(Warning, major OOC and Depression.)
Mai's POV 3
I used to tell myself I will be happy no matter the past. I would look at cutter and think, "Why?" I could not comprehend the possibility of a human enduring such pain. I used to judge them from a distance. If only I knew of what I go through today.
Because of my past I can no longer judge anyone. I play a smile upon my rose colored lips, and no one, not even the SPR crew, can know of this depression I really contain.
I, myself, am a cutter.
After a year of feeling shut out of my loved ones love, lost without a mother, and silly from being outcasted, I created a friend. He was perfect. I would come home, or what I claimed to be home, and cry to him about my day. It was always the same. I was bullied, teased, and hated on. He, my imaginary friend, would tell me sweet nothings as I desperately wished he could hold me. I loved him.
He betrayed me.
He wanted me hurt. At the time, I did not know it. I created him to help me smile after all. He told me the ultiment pleasure of being happy. He told me to grab my razor and mark my skin, and mark my skin I did. My views in romance have been ruined by my own twisted imagination.
After a while, I did it for the escape of my own emotions. I only felt the sweet pleasure of pain on my flesh. I loved my body. My thighs, stomach, hips, arms, and face were decorated with the mark of depression. I looked like a red and white zebra. I was beautiful.
Another year and it grew to be a need. I needed to see my blood. I needed the metallic taste in my mouth. I needed to scar my body, but never was it a need for attention. That was the last thing I needed.
You know what the sickest part of my agony was? I refused to take fault for it. Not even when I met Naru, Bou-san, John, Ayako, Masako, or Lin. Their pains go deeper than mine in a cursed world they were born into. Gifted, however, like I found myself to be.
It's all how you see yourself I suppose, when your placed in a situation of misery. I see myself as a mistake. A disappointment.
... Crazy.
I cannot sleep well. I know I am sleeping when I do sleep, and when I dream it is murder. When I wake it is pain.
I am so tired of people not believing me. I am tired of being a disappointment. More importantly, I am tired of flaunting around acting so clumsy and giggly; when in reality, I think I may be dead.
My best friend knew about the scars that mark my stupidity. She knew I thought of myself as stupid. "They don't make you stupid," she had said. "They just mark you as hurt."
She had told the counselor that day, and I wanted her to. I wanted help, god how I wanted it. I was terrified of the idea though. I didn't want people to know about this. It is what I needed though, to get through it.
The word spread about my depression though. Every single one of my friends were finding out. I even got yelled at by one of them once when I was so sure one guy was helping me, and he was! She told me, "I have been through that once. We can make it go away. No one else but us!"
He helped me realize I was seeing things wrong, even when he was making me feel useless. And that is why I am struggling to see what is right, because to him, Kazuya, aka Naru, pushed reality at my feet.
She did not understand the pain I felt ease as he sat across from me every night. Or the butterflies he caused when he would show me something rare: a smile, hope, and the tracings of love itself. And those moment, I hate yet charish, as he rings me in for tea.
She did not understand how much her words had angered me. Did she not think I was trying? I had stopped once, sure. You should have seen my face a week later. It was bruised and scratched. I had to lie to half of my class mates by saying I got in a fight, and lost. Unbelievable, yes, because I am the innocent one in our grade. Naru would stare at me, examining my traits as the days gone by after my bruised face. He watch my movements. At nights, when he was sure I was asleep, he would creep up towards and silently ask me what it was I was hiding.
No one understands really, and Naru may be the closest I have to reconization. After all, there has to be a reason he hardly smiles and drives himself towards being a workaholic. I wish I could actually believe that, however. I wish I could see that there are people just like me. People like my friend cannot see why it is so hard to not do what I do. I am still struggling with it!
Help.. how many times am I going to silently ask for that? I have tried helping myself. I have stopped cutting all together after Kazuya became suspicious of me. However, I am sure if I get a hold of a razor, I will end up in a hospital.
And one day, I felt a pain greater than mine. The day I forced Kazuya to do something for himself. That day, I felt so much emotion. I stayed by him, I apoligized and cried as he slept. I tested him to his full potential, and after that I began appreciating the smallest things he orders us to do. Even if it does annoy me to an extent.
But I knew.. I knew he had felt the same pain I drown in everyday. That is why it was so easy to accept him. To love him like I knew I did.
