Hello everyone! This is a new story i'm working on! Don't worry i've already finished writing this story! I just want to post the chapters per day! There are only 3 chapters! So please bear with me!
So this idea came to mind when i saw a Tumblr thread that had the idea of using the seven deadly sins as a way for a person to feel human again (someone who is depressed). So I made a story about it fairy tail style, cause fairy tail is awesome! Luv it.
Now on to a more serious note. Suicide is not a joke! It is real and it kills people. If you are reading this and you are depressed just know that there are people out there who will listen to you, who will help you. There are suicide outlines out there, please seek their help. I've been there and I know it feels like there is no hope for the future know that there is! Chat me up! I'll talk with you!
I do not own anything. Hiro-sama does i'm just a nerd of ft hehehe.
All the seven deadly sins are man's true nature.
To be greedy.
To be hateful.
To have lust.
Of course, you have to control them, but if you're made to feel guilty for being human,
then you're going to be trapped in a never-ending sin-and-repent cycle that you can't escape
-Marilyn Manson
WARNING:
this story contains major suicide thoughts and triggers please read at your own discretion
1ST PERSON POINT OF VIEW
STORY:
Darkness. Have you ever experienced waking up and yet choosing not to open your eyes. The feeling of laying on the bed as you think of nothing. Floating in your own space as if nothing ever mattered; and yet, even though you try so hard to relax- to let go, they fail to keep the monstrous thoughts away. Maybe i'm not meant to let go. Maybe this is punishment? Maybe it's better if I hang my-
I cut my own thoughts by gripping my hair so hard I felt pain, Even though I felt like the pain was numbed by something- still I felt it. Yes! Pain, pain is good. Pain makes you remember that you are alive. Pain makes you forget the dark thoughts you have. Pain makes you release. Surely feeling pain is better than not feeling at all, better than dying. Maybe?
I feel them, the Butterflies. There are butterflies in my stomach, i'm sure of it. You know that gut feeling that something's going to happen; a feeling of foreshadowing, but not quite so? I feel them moving inside me, but the feeling I get isn't good, it's like waiting for an accident to happen. I thought butterflies were good, beautiful; a representation of the soul, a perfect example of resurrection, perfect example of life. Surely something so beautiful cannot cause the feeling of something so sad, of something- something so sorrowful?
Now I get it; the things in my stomach aren't butterflies, they're moths. The harbinger of death and fear, the dark witch. They twist and fold and squeeze my insides making me feel animosity. Animosity to what? The world? Myself? I do not know the answer all I know is that the foreboding feeling I get is real. It may seem no sense to others, yet it makes perfect sense to me. It is a wonder though that butterflies and moths are often mistaken for one another, Direct opposites in meaning yet look very much alike. One representing resurrection the other representing death. Why did the world have to bring moths to life? They're nothing but an ugly reminder of ones humanity; death.
I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling, letting my thoughts run lose. Lifting my head I let my eyes roam around the darkly lit room. Where am I? Who am I? I cannot seem to remember anything. Yet the room seem familiar and oddly comforting with it's pink bubble patterned walls, wooden flooring and the yellow-orange carpet extending from the edge of the bookshelf near the door and extending towards the underside of the bed.
Standing up from the bed I nearly fell over with how weak my knees felt. Like I haven't used them in quite awhile cutting of the blood circulation, it's amazing I didn't notice it before. I gripped the edge of the beds headboard to keep myself from falling, gritting my teeth to hold the scream for help that was on the tip of my tongue. I refused to let anyone see me this week. Refuse to let someone help me because of my inability to help myself. I let my feet wander around the apartment as I tried to figure out who I was. Nothing. Not even a hint of my identity came to mind. Not my name nor what I look like.
No one seems to be inside the apartment; except for me, of course. Alone. Was I always alone? No wonder I keep feeling depressed and empty. Maybe I don't have something worth living for.
They were back, the moths. Images of myself committing suicide in various forms flashed through my mind. Hanging, pills, jumping off a building, knif-
STOP. STOP IT!
An echo reverberated across the empty room and I felt a numbing heat on the left side of my cheeks. I realized that I slapped myself. Pain. Yes, I needed pain. I was desperate for it, it made me feel alive.
I realized that I had let my feet wander around aimlessly again and found myself standing in front of a mirror. Pointing my eyes to my feet I tried to gather up the courage to look at my face. With a deep breath I Slowly tried to lift my head up.
My eyes drifted to my ankles-
I feel it, my heartbeat is slowly escalating
Shins-
It beats even faster. I now feel the irregular beats of my heart
Thighs-
PANIC SWELLED INSIDE ME. THE BEAT FASTER THAN THE LAST
HIPS-
I HEAR A LOW BUT EAR PIERCING TUNE INSIDE MY EAR. BILE RISING UP MY THROAT
CHEST-
EVEN FASTER NOW IT BEATS, SO MUCH SO THAT I CAN HEAR THE BEATS COMBINING WITH THE TUNE CREATING AN ANNOYING MELODY.
