Trigger Warning: Self-Harm
"Stay away from me you fucking bastard!" James screamed at him in the empty fifth floor bathroom that Sirius had just happened to walk into.
Anger. That's what each step he took was powered by. Because in every way but literal, Sirius was dead.
Slit your fucking wrists and stop being a bloody coward.
Maybe. Though these thoughts still terrified him, everyday they came more and more often, becoming just a little bit more tempting every time they danced through his head.
His nights used to be filled with friends, laughter, and the occasional blowjob. Now, he lay wide awake at night, almost all night, playing out how he could die. Throwing himself off of the top of the Astronomy tower, taking James stupid fucking fancy razor and slashing his wrists, hanging himself by the silk bedsheets James had got for all of them.
James. James hated him. Sirius knew why. Because Sirius was an awful, horrible, truly disgusting person.
Today James had talked to him, well yelled at him at least. The Old Sirius would have seen this as progress. New Sirius, Mad Sirius, Fucking Crazy Sirius knew that this wasn't the case.
He knew that he deserved to be despised. He knew that the prank he played on the fucking emo piece of trash was stupid. He knew that loving Remus was stupid.
And so, now was the time for punishment.
He climbed to the Owlery, his starved and depleted body begging him to stop. He did it. Once up there he carefully pulled out a letter he had tucked into a secret pocket on the inside of his robes. He unfolded, making sure that it said all that he wanted it to.
Snape,
It is very clear that we do not like each other. We have spent years at each other's throats, exchanging hateful words, glass melting glares, and the occasional curse. However, I crossed a line. Sending you there, that was a mistake, one that I promise I will pay for for the rest of my life. Take whatever comfort you can find in my sincere apology. I was wrong. I am sorry. I do not ask for your forgiveness, nor does this letter bring me peace of mind. This is for you. This is to help you heal.
Sincerely,
S.B.
"I really do mean it," he whispered to himself.
Sirius didn't even stop to think about what he was doing until he saw the fear in Snape's eyes. They had that same look that Reg had when their Father would scream, tossing their crystal glasses around the room.
It was that fear that knocked some sense into his head. He was turning into a monster, like his Father. Remus, a boy he loved, was turning into a werewolf right in the next room, but the real monster was Sirius.
He couldn't live like that.
He wouldn't.
So, Sirius lit a cigarette that he decided would be his last. He smoked it near the large window, letting rain drop splatter against his face. When he had made his plan and cried his tears, he extinguished the cigarette on the bare skin of his forearm, taking the first steps to total self destruction.
Sirius had always thought his life would be like that of a Phoenix. He had to destroy all that his family had instilled in him in order to be reborn at Hogwarts, brighter and stronger than ever before.
He knew now that he had been wrong. He realized that rebirth was better left to the immortals. These days Sirius wasn't even sure of his humanity, nevermind anything better.
No, Sirius's life was not like a Phoenix. It was that of a much darker creature, a Basilisk. He got bigger and stronger until somebody stopped him.
It was three days before he was completely alone in the dorms. In the middle of a rather dreary Monday, while everyone was in class, Sirius was ready to end it all.
Sirius put on a white dress shirt and a tight pair of white underwear. Now Sirius knew that it was incredibly weird to wear another bloke's pants, but it seemed wrong to die in his own clothes, so the underwear belonged to Remus (a pair that Sirius was particularly fond of), and the shirt to James (Sirius had replaced it with one of his own).
He was ready, he sat down in the middle of the dorm, gripping the blade tightly in his fist. He was calm. He knew it was time. He pushed up both sleeves and quickly sliced both of his forearms, deep. Through muscle.
It was so easy.
Now Sirius watched. He stared at all the blood, thrilled by the bright colour, loving the smell. He reveled in the way crimson spread across the white of his clothes, like blooming flowers in a field of snow. He ran his fingers through the warm stream, painting across his thighs with his own blood. He watched until black spots danced in front of him.
Panic. What had he done? He couldn't be found like this. Dead. No chance for retribution. So he grabbed his wand and with what little energy remained, sent off a Patronus to Remus.
I love you. I need your help.