I wonder if those feelings are what carried my feet to his office while everyone had gone home. I had too at one point, but ended up coming back with a feeling of loneliness. Because within seconds I was able to knock on his door in my robe, careing those feelings of love and depression. Within minutes, I was sitting on his floor. And now he is looking at me, worried, annoyed, and in question.
"Naru," I whisper, timid. He huffs. "Why aren't you at hom?"
"You know.. about my stupidity.. my pain," I whisper, nervously fiddling with my robes opening. "Is that what you are calling it?" he says, eyes softening, all knowledge of his anger gone. I stand with shaking legs, pulling the robe back, allowing it to fall to my feet. After all, this is what I came back for. To give him the answer he's been asking me for months. What ever he was expecting when I came into his room, however, was not this. I can tell as his eyes widen, pupils dialated slightly, hiding the midnight shades of his perfect orbs.
I was in nothing but my white undergarments. My flesh is exposed, much for my liking.
But he does not cringe in disgust; he only stares in awe. I trust it is my marks he sees, and when he advances towards me, I feel as though maybe I found acceptance. Not the acceptance that my friends gave when they took pity, but the kind were he understands me.
He stands directly in front of me awe struck. Everything, healing, shows him my trust. And he lightly traces a long scar on my chest, stopping at the tip of my bra. I trust that none of this is sexual, and it isn't. Just a man in pain touching the reality of another's depression.
"Beautiful," he whispers. "That you are recovering, Mai, that's amazing."
"I wish," I sigh. "The pain still burns."
He traces the scabbing wounds on my stomach, not taking his eyes off of the marks like so many others would. "What is it you feel?" he asks.
I smile, and it is small and sad. "You know, every night I lie down questioning everything that has built up to this moment? There are so many doubt.. so many why's, and I wanted to speak to you; to see if you would care to help me." I close my eyes, his hands now wondering on my arm.
"Why do I suffer everyday I do not suffer? Why are my urges to harm myself stronger now that I am at my fake peace? Is that not how this world works? Do I not fake a smile?
"I sometimes wonder if it is because I fantasize about a better life. I would have had to feel pain to want to create a better one though, right?
"That still does not describe why I am so pained, however. I once thought it was all over. I am supposed to be happy. I actually have something to live for. I have the love of a mother, even if she can only smile in her grave. I have the acceptance of my family, my new family; the Sohma's. I have the support of my peers, even if I lost the friendship of many, and best of all, I have the feeling of love spreading through my chest."
This time, he looks into my eyes, a smile, small and graceful, stains his lips. His emotionless eyes, carrying more emotion then I'm used to seeing, pierces into mine. Flecks of grey and blue swirling with such strong passion, I almost forget to finish my speech.
"So why!" I continue. "Is it regret? I do not have many regrets. When I look back all I see is blood and tears. I hardly know the smile I wear now, or atleast attempt to wear. However, the past is the past, and I can try to move on.
"Could that be it? The feeling of past agony? Could it be the addiction of pain itself? I do not want to hurt, yet I sit here broken. Why, why, why? Why do I still hurt?
Maybe I cannot fix what has been shattered. All I can do is substitute it with joy. Maybe it is the fact that I can never really fix my heart."
"That may be," Naru interrupts. "Feelings of past agony often haunt us for eternity or until death, however pain can be sedated."
I grin, placing his hand on my chest. "Do you feel that?" I ask. "My heart pound in my chest? That's all for you. At one time, you needed to hear me accept you, and I did. I guess, I stand here in my self-mutilation, to see if you can do the same."
He snatches his hand back, and picks up my robe, dressing my shoulders once more. But I do not take this as rejection, but part of affection.
"Of course I can accept you, idiot. I have the minute I realized you were hurt," he says, resting his forehead against mine. "You and I have a lot of pain, but you have helped me through mine, even if you never quiet saw it. Now that your here, I won't let you go unhappy."
"Naru, would it be too much if I told you I loved you?"
He laughs, and actual laugh that has his shoulders shaking. "Stupid, you should know I love you as well."
Softly, our lips collide in a passionate kiss. Nothing was too rough or too light. Every bit of emotion clashing perfectly. I have his love, despite the many struggles to come. And he has mine, despite the shattered peices of my heart.