A/N: As I wrote this chapter... I grossed even myself out. Not for the faint of heart.
A/N: Thanks to Kit and Falcon for telling me this was okay.
Psychosis
Together. Midnight in summer. The air's so much warmer. You and I dance with desire - the moon is on fire. Imagine. Stupid random song stuck in Piper head. Piper liked song but no more when it go round and round and round and round and round.
*
I want apple juice. I feel unsatisfied. I feel empty. Something's missing. Apple juice could fill the void. It's always had an effect on me. Whenever I get this feeling like something's missing, I get this desire to drink apple juice. Like it would make me feel better. The shitty thing, however, was that whenever I actually got the stuff, I'd drink it and think it'd solve everything. I'd be left feeling bitter and angry at my body for directing me so wrongly. As if a fruit drink could satiate my depression.
Started chewing on something a little while ago. It doesn't taste of anything really. Feels like plastic. Can't remember what it is. I want to sleep. But I feel if I try I won't get to sleep. Or I'll have nightmares. Like when Paige and Phoebe were in my dream. It felt different from usual. Not in a good way.
It's a screw-on milk bottle cap. It doesn't taste like milk at all. I feel cheated by it. How can something be so unlike what it's related to? I'm a void. I'm a black mark against the Halliwell name. I'm a failure.
"Failure."
She's right. She's always right.
* * *
Sitting rigidly with her curled back against the wall, Paige held the knife against her wrist. It was somewhere she'd been before; somewhere she believed she'd never go back to. But here she was, waiting, expecting.
- Just do it and be done with it. Just do it.
- Okay I'm doing it... wait. No. I can't. I have to be normal again.
- Just do it Paige! You'll feel better! You need to be punished.
- No. I need to get help. I need to talk to Phoebe. I need to make it better.
- Don't you see? It won't get better! You've blown it! You've fucked it up royally! There's no coming back from crazyville. Population You.
- I, I can see someone. I can talk it over, explain, I can... I can...
- You can't. You can't do a thing. Everything that once was yours has been discarded. You're a shell. You're a beast, a monster. You're evil.
"Evil."
- Yes. You're wicked and you have to be stopped. Think about it. Think about the pain you've caused. Think about Piper - she wouldn't be this screwed up if it wasn't for you. You just bombed into the manor at the first opportunity, where was her time to grieve for Prue? She didn't have a chance to get over her big sister's death who, by the way, is so much better than you.
- Oh god I know! Don't you think I don't know that? Every day I have to compete with a dead girl! If only...
- Don't you start with the If Onlys now! You're too late! Too little too late, Paige. You've blown it. Just do it and make it better. For Phoebe. For Piper. For us.
- But I-
- For US Paige!
"For us..."
- Paige, just do it and do it now. You deserve this pain, you NEED this pain.
Her shaking right hand poised the knife and began to slice through the skin on the left arm. She sucked in a wavering breath through her teeth which clung onto her lower lip in anticipation and a strange serenity. Bottom of the palm following the vein, upwards, slowly, let it sting, let the sweet pain infiltrate her mind slowly, oh so slowly. Punishment.
She was an evil wicked little girl. All she ever did was cause grief and hurt other people. She didn't deserve. What didn't she deserve? Love, warmth, happiness. Good embodied. That was what she was supposed to be. A pillar of strength, of Good, a representative of The Elders, of good magic, of her sisters!
But she was none of that. She was a failure. A loser. None of the above, all of the aforementioned. If she squeezed her wrist, more blood came out. Deep, sticky red, burning inside her flesh, drippingly cool on the outside. If she left it, it would form a film over the surface. Protecting itself. Blood. So sinister a word yet naming one of life's most important things. We need blood to live. It's stupid. We shouldn't need physical bodies. They're not what matter. If the body goes down, so does the mind.
It looked fake, the blood. Paige stared down at it, a mild expression on her face. The knife was still held in her right hand, which was pressing it onto the floor with the palm, now bloodied. She hadn't cut it deep enough.
- You idiot! What are you playing, just half doing it like that? You think that redeems yourself? You think this makes it all better?
- I can't. I can't do it.
- DO IT!
Breathing quickly and erratically, a new breath being pulled in before the last one expelled, Paige picked the knife up once more and her entire arm shook as she brought it over to her left arm again. Her tongue touched the roof of her mouth and held itself there, trying the quell the babbling sounds escaping her in her anxiety. Wincing in pain as the knife slid right into the previous cut, she cried out as the warming metal hit a tender spot. A nerve ending.
