One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Four red parallel lines ran across her arm, perfectly straight across. She cut another. She smiled as she saw the blood drip off her arm to the floor. Scarlet splashed across the white towel as more blood continued fall from her arm. Raven wiped the remaining blood off and lit some candles with a match, basking in the dim light that hit her face. She shook her hand blowing the match out. She dabbed a now bleeding cut near her hand with the clean edge of the bloodied cloth. Faded cuts, now permanent scars, were still visible behind the crude fresh ones.
A mistake. One horrible mistake; that she would never forget.
These cuts were a reminder and also a distraction for that mistake. Cutting helped her forget, but only momentarily, because each time she saw the scars she would remember what she did. She didn't want remember, but she always did. Her mistake drove her to this. Cutting. It was once a distraction, now an addiction. She couldn't stop, even if she wanted. She loved it too much, the rush and adrenaline of seeing the blood fall from the fresh cut. She loved it. It was her very own personal drug. The only thing she lived for. It temporarily stopped her suffering from the memory of her mistake. Though it was still there, it didn't matter hard she tried, she couldn't forget it. Cutting was her way to escape from reality. Her only way out from the normal world since Nevermore was no more. She lost connection with her soul selves a long time ago, a few weeks before Raven lost her powers. They were there the night before, but then, the next day they were just, gone. She hadn't only lost her powers, but another thing too. Raven had no control over her emotions at all anymore, for she had none; she felt nothing. The only thing she felt was pain, pain from being alone too long. She was tired of being cut off and blind from the world around her. Sometimes there was a few seconds of happiness or anger, but then once again there was nothing. She couldn't laugh, couldn't cry, she could barely even smile anymore, and all because of the mistake.
One mistake. One small, stupid mistake, the one mistake that screwed up her life, completely. She couldn't help fight. She couldn't heal anyone. She couldn't do anything but hold them back, slow them down and be a burden. Robin had insisted that she stayed. Why did that jerk make her stay? Why hadn't listened to her? If she left she could have forgotten all that happened. Started a new life, a normal one. Instead she stayed here, with the people she was with when she made the mistake. There was no way out of the hellhole she created for herself, except, for one. One way that she tried but never went through with it. The mere thought of it haunted her, scared her, scared her out of her skin; but she still thought it might work, could work. No, it would work, but did she really want to do it? It would end her problems. It was a simple way; anyone could think of it, anyone could do it. Why didn't she do it? 'Why?' That one question she asked herself every day. It was the question that got her thinking digging down to forgotten memories, untouched secrets, dark wishes. She wished she could forget, forget everything, forget everything she had done. Raven wanted to undo everything she had done wrong in life, but mostly she wanted to fix the mistake, that one mistake.
It was ironic really; she had made the mistake to escape pain, but making that mistake gave her more pain than she would have had if she hadn't made the made the mistake at all. So it was just another screw up of Raven's. Messing up her life more and more each day, pushing her further from any chance to fix her , she had no chance of fixing her life. She could only mess it up more, which lead her to the one conclusion: to use her only way out, the one way. That way was death. Death would solve all of her problems, but yet, it didn't. She was already dead. Dead inside. She had been, for over a year, a long time, dead since she made the mistake. Time had stopped then for her. She had let death in without a thought and embraced it. But she was still here, dragging on. Breathing and living. She was the walking dead. If she had really died and gone to rot in hell she wouldn't have so many regrets, because she would feel punished for her mistakes like she should have been. It would be easier if she were physically dead. Now she was just a useless heap of skin and bones with no soul, no explanation or reason for anything. Her soul had abandoned her the day she died. Leaving her without hope. With it, her inner self took all emotion, her reason to live, everything. Everything she had, could have, would have had; but why didn't it take her with it. Why? Now, she was like a battery, a battery with barely 5 percent left and no charger. She was a bottle, almost empty, an abandoned child, a waste. She was already dead on the inside, how long until she was dead on the outside too? The answer, she was already dying on the outside, right now, but very slowly. She could end it fast, instead of waiting for almost forever. Suicide. She had already tried it. It didn't work. She just couldn't do it then. She had held the gun to her head, finger on the trigger, but she hadn't pulled it. She just couldn't bring herself to do it.
Raven knew every single one of the titans would be fine without her. Cyborg wouldn't care; neither would Beast Boy. Starfire, she might be affected for a few days, but then again, she was extremely emotional.
Robin.
