Disclaimer. A really weird one that I came up with. Highschool AU.
How can you explain all the cuts on your body? How can you explain that you fell in love with your sadistic sister and at night, you sleep together and she cuts you and you love every second of it? You don't tell anyone because you can't.
Sweat drops down to your chest and stings the cut just below your breast. You wince but no one notices. The cuts are all strategically placed so that they can be hidden under clothes. There's a misplaced cut on your finger. Belarus did that in excitement, impatient to see blood. She couldn't wait for you strip and cuts you on the finger. Everyone notices the cut and asks.
You smile and lie, "Ah, I cut my finger when cooking." And everyone believes it. They don't know about the scarlet lines on the top of your thighs, on your shoulders or the shallow ones just above your hipbones. The little nicks that on your back that probably spelt a name, yours or her's; you don't know though because you can't twist enough to see it in the mirror.
Everything hurts so deliciously but you can't show it since it'll cause suspicion. You can't have those coming up again. Not since Ivan. Ivan, with his metal pipe, now sent off to that institution. You can't let that happen to your sister. No, since she's your sister and definitely because you love her. Not sibling love, but love.
But sometimes, only sometimes, you wonder what your life would be like without her. You wonder when you became so masochistic. Wonder what if you had no cuts, no pain but then no her. And you can't imagine your life without her anymore. Without those cuts, pain, loving words at night and hiding all of it.
You can't say anything so you smile and lie to everyone else. You always change inside a bathroom stall, but even then, you feel insecure and sometimes change only after everyone else had left.
After school, as you're going to your locker, you catch her eyes. She gives you that smile, the one that promises everything in the night again. You shiver with anticipation, before your friend blocks your view, asking something.
You take a second to realize that she asked "Are you cold?"
You nod and she gives you her jacket. It's hot and stuffy inside it but you wear it. You wonder if she'll be jealous. Probably. You decide to leave the jacket in the locker, already anxious to get home. It doesn't really matter about the jacket; she saw it already and would try to cut you immediately. You'll stop her because you can't afford to buy new clothes. So she'll strip you and cut you lovingly. You'll stand there in your underwear, feeling the cold switchblade carve your skin. Its pain and twisted pleasure at the same time.
You smile at your fantasy, looking forward to the nights with her.