Disclaimer: I don't own FF8 or any of it's characters.
So Easy
I looked up at the clock. 4:30 A.M. I sighed and turned over. I hated when I woke up so early and couldn't sleep. It was getting harder to sleep. Harder to stay asleep. I sat up and looked around. So quiet, so dark, so peaceful. I glanced up at my window. It was a cloudy night, I couldn't see the stars. I sighed again and stared at the ceiling. Back at the clock. 4:46 A.M. Time is too slow, I thought. I sought some way to keep busy until it was either time to get up or until I fell asleep again. My eyes drifted to a retracted switchblade knife. The intricate weeved design on it winked at me in the dim light from the window. Quietly, I swung my feet to the floor and walked to the dresser where the knife sat. So many times, it'd become so easy now. I ran my fingers over the scars on my right wrist, then across the cool metal of the switch knife. So easy. I'd done it before. It was hard to hide the scars from them, short sleeves are inconvenient that way. Irvine had been trying to help me, so had the others. He was the only one I ever let close, though, the first who ever saw my scars. They often asked me how I was feeling, went where I went, wouldn't leave me alone. Not that I blame them. They're my friends. They only want to help.
I carefully lifted the knife and pressed the little button that brought the blade upright. Holding it in my right hand, I slid the flat edge of the blade across my left wrist, letting the feel of the cold metal relax me. It was so familiar now, so calming, so easy. Ever since Irvine found me, shivering in a corner, covered in my own blood, he hasn't left me alone. He even comes to check on my some nights, when he can't sleep either. I looked around nervously. If Irvine walked in now, he'd have sent to one of those damned "correction facilities" for sure. No way. I'm never going there, not there, never. I hated those places, people waking you up at 5:30 in the morning to ask you stupid questions that could easily wait until everyone got up. No, never, I'm not going back, I thought. I knew Irvine didn't want to send me there, but I didn't believe him. what could he possibly see in me, a suicidal little red-head? I always figured he'd go out with Quistis or someone like her, not me. Not me.
I tilted the knife ever so slightly against my wrist, the sharp edge biting bitterly into the skin, deeper, drawing blood. Dragging the blade across my wrist, the sharp edge opened a deep cut that stung numbly for a moment, then throbbed with pain. Pain, familiar pain, but still pain, shocked my morning-tired nerves and made me drop the knife. I looked back at the clock, but my mind was so preoccupied I didn't really notice it was 5:05 A.M. It wasn't hard to not scream, but I did bite a good-sized mark in my lip. Now I tasted blood. Saw blood and tasted blood. A sound. What was it? The door! Damn! I had left it unlocked. I ran to the small bathroom and tried to hide the cut. Not that I could, but pain has that kind of effect, I guess. I was definitely awake, and aware that someone was there, at the door, trying to get in, trying to see me, get to me. Irvine, it had to be him. No one was ever here this early but him. I looked back, pale from pain, eyes fuzzy, must be the morning effect. Had to be. I saw the knife, saw the trail of blood, my wrist, my torn lip in the mirror. I went back and grabbed the knife just as the door opened. It was still dark, I couldn't see much. "What are you doing?!" a deep voice, heavy, loud, angry, afraid. "Put it down!" I must have been holding the knife, it didn't really occur to me. "Someone help! Get Dr. Kadowaki!" I was shivering. Cold? Yes, cold. Arms, strong arms, around me, carrying me, out the door, down the hall. Lights, everywhere, bright hall lights. Shouting in my head, No! Not again! Carbuncle. He was always talking to me, cheering me up. I was tired, I hadn't slept well lately. Selphie, stay awake!, Shiva this time. "Hang in there!" that voice again, far away, like once before. Dark, dark everywhere. The lights? Where? Irvine? I was vaguely aware of being laid down. Were we at the infirmary already? "Why is she talking to herself?" another voice, lighter,a woman's. "It must be her GFs. Just get some help," a different voice. Was I talking? I didn't know, so tired. I looked up. A face, familiar, light, concerned. My vision blurred, I was shaking again. Stress did that. Seizures, I'd forgotten my medicine for them. I started to become a little more aware, aware of people around me, talking to me. What were they saying? Strong hands held my hands, lighter ones brushed through my hair. "She's seizing!" another voice, older. The strong hands I'd felt wrapped around me. I was shaking, more violently now. Everything went dark. Everything. Sweet darkness. So familiar, so quiet, comforting, serene. So easy.