Bonus drawing on tumblr "spooky-ink" /post/92798190744/because-the-one-from-a-few-days-ago-wasnt-sad
The first time she shot herself, the force of it knocked her off the bed and onto the floor. Turned out, it was easier to do it that way. The blood would get on the floor instead, and it was a hell of a lot easier to get off that than the walls or sheets.
[[she never understood why hyperion couldn't clean up the blood along with her body]]
Also, the grey tile was cool and calming under her. She'd been spread out with the sticky maroon pooling under her head and soaking the locks of her hair that weren't already matted or blown away and the tile was cool on the backs of her arms. The gun had fallen out of her hand almost immediately after she'd pulled the trigger. She meant to reach for it so she'd have it when she came out of the New-U station, but didn't think about it until the last chance for a second wind slipped away. And when she emerged in the building in the middle of town, she rubbed under her jaw to see if there were burn marks from the shot. Then she slipped out and clambered up onto a roof to slink back into her apartment before anyone saw-not that the few people milling about at that time of night were sober, anyway.
[[her skin was pale and soft and new like always]]
The second time she shot herself, she curled up on the floor and put the gun in her mouth like it was her favourite candy.
The third time was when it began to feel familiar. The last little bits of breath seeped from her mouth as she shook, cold and sad and relieved by the pain, shook so hard that even though the gun was still in her hand the bullets inside rattled, and Krieg stood in the doorway without a word, watching her begin to still. When she saw him out of the corner of her eye, she paled and the little Maliwan jumped from her curled fingers. Her lips parted like she'd say his name, or apologize, or explain, but nothing came out. Nothing needed to. He went forward and crouched down beside her because he knew.
"Monster goes down," he began matter-of-factly, voice low and gentler, "and angel gets up."
[[as if it was the most obvious statement in the world]]
And then the air was back in her lungs and the pain was gone from the back of her head and he had fallen back to sit heavily on the floor, looking weaker than before. She kept her eyes on him for a long moment, and found she couldn't say or think of a single thing. He blinked and held out a large, rough hand to her. So she held it until his breathing went back to normal. And then they sat in silence, with their hands still loosely clasped.
Eventually, Krieg reached out to pick up the Maliwan a few feet away and gave it back to her. He closed both of his hands around hers and the gun.
"Little Man says that…nngh." He scratched under his eye and grimaced, like he couldn't quite think of the right words. "Says we gotta only kill the deserving…Says you're not deservin'. You got the sadness in you. Like us."
[[funny how sadness seems to run in the blood like that]]