I|M|P|U|L|S|I|V|E

I stare at the blood. Then the blade. Then the blood again. I have become so impulsive… it just happened. I didn't mean for it to. I had just been so upset… and the next thing I knew, I was in the kitchen with a knife in one hand, blood running down my wrist, and tears falling from my eyes down to my chin, then dripping onto the floor.

I let go of the knife, and it clatters to the floor. I hear something—someone—behind me gasp softly. "Chiara?"

Silence. That's what filled the room. Then, footsteps. "G-go away," I stutter out.

"Nein. Why did you do this?" He gently grabs my arm and stares at it, assessing the damage.

I shake my head, weakly pulling away. "It just sort of happened."

He sighs. "That's how it always starts, isn't it?" His arm wraps around my waist, the other going back to my arm, holding it in front of me. I don't fight back this time, almost letting myself be comforted by the fact someone wants to help. Almost. This is one of the potato idiots, after all.

We're walking through the house, into the tiny bathroom. He lets go of me now, reaching to the top of the towel wrack and grabbing a clean wash cloth. I stop watching him for a moment, instead staring at myself in the mirror. I look like a mess. My hair is tangled into endless knots, my face is covered in tear stains. When did this happen? I blink, being pulled out of my thoughts, releasing a small whimper without realizing it. "Shh," he comforts, pressing the wash cloth onto the cut.

He works on stopping the bleeding and bandaging it. "Please, Chiara, promise me you won't do this again?"

I shake my head. "I didn't mean to. I can't control it if it does happen again."

The albino pulled his sleeve back and showed me his own wrist, covered in scars. "You don't want to end up like this, do you?"

No, I don't. But I know I will. I've managed not to do this for years. Now I have, and it felt… like relief. Painful, but relief. For only a moment… I was free of pain, through pain.

"Chiara."

Reality. Please, no, stop pulling me back into it. He's standing in front of me now—when did we get back into the living room?—his red eyes full of concern.

The door opens. My sorella walks in, along with the first potato idiot. He's carrying a few plastic bags and walks into the kitchen. Feli moves over to us, a bright smile adorning her face. I give Gilbert a warning look—tell her and I promise I will kill you—but when the smile falls from her face I know she's figured it out. Well, with such a large bandage on my wrist, it's not all that hard to.

"Chiara?" she asks quietly, blinking.

I tug myself from Gilbert's grasp and leave the room, going to my own, closing the door and locking it behind me. I don't move, I just lean against it for the time being. And ever so slowly, I begin to sink. I slide down, and I'm on the floor. I should get up, go to my bed, curl up under the covers, and fall into a deep sleep, but I can't bring myself to move. I hear them speaking in hushed voices. About me, of course.

"Sorella?" There's a knock on the door. I close my eyes. "Please open the door."

I stand, but make no move to answer; instead I walk across the room, rummaging through the bedside drawer. The doorknob jiggles. My search becomes more frantic.

"Sorella, I need to talk to you!"

Next drawer. It's not there. I open the last one, reaching around inside of it. Where is—there. Right there. I pull it out. A gun. Bright and shiny, never used. But loaded.

"Gilbert, Ludwig, I can't get her to answer!"

I turn off the safety.

"Chiara, open the door."

I hold it against my temple, trembling, my finger resting on the trigger.

There's banging. They're trying to force it open. I wait a moment. Should I do this? Yes. No. I don't know. I really don't. But there's no time to think. No time to waist. The door bursts open, I pull the trigger, and the last thing I hear is my sorella's desperate screams to stop me.

And then I angst all over the place. Sorry-

It just happened. Like, she was only supposed to cut, but then she died. Ugh, why did I write that? When I'm in an angsty mood, these characters really have unfortunate fates. :I

Ah, so, yes. That's it. Except, not really, this is a two-shot, which I decided while writing the end. It'll either be Feli's POV or Gilbert's. I don't know yet.

[Also, I will mention to any cutters/self harmers. The butterfly project. Believe me, it works. Look it up, please, don't hurt yourself! You're awesome, even if you don't know it. You. Are. Awesome!]

Now, I need to write the next part. Except sometime within the next like few years, aha-

No, probably the next week or so.

Now, I should go to sleep. It's three in the morning. Past that, actually. Though I don't usually go to bed for another hour and a half over the summer…

Bye guys! Reviews are loooove!