Cracks In The Wall
By DarkHybridChild
Dedicated to: Rose Kitsune.EXE, because she tried to do one of these and gave up on it, but I have succeeded and so this is for you my awesome friend. To Suki, who offered to Beta it for me, but I ran out of time and it'd take even longer, and for just talking with me when the stupid rock here didn't want to be written. This just shows you all the power of psycho-analysis. And to my former self, because if it wasn't for me back then, I doubt I'd have been able to finish this, as I had to go back and re-read an old fiction of mine to help me take a deeper, better look.
It's on days like this I hurt the most. Valentine's Day, Thanksgiving, Christmas, my Birthday...it all hurt. I can't handle it anymore. I've lived my life in isolation, and now that these walls have been torn down and pried from me, leaving me once again exposed to the full pain, I can't take it any longer. It's all his fault! But it's also mine, since I allowed him to do it, I let him slip in past my defenses, and then he tears the walls down and leaves me, not noticing all the feelings and emotions he's stirred up because of it. Just waltzes in, unleashes a hurricane on me, then dances off like nothing happened.
I hate Holidays like these, the days when people get the chance to be together in happiness and love. I never had that luxury often, and it's mainly foreign to me. My family was loving and caring, but we never saw much of one another, and the times were rough. Father always had to work, just to gain enough money for mother and I to eat and get by. It was painful, but I loved it. It's just I was never used to days like this, and whenever it came around it always left this empty, hurt feeling.
Through the years I blocked it out, building my walls up to protect myself, my heart, to keep from feeling it all. I just didn't expect him to tear it all to shreds throughout the times I've known him. It's been...what, years, since I first met him? I don't remember how many, but little by little he just worked his way in, slipping past every defense and barrier with ease, prying them out and dragging me to the surface, much like he did with our other friend.
The only difference is, it only took him about half a year with him, and years on me. Not that he's weak, I just don't give in when people attempt to pry me out. People have tried before and never succeeded, so it's...terrifying, to find someone who has, and has so selfishly exposed me, without even a thought on it.
I've stood this pain for 17 years, and to just have all these walls crashing down, I feel so...helpless. My eyes sting, and I feel like curling up and hiding away, but that just wouldn't be me. So, I attempt to face the day with the same font I always have, ressurecting what barriers I have preserved, just enough to mask and hide everything.
Watching couples and lovers walk by, hand in hand, smiling, watching family being together in love and happiness, it made me envious. And going through this day was very hard, and I know the mask slipped off on more than several ocasions, much more than I'd like to admit, but I can't take it back.
To watch my friends have fun, showing their love for one another, for their friendships, for everything...it made my happy, too, but at the same time, it felt like someone was stabbing me with a knife and twisting it. Coming back to this place I stay at and going inside, I shut the door and lean against it, fighting the back the pain that threatened to manifest and show itself.
Walking into the kitchen, there's a small box of something sitting there. Curious, it was there before I left today... There's a note beside it, and reading it, it made my eyes widen. The hold I had on my emotions just slipped and I crashed to the ground, my eyes stinging as sudden harsh tears form there.
I hadn't cried in years, I was stronger than that! And plus, if I had cried about every painful thing, I don't think I ever would have stopped. But they just slipped down, and I couldn't stop them. Someone just expressed personally that they cared, and the stress of this sudden realization hit me dead on.
They couldn't, they shouldn't! It's not worth it to care about me. Hmph, obviously if they got this far along without me, why bother? I don't want to get near anyone, it's bad enough I'm slowly being exposed to the world again and all it's sins.
Besides, the closer they got to me, the more I'd hurt them, as I am not the emotional type, and with this new unstability, I don't trust myself to get near anyone. There's another reason I hate this day spesfically. I had a best friend when I was a kid, I was nine years old, I think. We were inseperable, and he was going to come over on this day, and I had gotten up extra early to wait. However, later that day Mother came and informed me of what had happened.
It had to have been a joke, couldn't be real! No way in all of this god forsaken place could my best friend be gone! ...But he was. His father had been mentally unstable, and had put him on new medication, and did not keep him in the hosptial to see how he would react... That day, he shot and killed his wife, and children. The youngest child survived barely, I have not heard anything of her since.
At first, I didn't believe it, it couldn't happen! No way, it happened to other people everyday, but never to us! I was numb the entire day, I didn't feel anything at all. Realization really hit when I went to the open service before the burial. It hit me like a ton of bricks. I felt heavy, and I just...couldn't believe it. My best friend was lying dead before me.
