Standard Disclaimers apply
Hidden Scars
Chapter 1: Crazy? Who me?
Am I crazy? Probably. Do I care? Not one little bit.
My name is Duo Maxwell, gundam pilot and jokester extraordinaire. My days are spent either on missions or keeping my fellow gundam pilots amused with my absurdity. My nights, however, are spent in a completely different manner than the nightly function of sleep. Instead, I lock myself in my room, sitting in only a pair of boxers, with a razorblade in my hand. My trusty friend; it enables me to chase away my worries, fears, and most importantly, my pain. The pain of being who I am; of the horrible things that I have done; and the things I know I should have done but never bothered to try. There are so many things that I wish I could change; there is so much guilt and I don't know how to cope with it all. That is why I find myself in my current position, on my bedroom floor, blood slowly snaking its way down my arms and thighs.
I wonder what the others would think if they saw me like this. Would they be disgusted? Concerned? Shocked? Would they even care? I don't see why they would. If I were them, I wouldn't care about me either. But if they did know, what would I tell them. "Gee guys, I was just curious about how it felt. It's no big deal." Yeah, that would go over well. But how does one explain that the reason they go about slicing and dicing their own skin is because they feel utterly and completely empty inside? It's not an easy thing to explain unless the other person has been in that position themselves.
It's true though, I feel completely hollow. Like there is a large gaping hole somewhere inside of me and no matter how hard I try, I just can't seem to fill it or make it any smaller. It just seems to keep growing the harder I try to resist it. It is fed by my feelings of loneliness, neglect, worthlessness, and hurt….everything that I have felt over the course of my life.
I sigh and slowly stand up, pausing to let the dizziness pass before heading to the adjoining bathroom. I stop in front of the mirror and survey the new damage I've inflicted upon myself. The new cuts stand out in stark contrast to my pale skin. The angry red lines criss-crossing with the pink and white lines of older, half-healed and scarred cuts. I sigh again and step out of my boxers and into the shower to clean myself up. It wouldn't do to develop an infection. I watch in mild fascination as the water slowly turns an odd shade of pink as it collects near the drain, only to disappear from sight an instant later. I don't know how long I stand there, a steady stream of warm water falling on my shoulders, helping to relax me; but I finally turn the water off and step out onto the plush carpet. I go to the medicine cabinet, grab the antibacterial cream and head back to my room.
After applying the cream and a bandage or two to some of the deeper wounds, I flop unceremoniously onto the fluffy mattress that Quatre has in each bedroom of his large estate. I roll over onto my stomach and holding my arms out in front of me, look at the network of scars, scabs, and angry red lines.
"I wish things were different," I whisper brokenly to the empty room. "I never meant for it to get this bad."
It's true; I never thought that I would spend every night and sometimes days, locked away in my room with a bloody razorblade, clutched like a lifeline in my fist. I feel like screaming, crying, anything to let out how I'm feeling or give some indication to the others that I am anything but okay. Instead, I roll over and close my eyes, waiting for the restless sleep, I know will come, to overtake me.
I wake to the sound of someone knocking lightly on my door.
"Duo? Duo are you awake?" I hear Quatre call quietly. Sitting up, I stretch my arms above my head and slowly clamber off the bed. I throw a sweatshirt on to cover my arms and then open the door to the small, smiling blonde.
"Good morning Quatre. What's going on?" I ask as cheerfully as I possibly can.
"I just wanted to let you know that breakfast is ready," he smiles gently at me.
"Ok, I'll be down in five," I reply as I go back into my room to get some sweatpants on and to brush and re-braid my tangled mass of hair before finally making my way downstairs to the very large kitchen. The others are already sitting at the table when I walk in. I grin.
"Hey guys! What's for breakfast?" I ask as I pull out my chair and sit, trying my best to be my usual bouncy, hyperactive self. They all roll their eyes at me and start passing plates piled with bacon, eggs, and an assortment of breakfast pastries. As expected, I pile my plate high with food and begin shoveling food into my mouth at an alarming speed, even though I have absolutely no appetite and the thought of food makes my stomach churn.
"Any plans for the day guys?" I ask in between mouthfuls of egg.
"I'm going to visit some of my sisters. They're on L4 for a few days," Quatre says cheerfully.
"That's cool! What about you guys?" I ask looking to Heero and Wufei.
"We have a mission and we'll most likely be gone for a few days," Heero replies in his icy monotone.
"Trowa?" I ask looking to the quiet Heavyarms pilot. He shrugs.