NECK-
THE MOTHS GATHER INSIDE MY STOMACH AND DANCE IN A HECTIC PATTERN
CHIN-
I hear myself make a gurgled sound as I throw up the contents of my stomach. I couldn't do it. I was afraid but I could not admit it to myself earlier on. Afraid of what? I do not know. Was I really that ugly, that I myself cannot look at my face? I can't do this. I have to get out of here.
I ran towards the door that would lead outside and gripped the door knob. I tried to twist it- to open it, and yet it would not budge. The panic I felt from before came back- double this time. Desperate more than ever, I ran to the nearest window and froze; the glass of the window was fogged up, not allowing me to see anything of what lies beyond. I tried opening it but like the door I got the same results.
Alone and scared I curled up against the wall as the feeling of hopelessness enveloped me. i did the only thing I could- I cried.
-7DSOAMAB-
I don't know how long i've been trapped here. I've tried everything to escape, from trying on a bunch of golden and silver keys laying on top of a table to smashing objects to the door and window to no effect. I feel hopeless. I can't even bring myself to eat. No will, no company, no identity, no anything.
I've spent my time pacing around the apartment the only thing keeping me sane were letters that I have come to read. I think I wrote them, I feel like I wrote them- after all, I still can't remember anything. Reading through the bunch of them two letters stand out the most. One about a pink haired guy and talking cat I met at a port and the unfinished letter that was on the desk about a fight I had with someone. Something weird happens when I read though; I can't seem to read the names. I try to focus on the names to be able to read them but the letters blur and scramble before I even get to the first letter. I wonder if this is it, if I have finally lost it. I even considered if I was dyslexic, but eventually canceled the theory when I figured out that only the names were scrambled
I still try though, to read the names and as I squinted my eyes for nth time this day I froze when I heard the door knob rattle. Slowly I turned my head towards the door as it slowly opened. Bright light slowly lit the room as a blurry shadow blocked the entrance.
The shadow stepped inside the room until it took form and closed the door behind it. The very first thing I noticed that the it was a she; a beautiful woman with long scarlet hair. The next noticeable thing I noticed was that she was wearing armor, although she looked very comfortable in it- like she's been wearing it for a long time. She had dark brown eyes that seem a little mismatched; the other being a more light tint, like it was plastic. I came to find however, that not her eyes, not her armor, not even her hair was the most prominent thing about her; It was her expression. Her face was contorted in anger; it was like she was ready to kill someone. Her fave held no stress, It is like her face is used to contorting to such an expression. She gritted her teeth and and walked towards the couch. Her every step was more of a stomp trying to release her anger with physical action.
Opening my mouth to speak- I quickly shut my jaws with an audible click when she spoke first; or more like screamed first.
"AGHHH THOSE IDIOTS! I CAN'T BELIEVE THEY HAD THE NERVE TO SPILL MY CAKE! I SWEAR TO ALL THAT IS HIGH AND MIGHTY I WILL FILLET THEM TO THE BONE! THOSE LITTLE SHITS THEY ARE GOING TI GET IT NE-"
She spent almost 2 hours ranting and shouting about "those two boys" who she never named until she calmed down. For all the time she was shouting she never once looked at me; instead she opted to look at nothing while getting things off her chest.
Suddenly she stood up with a huff and started pacing. Slowly but surely her furious expression melted and gave way to a small serene smile. Weird; it's almost as if nothing happened. It was as if she was calm the whole time. She looked up and sighed. And it took me awhile to notice she was talking again
"They miss you, you know? HE'S changed. HE was never the same when it happened. Please come back to us"
I was confused. Who was "he". Why did she mention the word "he" like I was supposed to know who the word "he" pertained to? Better question was who was she, with her scarlet hair barging in here like she owns the place. Maybe she did? I was knocked out of my thoughts when she stood up suddenly and went for the door. I tried to speak only to realize I couldn't. I physically couldn't speak! My eyes widened in realization and I panicked l. I ran up to her as she opened the door and when I was about to touch her I was blown back by a strong invisible force. I looked up again only to find the door already closed and the scarlet haired woman gone.
I didn't know what to feel. The moths they were back. No- not moths. A fire. I felt a fire lit up inside my stomach and I gritted my teeth to hold the scream echoing inside my head. Something was pinching he inside of my brain an unstoppable force urging me to release, to do something, to let go; and let go I did. I screamed fury and death as I let my sorrow, pain, anger out. I smashed everything I got my hands on. Gripping them so hard my hands hurt.
Panting, I let myself drop to the floor once I have calmed down. Even if I can't remember anything, I doubt that i've ever been this angry before; but why did it feel so good? To release the anger. To smash and throw things across the room. Why did I get the same feeling (when I feel pain) when I was angry. Why did I feel so good when I was releasing all my anger. Why did i feel so alive.
All I know is it all started with her, the girl I named Wrath.
- 7DSOAMAB
please comment your thoughts on the story!