However I couldn't cry, couldn't say anything, so I stayed silent, and hid all the pain away. If I couldn't show my tears then, I wouldn't ever. Another reason I hate being around people. I'm a walking curse, everyone I've gotten close to had either died or had something happen to them. It's to painful to think of some other memories I had, especially this one girl I met, who was a friend of mine. She knew him almost as well as I did.
We became friends, and got close, she was like a sister nearly. But fate often rears it's ugly head again right when you're nearly healed and tears the wound open yet again. Turns out, her father was cruelly abusing her and her sister, sexually abusing them, as well as physically. The last I saw of her was the night I dropped her off, hugged her, and told her I'd see her again the next day. However, I didn't... She was put into foster care and I've not seen or heard of her since.
That was years ago, I don't even remember her name hardly, I've suppressed these memories and emotions for so long, and they're just pushing themselves up with no warning, and it feels like my heart is litterally being cut out of my chest and stomped on. These snow-forsaken tears won't stop, they're just falling faster, if anything.
This is just too much. If anyone thought they've had an emotional overload before, then they're obviously not me. Because what I'm feeling right now is the absolute epitome of an emotional overload. And I can't take it anymore. Crawling towards a drawer, unable to stand up, I was shaking so hard.
Opening it up and grabbing the bottle in there and taking the cap off, and pouring out two pills before popping them and tossing my head back, dry swallowing them. Lately things had been getting worse, worse in the sense that these feelings were returning and it was just taking so much energy, and I can't take it.
I'm no coward, and I have high honor, and if anyone said otherwise, I'd either hand their ass to them on a golden platter, or I'd kill them. But this is just too much to bare, this crashing, this weight that's pushing me under. It's so tiring trying to go about day to day now.
I stand up, using the counter a a support as I'm on shaky legs. I give myself a moment to steady myself before I start walking, slowly, back towards the bedroom, to the bathroom, and looking at myself in the mirror.
I look like an absolute train-wreck.
Which is saying something, since I normally look perfect.
I looked over my face, and saw how many emotions were being conveyed on it. A big difference.
At one point in time, I used to agree with others about me being emotionless, and the only thing I ever felt was pain.
My hand reached out, grabbing something on the sink. Of course, you already know what it is, don't you? I'll give you a hint: It's not a toothbrush.
I wondered of all I would ever feel is pain... I have my answer. Yes and no. Yes, mostly all I'm feeling is pain, and yet, there are times I get a feeling other than hurt and pain. I've felt happy, I've felt other emotions, but they just seem so dulled compared to the pain. And the only way I've found to counter that pain, was to create pain of my own. I pull my gloves off, and undo my uniform and slip the shirt off.
My arms are pale, and the underside shows many scars. Oh trust me, not all of them are what I've done to myself; I've grated and scratched my arms on things during more missions than I can count and remember. I'm sick of this pain, this feeling, I don't know if it will ever go away. But if it did, would I really know what to do with myself if it did? Pain's the only thing I can depend on mostly.
I'm not scared of death, and as I said, I'm no coward, despite them saying suicide is a coward's way out. You try living 17 years in my shoes, experiancing everything I did, then I'm sure you'd see why. The blade is sharp still, despite all the years I've used it. Holding it, bringing it to my arm, and just letting it slide, closing my eyes at the pain.
I never enjoyed doing this, but it took my mind off of the other pain, and I guess it's become an addiction, but I don't need to do it every day, I could stop, but then that pain would just bcome even more unbarable. Another mark; deeper, harder, and longer. I could feel it, the warmth of my blood racing to the surface and spilling over. It hurt, but only for a moment. Now I only feel the soft pulsing of my heart and veins as the blood pumps out.
Not that it matters, anyways, at least it distracts me, makes me forget for the time being. Forget the pain of this horrible day, forget the pain of al of these emotions, forget that these damned tears are still falling. Start on the other arm, wincing as pain waved up my arm from the movement of my already cut skin. Ignoring it, I slide it down my arm, sighing in contentment as I feel the blood immediately beginning to rush up.
It feels so odd at times, just to watch it all, but at the same time, it reminds me that I am alive, that I am feeling, that I actually am human. But this time, I don't care anymore. I want this pain to end - permanantly. I can't say I've lived my life to the fullest, but I've lived as long as I can bare.
