This is a story asked for by Buttercuprocks.
I hope you like this story and believe it is a good end to this little series.
I would like to remind people that I will take commissions from anyone who wants them made.
Hope everyone enjoys this finial part.
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Buttercup stared at the wall that were covered in so many different pictures and drawings, it was hard to find a place for eyes to focus for a long time. Of course she could always look at the man who was working on her wrist, but she didn't want to. She didn't want to look at her wrist until it was done. This is was going to be as much a surprised to her as it was going to be for Butch back at home. Buttercup would have laughed, knowing her boyfriend was probably passing in their room. She was a little worried about what was going on in his mind, but she had really wanted to do this alone. It had been a few years since she had moved in with Butch and his brothers. At first it was a little strange, the boys getting use to a girl in the house, and Buttercup had to deal with a family that wouldn't hurt her. Butch stayed by her side, holding her in his arms whenever he could, and since it had been only a month until summer the time quickly increased. After the last year of high school, just three months ago, the silent fiasco happened. Buttercup was back to her toughest fighter self and was even wrestling with the boys every once in a while, and she even won a few times. Everything seemed perfect, but that only meant something bad was basically begging to go wrong. The three boys had all left the house for their own reasons, leaving Buttercup home alone, but they had agreed to all be back as soon as they could. Buttercup didn't mind being alone from time to time, but even if she did get lonely she could always go out is she really wanted. She had missed being able to fly when she had been poisoned, and would take long flights every now and again, sometimes with Butch, sometimes by herself. Everything was fine for most of the day, she was just catching up on shows she would never watch with the boys around, not that the boys would ever want to sit through some of the girly shows she took some interest in. It was getting close to dinner time and she was starting to feel hungry, but the boys and she always ate dinner together, so she went to the kitchen to look for a small snack to hold her over until they came back. Thankfully, the boys always had a lot of food in the kitchen, it was just a matter of digging it and finding it. She was looking through the cupboards, looking for anything the boy may have hidden away, when she found something that wasn't what she was looking for. At first she didn't recognize it, but once she did it dropped from her hands quickly. She could feel her wrist start to lightly tingle, a feeling she hadn't felt in a long time. She hadn't been near a razor blade in two years, since she had left her abusers and joined Butch's family. She quickly left the room, knowing she would lose herself is she stayed.
She watched her shows trying to forget what she had seen in the next room, ignoring the feeling in her gut that was calling for food. She was not going into that kitchen until one of the boys came home. However, her mind wouldn't let her forget anything. If she had closed her eyes she could still see the shiny little blade on the counter, staring up at her, mocking her. The thought of the blade, the very knowledge of its presence so close to her was taunting and humiliating to her. She grabbed at her wrist, holding it tightly, trying to stop the feelings from it, the almost excited tingling from the thought of being cut again. She tried to think of Butch and his brother when they had seen her try to cut for the first time, all three of them trying to stop her in their own way. She tried to think of the grip Butch had on her shoulder, the electricity that Boomer had ran through her arm, Brick's fire heating the metal blade below her fingertips. She tried to remember their faces, the fear and worry all three of them had even though only one of them had been so close to her. Unfortunately, her mind couldn't be taken off of the object in the kitchen and what it could bring her. The memories of peace and pain, of control and terror that were flooding into her, and fogged her mind. Before she really knew what was going on, she had run into the kitchen, grabbed the blade from exactly where she left it, and had locked herself into the bathroom.
She sat in the tub, staring at the old scars on her wrist, remembering the pain and despair that had cause them. The blade dragged across her wrist once. She hissed in pain, having forgotten how much the cuts hurt. Red started to drip into the tub the metal crossed over her skin for the second time. Buttercup closed her eyes and savored the third and fourth cuts. The tingling in her wrist calmed as blood fell and ran down the drain. The fifth cup was slow and the last one. She had once been able to do more but she had satisfied her need for today. Maybe another time she could work on getting back to where she had been. She didn't think it would take long to do so. It was like getting back to a point in sports, your body remembers and will act accordingly. She was just about to plan how many times she would the next time when the bathroom door was blasted it, and a very angry forest green ruff was looking down at her. He said nothing to her, and she said nothing to him. There was really nothing to say. Her wrist was still bleeding, and she still held the razor. There was no denying the act happened nor that she had done it to herself. Butch was slightly shaking, but he made no move towards her. He sighed as he closed his eyes before leaving the bathroom. Boomer and Brick enter quickly after their brother left the house, and took care of Buttercup's cuts. They also didn't talk to her, but that didn't stop her from apologizing over and over again.
For two months, the house was silent. Buttercup rarely saw Butch, if he was ever at home, the other two weren't much better either. They talked among themselves, she heard almost all their conversations, but if she walked in, they would stop and almost always Butch would leave. Eventually, she couldn't take it anymore, she couldn't take the person she loved ignoring her. So she waited for him to come home. Of course he tried to act the same way, but she stopped him.
"Butch, please, I'm sorry I cut. I wasn't planning to do it. Please, talk to me." She pleaded. Butch sighed heavily before looking at her in the eye.
"I'm disappointed in you, Buttercup. Two years and you haven't done anything, why now? Did something happen to change your mind?" Buttercup felt heart broken. She knew Butch was disappointed. She was disappointed in herself as well. Why couldn't she have been stronger to stop the blade, and now she didn't even have the excuse of Antidote X to fall back on.
"Nothing changed. I didn't plan on doing it. You have to believe me, Butch. One moment I'm looking for a snack, next thing I know I'm sitting in the tub with five new cuts." Buttercup explained. She was pleading with Butch. She wanted him to know she hadn't wanted it. Her body just moved to satisfy an old instinct. Butch looked away from her, not completely believe she had been on autopilot. He just couldn't believe she would harm without a reason. He started to head up to the guest room, where he had decided to sleep instead of their shared room, however, Buttercup grabbed his wrist, tears falling from her eyes.
"Butch, please. I don't care if you don't believe me or not, just don't shut me out like this. Brick and Boom are doing it too, and I feel alone." She half yelled. She didn't care is she woke the boys up, they would be hearing it eventually. She gripped Butch's wrist harder, forcing her body not to shake as she cried. "I don't know which is worse: being abused by who never care for me or me for them, or to be ignored and avoided by the man I love and the people who I consider my only family. Not being able to have you around, or able to talk to you is making me want to cut more than I did two years ago." Those words seemed to break whatever wall he had put between them. He hugged her tightly, burying her face in her hair. She heard a few sobs escape his throat, but he didn't let any tears fall. Buttercup just returned the hug, feeling safe again in the arms of the man she loved. Nothing else was said that night. They walked up to their room and fell asleep, holding each other still. For the next two days, Butch barely let go of the green puff, as if he was making up for the three months that he hadn't been near her. After another month or so, Buttercup decided to resolve herself from her actions.
"There, all done. What do you think?" The artist asked, moving away so she could see the tattoo that now graced her scared wrist. She had designed it herself, but the tattoo artist really brought it to life. It was a butcher knife, a big meat cleaver, the blade chipped and rusted, the handle looked ready to fall off. The only thing keeping it on was the stem of a flower twisted around it, the flower bud itself resting in the middle of the blade, a bright yellow buttercup. In all honesty, she never expected it to come out this well done. She thanked the artist and paid what was owed before flying back to show her worried boyfriend. She hadn't told him what she was doing today, that she would be back. She really believe that everything was going to be perfect from now on.