Why would he care? He has Starfire. Raven meant nothing to him, especially him. Raven was alone, and she knew it. Memories of the time she had spent with them, the titans, before the mistake, they were gone, those memories, gone forever. She would never be able to remember them, she would never want to. Would she? Raven felt something. For once in the last year, she felt something. The same feeling she used to have after saying her mantra, the three words that had triggered her powers from within all those times before. She almost had a grip on her powers. Returning maybe? What would happen if they came back would she become a titan again? No. She wouldn't. She couldn't. She couldn't ever be a Teen Titan again. The thought of her powers returning, that two second hope she had; it withered up and died. Raven had to forget about the past she had known once. It didn't matter anymore. She had to run away from that choice, leave it, destroy it, and forget it, because it wasn't a choice. Not anymore. She lost that chance long ago, and she would never have it again. Ever. She had lost it when she started lying to herself, too many lies, too many times. She had convinced herself there was nothing left for her. That lie, that one lie, had now turned into the truth, and she couldn't change it. Another mistake. She was living somewhere worse than hell, a living world of mistakes, all her own.
Raven realized she had screwed up her life many times over and over again. She had gotten what she wanted, and that want, was another mistake. She had wanted to be normal. She wanted no part in helping people, no demonic powers. Just to be a normal, human being. She was that now, but just a broken one. She had no powers and she couldn't help people. But, she was addicted, cut, emotionless and empty inside. She didn't want to be broken; she wanted to be whole and perfect. She wanted it so badly. Too badly. She wanted to be pretty, happy and kind. But she wasn't. She tried, but she remained ugly, creepy, sad and sardonic. She had to forget those useless memories and thoughts. She had thought it in vain and she regretted it. Now it didn't matter, she had to tell herself that. She was nothing. She was a whisper, barely there at all.
Raven had to tell herself that she didn't matter anymore.
She was just an empty shell.
Nothing.
Forgotten.
Useless.
A disgrace.
Alone.
A waste.
Abandoned.
And it would stay like that. She was just a dead raven, fallen on the side of the road, to be run over, mauled, crushed. Because no one cared, and they shouldn't, she wasn't worth it. She was nothing. She was not worth the trouble of being liked, maybe even loved. No one should have to know her, she would just end up getting them hurt, disappoint them. She was not worth it, for she, Raven, was nothing.
There was no point in living anymore. Raven knew that now. She wished she could have known what pain her mistake would have caused her. It would have helped a lot; she wouldn't be alone right now, because she wouldn't have made the mistake. Raven had tried so hard to hide her mistake, but she couldn't. Somehow they still found her and ate at her inside, burned her inside, killed her inside. She tried to fight it but she lost. So she gave up and had got what she deserved; Raven and her friends grew apart, she started avoid them and they hadn't seemed to noticed. And now she was isolated in her own living hell. She ran the razor hard across the soft flesh of her arm, not caring how deep she cut. Blood welled from underneath the razor. Raven had given up, for the millionth time in her life. She winced as the sharp razor left a deep, thick cut, deeper than she had wanted. She was nothing, worthless, a waste. She ran the razor across her thigh, again and again.
Nothing, worthless, a waste.
She moved lower on her thigh, cutting more vulnerable, unmarked skin.
Nothing, worthless, a waste.
She wiped off the razor. Raven had carved the phrase 'I am nothing' messily across her thigh, it was crudely done, but it made a statement clear. Blood dripped and she breathed in the harsh scent of it with a faint smile on her face. She then cut any open skin left on her arms and legs, and then left her sleeves rolled up; wanting to see the mess she made herself. She stared at her shredded, bleeding limbs. Her small burst of happiness faded away.
Nothing, worthless, a waste.
She couldn't explain the mess of blood to the other Titans, so why not, make more? Raven knew there was nothing left for her anymore. She had left this off long enough. She wasn't afraid to die. The thought of death didn't even make her flinch. She would do it this time. She knew now was the time to do it. She was alone, no one cared about her, she would be doing everyone else a favor, herself a favor. There would be no more pain. She could escape now.
"Without second thoughts this time. This time I'll do it." Her voice was a hoarse whisper. She raised her voice a bit louder. "I'll be helping others for the first time in a long while. Getting rid of myself for them, all they'll have to do is clean up my blood."
She imagined her once friends, starring down at her dead body in disgust. "Would that happen? Would they look at me like that?" Raven thought to herself, thinking of Cyborg, Starfire, Beast Boy and Robin frowning down on her bloody, cut limbs. Then, them reading the crude message carved on her thigh. "Do they hate me?"
"Yes," Said a voice deep down inside her empty core. "They hate you. They'll be glad you did the dirty work for them. Help them; help them by doing this one thing for them. Getting rid of yourself, they might give you a decent burial if you get it over with now."
'This isn't for them. I hate them, I don't care about them, and they don't care about me. This is for me, it is my choice, and this has nothing to do with them." Raven said quietly, hate in her words. Sadness and rage stirred inside her. " I am nothing!" She shouted and reached for the loaded gun. She held it, hands trembling. Tears filled her eyes. For the first time in a year, she actually cried.
She just couldn't do it then. She had held the gun to her head, finger on the trigger, but she hadn't pulled it. But this time she did.