Sliding the blade along my skin again, making another mark, another crimson line, watching the blood seep up, before rolling down and off my arm, to drip down onto the sink. But I won't stop this time, I can't, because to do that would prove I was weak, a coward. I'm not afraid to die, but I always hesitate when it comes to this, because I begin to think of my friends, wonder how they would feel.
But lately I can't even be bothered to care, it's just too much to try to care, anyways. What did he expect when he tore these walls dowm, anyways? I laughed at that, since I can't answer that in all honesty. He always said he wanted to see what I was really like without the walls, but I never obliged him, because I knew what would happen if I did, but he didn't care.
I guess he's going to find out soon enough, anyways. Another cut, pressing harder, flinching at the sharper pain. I can't hold myself up anymore on these shakey legs, so I slide down to the floor, content just to let these tears fall and let my blood run. It didn't matter anymore, so I had nothing to worry about.
Blood pools on the floor, where I let it run down and drip, becomming bigger. For a brief moment, I wonder what they'd think if they found me, me of all people sitting here on the floor cutting myself and letting my blood run free, knowing full well what I was doing. I think they'd be shocked, since they obviously think I'm so strong and unemotional, that I can handle anything.
Ah well, I guess they'll find out soon enough, too, but I won't be here to see it. My thoughts are starting to blur and jumble a bit, it feels kind of odd to hear myself breathing, it sounds so shallow. I'd raise my brow if I could, but I find I don't even have the strength to do that anymore.
I can't even find the will to smirk, I just let my head tilt back, to rest against the wall as I close my eyes, sighing almost blissfully before I hum quietly.
Knock Knock Knock.
Hn?
Who the hell... Brain not wanting to work... Focus, think. Door knocking, who could it be?
I hear my name being called and I struggled to make myself frown in concentration. I felt so sluggish, so tired. I just wanted to rest, and let myself fall into darkness.
"Go away..." I mutter quietly, though I know they couldn't hear it. I hear footsteps right ouside the door and a knock on it, the voice questioning if I was in here. I would laugh if I could; but all I can muster is a snort. I wondered briefly if I should answer them, but shrugging and letting my eyes closed.
Knock Knock Knock.
They were calling my name and I felt irritated, though that was slowly fading as I saw dark spots going across my vision. "What?" I managed to say loud enough.
I didn't expect for him to bust the door in and storm in. Nor do I think I expected his reaction. His eyes widened, and he started yelling at me , immediately beginning to take things out of the cabinent. I would roll my eyes if I could. Always the mother hen... I sighed softly and closed my eyes again, but I knew that he was too late, I didn't have the will to care anymore.
I could feel his hand on my cheek, with him talking to me, trying to get my attention, but I just didn't want to give it to him. But then he used a tone I had never heard from him before. "Look at me."
My eyes fluttered open and I looked blearily at him, dark and white spots across my vision. I could hardly move at all now. "Don't bother with me, I'm tired of it all," I managed to mumble, though I could see the confusion on his face. I could see the tears in his eyes, running down and though it hurt, and it took alot of effort, trying to get my hazy brain to cooperate, but I managed to bring my hand up to his face and hold it there to look at me, into my eyes as I tried my best to convey every last feeling and thoughts I had.
I heard the soft gasp and I laughed softly. "You said you always wanted to see the real me," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "Here it is." His tears fell more and he brought his hand up to take mine and held it. He obviously didn't care about my blood getting on him, because he hugged me. He didn't have to say anything to me anymore, and he knew it.
He finally understood how I was. I guess that was the reason he tore me out of my shells, was so he could understand. He pulls away and gives me a watery smile, but I could feel my eyes becoming heavy, I felt so heavy, I just wanted to sleep, to give into the sweet darkness that was tempting me. And I heard my breathing, it was even shallower... I barely heard him say his apology, and barely registered the kiss he placed on my lips, but I do know the last thing I heard made all the pain I ever felt leave me as I finally slid into black oblivion.
"Happy Valentine's Day, Laika, I love you..."
BWAHAHAHAHA I DID IT! Here you go, Rose. A Laika suicide fic. The first of it's kind. Not to mention Netto/Laika to boot. -snorts- Ah well. Funny thing about the title of this fic, I re-read my old Kaiba-suicide fic and it helped me look better at Laika's character because we /all/ know he has the personality of a rock. But I started thinking harder, more towards the little things and found a a few flaws in his rock-like personality. Hence the title. XD I am so proud. XD Review, onegai?