n– Inspired by a book called Kill Grandma For Me by Jim DeFelice. Pages 46-47 discuss cutting, and that made me think of how many fanfic writers don't portray cutting correctly. The symptoms are deeper than people think. One doesn't just wake up and decide "Hey, I want to cut myself today!"
Written in an hour and forty-five minutes. That's fast for me. I was in a "zone" as my mom calls it. There will be no sequel, to clear that up!
Please review. Constructive criticism is valued over everything else. Feel free to point out typos, as I am sure that there are some.
:-:silver-sunn101:-: