Alright, so this is going to be a series of unrelated oneshots set in the Broken universe. They can be from any of the three stories, any scene, any characters, etc. You guys have free reign in these requests, take advantage of it. Warning - these are definitely going to contain spoilers from all three stories, so I wouldn't read this if you're not up to date in those. Anyway, this first request was to do the scene where Riker tries to kill himself. I believe they said to do the aftermath, but the aftermath was written in the story, so I'm gonna assume they meant to write the suicide scene from Riker's perspective? If not, let me know, and I'll do this request again. Anyway - heavy trigger warning for suicide, depression, anxiety, and self-harm. Please be careful, this is extremely triggering.
This has been a long time coming.
The thing about suicide is that it creeps up on you. The desire for death sneaks up on you like a wild animal stalking its prey. You don't think much of it, until you're standing in front of a busy road, wishing to be hit by a car, or looking at a bottle of pills like it's the answer to everything. You don't realize you're suicidal until you realize how fucked up you are.
Maybe that explains why I'm here, sitting against the bathroom wall, with my blade poised over my wrist, just thinking. It's harder when you're thinking about killing yourself. Making the decision to cut isn't as big of a deal. It's not a life or death decision. The first time I ever cut myself, I did it so shallowly. It was a mere scratch that barely bled. Contemplating that is nothing compared to contemplating whether I really want to go through with a plan that won't allow me to be here tomorrow.
I know the risks. I know how high of a chance there is that it won't work. It'd be much easier to just swallow pills or jump off something, but Ryland killed himself by jumping off the roof of our house, after swallowing an entire bottle of pills. And Rocky tried to just do the former, which didn't work. I don't want to try either method – it's almost like they're tainted because of what my brothers have tried to do. I know Ratliff tried slitting his wrists too, but he said afterwards that it was completely impulsive. He didn't go deep enough to kill himself. I'm going to do it right.
That is, if my conscience will fucking let me. This is why I hate attaching myself to people. It always gets in the way of things like this. Every time I've been this close to doing it, a thought of my siblings ruins my plan. I'm sick of feeling guilty for wanting to end my pain. It's been so fucking long, and I've tried to wait it out, but it's evident that nothing is going to get better. They say it takes time, but time has passed, and nothing has happened. So I'm chalking them up to be fucking liars.
"Fucking coward, just fucking do it already." Talking to myself isn't as weird when I've stopped caring. Nothing will matter anymore, not after I'm dead. Besides, the entire house is asleep. We stayed up so late playing pool – I'm definitely alone at the moment, and thank god for that. This is the perfect moment for something like this, and if it were to get ruined by someone waking up because they have to pee, I'd be so fucking done.
My mind is racing, almost as fast as my thundering heart. The combination is heinous. The problem with having depression and anxiety, is that depression makes me not want to care about anything, but anxiety makes me care too much about everything. Having both is a recipe for disaster. And I'm done with the chaotic disaster my life has turned into. It's just obstacle after obstacle, fix one thing, the next thing fucks up. My life is just a vicious cycle of fuck ups and relapses and it needs to fucking end.
A part of me just wants to get up and slip back into bed with Rydel, but I can't back out now. Not when I've already gotten this far. I'd hate myself even more if I gave up now. Stupid fucking wimp, can't even kill himself without his anxiety turning it into something way bigger than it actually is. I've wanted this for so long, and I'm sure I'll want it the second I leave this bathroom. I'll regret not doing it, and hate myself for backing out yet again. It's happened so many times, and I am not letting it happen again.
"God, just fucking stop. You want to die. And if you fucking wimp out again like a goddamn coward, you're gonna hate yourself even more. Just fucking get it over with." I'm saying one thing and believing another, and it's so frustrating.
This is it. There's no backing out now. I'm finally going to do it. And to be honest, it feels so fucking good.
I sink the blade into the skin right under my wrist, and drag it straight down, biting down on my lip to keep from screaming in pain. My arms are destroyed from all the cutting, so cutting straight down is basically reopening a shitton of old scars and making the entire thing even more painful than it'd normally be.
But I guess the insurmountable agony I'm in right now is a small price to pay for the huge reward I'm getting in return.
So I'll take it.
Thoughts? As I've said numerous times, feel free to request scenes. Tell me exactly what you want, and I'll try my best to deliver. Leave your requests in reviews, or message me on tumblr (theghostofashton). Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed.