Disclaimer: I do not own Fairy Tail.
Self-Harm
Chapter One
Carefully laid out on her lap is a black hand towel, and her tin, right in the middle. She opens the lid of the tin, and stares at its contents. What is it about a razor blade, pill bottle, or any other sharp object that is so aesthetically pleasing? What is it about a razorblade that is so intricate? She could just sit and stare at these objects for hours on end, analyzing every fine detail of its shape, and the capability it has to do anything as long as her hands guide it. What about a pill bottle? Knowing that what she's holding could possibly end it all? In the palm of her hand... Such simple items, that she could use on a daily basis, holds the capability to take someone's life. Her tin carries everything she would ever need for her own demise. If such desire ever arose of course. She would have it all, in her little red tin.
The items contained, if found by someone from the guild, or anyone else would probably terrify them...
Natsu...
A million questions would race through their minds, and not knowing a single answer...
Would people think I am sick if they knew about this? Am I normal for doing so?
Why do people make such a fuss over self-harm? She does know one thing. People don't self-harm to die. They do so to escape reality. To fight the demons who are tearing at their insides. They are fighting to stay alive, and cope with the immense pain in any way that they can, so if hurting themselves helps them cope, and makes that person feel good, or even better, feel alive, they should be able to do so without being placed in a mental institution.
I'm so weak...
Life is filled with fucked up people, doing fucked up things. Half of the time, actually scratch that. Ninety percent of the time, no one takes notice to the little things, for example, why this person is buying Wake Ups every 3 days? Or why someone is coming in to have their prescription filled weeks before the first was meant to run out. People do crazy things, and sometimes you're helping them but not even realizing what you're doing until it's too late.
I'm so weak... I can't fight like you, minna...
What is the proper term for someone who is mentally unstable? I am not quite sure how to address us. Crazy? Psycho? Mental? Fuck Ups?EMO? Those seem to be today's terms for anyone who has ever injured themselves on purpose. If you've never self-injured, you don't know what it's like. You don't understand, nor ever will, unless a day comes that you decide to pick up those scissors, or that knife, or that lighter even. Many people say that they understand the concept of self-harm. Only ones who do harm themselves truly understand the craving you get for it. The more you do it, the more you crave it. So you sit on your bathroom floor and drag that blade down the length of your arm, gritting your teeth, or some even smile as they feel the razors sharp edge caressing their skin. You sit and watch the blood seep out of your open wounds, smiling as those scarlet beads form and grow, and eventually drop to the cold floor beneath you.
I'm sorry...
What would it feel like if she pressed that blade down even harder? How much blood can she actually bleed? If this feels damn good, will it feel better if she do it more, and even deeper? Some think they can stop once they've started, some think that you can control the length, and depth of your incisions. Truth is, once you make that first cut, there is no going back. If you're in dire need for an escape, and you cut for the first time, it won't stop. Your first cut will most likely be thin, and shallow. But as time goes on, you will cut more. You will cut deeper, as the craving gets more intense with each passing cut. One cut turns into ten. Ten turns into twenty. Twenty turns into thirty. And once you run out of skin to play with on your arms, you turn to other parts of your body. You look to your legs, and start a new picture. Then, your stomach. Some even go as far as to slice their backs, and even their chests. Self-injury is a craving. It's an addiction. Once you start, you can't stop unless you get serious help.
Lucy smiled at the feeling of ecstasy caused by the pain; she put the bloody blades inside the tin and hid them behind the sink. She wiped the blood from her wrists and put two bracelets to hide the inflamed wounds; she dressed with her usual clothes and walked out of the apartment doing her way to the guild.
Stopping in front of the Fairy Tail doors, Lucy forced a smile...
Thank you for reading! Please, review!
-Heloh-