Sullen, a Vignette by Rei ^death^ Himura
Disclaimer: Characters, of course, do not belong to me. Just toying with the idea of angst and self-mutilation.
***
The whisper of the blade upon her wrist was most exquisite, the feel of metal pressed lightly upon the fair skin. The glimmer, the shine. The glamour, the glory.
Wrapped up in a compact package, encased within the folds of crème wrapping paper. A present, waiting to be ripped upon on such an occasion.
The smile that lit her pale face lacked the usual emptiness, the coldness that usually accompanied the stony-eyed stare of a depressed individual. It was different now, as if the very present would free her from the shackles and bonds of slavery; slavery to the woes and constrictiveness of society, free her from the prying eyes of the gossipmongers who will not let sleeping dogs lie.
Freedom that she craved so much.
The door clicked shut, the sound of the world outside drowned out by the melancholic tunes that came from the old receiver by the sink; strains of Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake filtering away into the background. For once, her eyes glimmered with strong and heady intensity, hiding banked tendencies and violence behind violet-irised orbs.
The first cut was always the best, the sharp slice of the blade as it made a thin laceration upon the dry pale skin. The red line that emerged from the torn layers of skin, not so deep that it trickled, just enough to emerge. Another, and another accompanied it, each time following the beat of the cymbals as it clashed merrily in the background.
Eyes glazed over, only the euphoric feeling of obtuse happiness and freedom that seemed to clog her mind, tune out the sound of voices that hovered outside the closed bathroom door. Footsteps, intermingling with one another, and then a loud knock that caused the blade to jerk out of her fingers, flawlessly accompanying the music that crescendoed.
More voices, louder and harsher, causing her very frame to tremble. With anguish, pain and regret.
"OPEN UP DAMMIT! OPEN UP YOU FOOL!" Familiarity flickered into her eyes for a brief moment, and then dulled away as restless fingers sought out the errant blade. Three more lacerations, each deeper than the other. Her smile turned manic, pleased at her progress, delighted with the blood that now pooled around her slender legs on the tiled floor.
Cries. Whispers. Hushed voices. Footsteps. Thumping. Low voices. They all faded away to obscurity at the back of her mind. Too engrossed that she did not notice the key that turned silently in the lock, the knob that creaked initially before giving away to the determined twist of the wrist that beheld it.
Another cut, tears streamed down her face. Salty drops that tasted faintly metallic, as though it too were the droplets of blood that oozed from the cuts. Then the blade was taken away, arms held out in front of her, icy blue eyes thrusted into her line of sight. Warm slender fingers reached up to cup her face, gently tracing the prominent high cheekbones, sweeping away the trail of tears beneath her eyes.
"Oh god... Fuuko." Was all he said. And then the world turned black and all was lost.