"Staying here. Maybe making a few modifications to Heavyarms' system."
I nod. "I'm gonna veg out all day. You don't care if I raid your movie library do ya Quat?"
"Of course not Duo. Take whatever you'd like," he says with a bright smile.
"Awsome! You're the best!" I reply energetically.
Once breakfast is done, we all go our separate ways, and I immediately head for Quatre's very large entertainment room. After picking several movies out, I put one it and, grabbing a blanket, curl up in the large overstuffed arm chair that I pulled over to face the television. Somewhere between the opening credits and the first five minutes of the movie, I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I know, there is a gently shake of my shoulder and the movie is over. I look up groggily at Trowa and smirk slightly; although, it probably looks more like a grimace than a smirk.
"What's up Trowa?" He gives me half a smile.
"It's 12:30. I was wondering if you wanted some lunch. You've been sleeping for almost four hours. Did you not sleep well last night?" he asks a slight hint of concern in his voice.
I shrug. "I slept alright. I'm just not feeling too well today. I think I might be coming down with something," I lie smoothly.
"Well, I think soup for lunch is a good idea then," he replies quietly as I follow him into the kitchen. I perch myself on one of the stools at the island and watch as he moves about getting out a pot and a can of soup. I let my mind wander and only snap back to the present when a hand is waved in front of my face.
"You were pretty far away there. What were you thinking about so intently?" Trowa asks, curiosity lacing his words. I blush and look at my hands.
"Nothing really. Just spacing out," I reply, as he sets a bowl of soup in front of me.
"Are you sure you're feeling ok. You seem really out of it today?" My blush deepens at his comment.
"I'm fine. Really, it's nothing."
It figures, the one who rarely every speaks picks today to be talkative. Why can't he just leave me alone. I mentally slap myself for even thinking that. He's just concerned about me, no need for me to be snippy, even if it is just in my thoughts.
"Want to watch the next movie with me?" I ask by way of apologizing for my horrible thoughts. Even though he doesn't know what I'm thinking, it makes me feel better just asking.
"Sure. Why not?" he replies with a small smile.
"Great! Let's get started then," I reply ecstatically as I bounce back into the entertainment room, Trowa trailing behind at a more subdued pace.
"Which one do you want to watch?" I ask as I hold up three movies. He surveys them before picking one and moving to put it in. I smile to myself. He picked the one I wanted. I love Interview With A Vampire. I grab my blanket and plop myself down on the couch. Trowa follows and sits on the couch as well. About half way through the movie I yawn widely and start to feel a little groggy.
"Trowa? Can I use you as a pillow?" I ask quietly. He nods and I rearrange myself so that my head is now in his lap. He unconsciously starts to run his fingers through my hair and I slowly start to drift into sleep; but before I do, I say something that is completely out of character for even me.
"Thank you Trowa. It means more than you know that you stayed home today. Thank you…"
"You're very welcome," he says quietly. "I care about you Duo, and I just want to see you happy again."
My eyes snap open at that statement. "What do you mean 'see me happy again'? I'm happy right now," I say defensively. He just looks at me for a moment, his one visible green eye seeing straight through me.
"No. You're not," he replies. "Your eyes don't sparkle like they used to when you were happy. I know that something is wrong…" he trails off without finishing the statement.
I study him for a minute. Then it hits me. He knows something is wrong and he is not ignoring it like I thought he would. He really does care. Here he is, showing that he's concerned. Knowing this makes me feel…I can't even explain what it feels like. Then suddenly, I'm overcome with panic. What if he finds out my secret? What will he do? How will he react? I don't want to find out. I need to get out of here; I need to go to my room; to get escape Trowa's piercing green gaze. I slowly stand and walk a few paces toward the door.
"I'm gonna go upstairs and take a nap," I explain, clenching my fists nervously at my sides. Trowa stands and walks over to me.
"Duo, let me help you please. If you want to talk or anything, I'm always here for you. Just please, let me help you," he pleads, the desperation evident in his voice. I feel bad making him worry, causing him any kind of pain. Yet another thing that is my fault. But I can't stay here. I can't risk him finding out and deciding he doesn't want to deal with it. Or even worse, deciding he doesn't want to be my friend anymore. I turn to head upstairs to take refuge in my blade, but I pause in the doorway and look back at him.
"It's too late. You can't help me. No one can. I'm beyond help." My words are no louder than a whisper as I turn and quickly flee to the solace of my room.