Title: To feel nothing

Author: marbienl

Disclaimer: don't own them; they belong to J.R.R Tolkien.

Summary: WARNING!! DARK PIECE! After being teased harshly by some elves, Estel suffers some dark thoughts…

WARNING!!!!

WARNING!!!!

WARNING: this is a really dark piece, not like any of my other pieces. This will probably be the only dark fic I ever write, so don't be scared to read my other stories. This story contains thoughts of self mutilation and suicide. If this squicks you, then DO NOT READ!

A/N: I'd just like to explain that Estel is coming down with a migraine. It's true that before it comes, people can lose their temper real easily and get depressed, besides the other symptoms one obviously has when getting a migraine. Ok… just to clear that up. So keep in mind that because of this, Estel is not thinking clearly.

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A fifteen year old Estel ran to his room and locked the door behind him, running to his bed and throwing himself on it. He hugged his knees to his chest and bit his lip as he tried to keep from crying out – what were the tears for anyway? He'd been teased before by the other elves, this was nothing new, so why the tears?

He raised his hands to his head, trying in a futile effort to keep the pounding headache from getting any worse and quickly dropped them as he noticed them shaking badly.

He bit his lip – determined not to cry, but it was of no use. Warm tears flowed from his eyes to land on his bed with a soft sound.

Angrily, he wiped the tears from his eyes, refusing to sob out loud. Don't be so ridiculous! A voice inside his mind said to him.

But the young human couldn't stop the silver drops from falling. He looked outside his window to the dark landscape, wondering how it would be if he just didn't exist anymore.

No! The voice said again. Tomorrow you'll regret this fit you have, don't do anything foolish!

"But I feel something inside… I don't want to feel…" He whispered into the night.

You could talk to one of your brothers… or to Ada. The voice said softly. They'll listen and be there for you.

"No!" The boy said, angrily wiping the new tears away. "Talking will just make me feel more and then I won't be in control anymore. I don't want to show my emotions to anyone!" He shouted, before ending in a whisper. "I don't want to feel like I do now… I want it to end!"

His eyes darted around his room until they came to rest on one of his hunting knives that he always kept in his room.

No… The voice begged. Don't do it.

And Estel shook his head again. Suicide wasn't an option for him – he was clear enough in his head to realize he would regret it. He was sure that if he tried, he would be found and then his family would think him insane and make him talk about what drove him to it. Besides, it was weak to kill yourself.

"Like Isildur was weak… I do not want to follow in his weakness." He murmured.

You don't have to be so drastic to be free of this emotion you feel...Another, darker voice told him, almost seducing him, weaving a spell that made him want to follow this voice. Why don't you just use it for something else? Just take the knife… come on – take it!

As if in a daze, Estel walked towards the knife and picked it up. "But my brothers… Ada… they will see what I did if I do it. "

Then do it where it does not show… The new voice almost sang.

No, don't! You know you'll be sorry –

YES, the new voice interrupted, do it, just hold it against your stomach. Just push the tip in and feel it…

Estel did what the voice said, lifting his shirt and pushing the tip of the knife in his soft belly. It hurt when it broke the skin, but surprisingly – he liked it. His previous emotion was forgotten now that he had something else to focus on.

Please… the first voice begged. Stop this, it's not too late!

Estel just moved the tip in further – the pain felt exhilarating!

Stop being such a WEAKLING! The first voice yelled. You don't want to be weak, so don't act it!

As if slapped in the face, Estel jerked and dropped the knife. It fell to the floor with a clatter, small blood drops clinging to the sharp point. He looked down at his belly and held his fingers against the small cut – feeling the sticky substance of his own blood.

Yes… the dark voice hissed, it felt good, didn't it? Why don't you do it again? Come on… you know you want to.

"I do…" Estel whispered, in conflict with himself – cursing his foul headache for not leaving him able to think clearly or logically. Instead of going away, it was only getting worse and even the little light from the lit candles in his room felt like they were trying to blind him while burning out his eyes.

He wanted to feel nothing, no grief at any rate. Grief… for what?

He bent down to retrieve the knife… his heart fluttering wildly in his throat when he though of the relief it had given him.

Yessss…

Weakling!

Estel picked the sharp instrument up and examined it. The voice was right – it was weak.

So what? It gives you what you want? Do it!

The young boy closed his eyes and clenched his teeth. The knife hovered over his belly for what seemed to be indefinitely…

Then, as if coming to a sudden decision, Estel laid the knife back on the table – giving it a quick wipe with one of the rags he used to clean it with – to clear off the blood. He then bound a small piece of cloth against the cut to stem the bleeding; not wanting any drops to fall on the floor or to get on his shirt.

Suddenly dizzy, Estel almost fell to the floor, but he managed to grab hold of the table with one hand; waiting for the fit to pass. He walked past every candle and blew them out, sighing in relief as darkness surrounded him.

He walked towards his bed and lay down. It felt like angry orcs were beating on one side inside his head with all the strength they had.

Knowing that a painkiller would not help for this kind of headache, Estel closed his eyes – silver tears running down his cheeks as the pain became too much.

And like this he waited for the darkness of sleep to envelope him completely and to bring relief…

)()()()()(

THE END