- Yes. That's the place. Deeper Paige. Feel the pain and embrace it.
A high-pitched, ragged breath marked the point when Paige severed the tendon and blood began to splatter out faster, rushing to escape the confines of her skin. Even it doesn't want to be around me, she noted. Anger flickered to her face. She was being betrayed by her own body!
Raising the knife again, Paige stopped herself just in time before she plunged it deeper into her own flesh. Blood on her arm. Blood on the floor. Blood on her mind. Blood at the door. It was, on the floor now. And on her leg. Her clothes were ruined. Dry-clean only. The silky blood was bubbling at it came out of her, recoiling at the taste of air. It was a long gash. Paige always preferred the word 'gash' to 'cut'. Why not go for the bold and the brash in life?
What she was doing wasn't bold, it was cowardly.
- What you're doing now is something you deserve. You don't deserve a lot, but this is something you've earned.
Paige swayed to the side and her bleeding arm automatically jerked out to prop herself back up. Even though it was now numb to touch, it buckled under her weight and slid in the pooled blood on the floor, dropping Paige heavily onto her side. She slumped down, head straight, eyes wide and staring, arm stretched out in front of her.
- Do the other one.
"No."
- God dammit Paige - DO IT OR I'LL DO IT FOR YOU!
Without any words escaping Paige's lips and completely beyond her mental control, she grabbed the knife and tossed it onto the floor for her left hand to pick up, which it did fumblingly.
"No!" Paige cried as her left hand slashed the blade into the skin of her right hand which she held out rigidly. It cut deep. The knife got stuck, embedded halfway up her forearm. It magnetised the blood. Redness leapt towards the knife blade and slid up it, towards her left hand. Feeling sick, she pulled the knife out which in her ears made a rusting, creaking noise as it came out.
- Good girl Paige. Good girl.
Crying, she slid down onto her side. Her tears rolled down her face and dropped off her face. Into the blood. There was more than she thought there'd be.
Dilute the blood. Make it salty and sweet. A deceiving concoction. She was going to die. Mortal sin. Suicide. Hell.
- There. You've discovered what it is that you deserve.
A wave of peace and tiredness washed over her.
- Do your neck now.
A/N: What I want to know is when Prue suddenly became a bitchos!
A/N: This story is getting pretty damn long. Long like a... something long. Who's still gonna review at chapter 30? Yeah thought not.
A/N: Thanks to Kit and Falcon for telling me this was okay.
Psychosis
Together. Midnight in summer. The air's so much warmer. You and I dance with desire - the moon is on fire. Imagine. Stupid random song stuck in Piper head. Piper liked song but no more when it go round and round and round and round and round.
*
I want apple juice. I feel unsatisfied. I feel empty. Something's missing. Apple juice could fill the void. It's always had an effect on me. Whenever I get this feeling like something's missing, I get this desire to drink apple juice. Like it would make me feel better. The shitty thing, however, was that whenever I actually got the stuff, I'd drink it and think it'd solve everything. I'd be left feeling bitter and angry at my body for directing me so wrongly. As if a fruit drink could satiate my depression.
Started chewing on something a little while ago. It doesn't taste of anything really. Feels like plastic. Can't remember what it is. I want to sleep. But I feel if I try I won't get to sleep. Or I'll have nightmares. Like when Paige and Phoebe were in my dream. It felt different from usual. Not in a good way.
It's a screw-on milk bottle cap. It doesn't taste like milk at all. I feel cheated by it. How can something be so unlike what it's related to? I'm a void. I'm a black mark against the Halliwell name. I'm a failure.
"Failure."
She's right. She's always right.
* * *
Sitting rigidly with her curled back against the wall, Paige held the knife against her wrist. It was somewhere she'd been before; somewhere she believed she'd never go back to. But here she was, waiting, expecting.
- Just do it and be done with it. Just do it.
- Okay I'm doing it... wait. No. I can't. I have to be normal again.
- Just do it Paige! You'll feel better! You need to be punished.
- No. I need to get help. I need to talk to Phoebe. I need to make it better.
- Don't you see? It won't get better! You've blown it! You've fucked it up royally! There's no coming back from crazyville. Population You.
- I, I can see someone. I can talk it over, explain, I can... I can...
- You can't. You can't do a thing. Everything that once was yours has been discarded. You're a shell. You're a beast, a monster. You're evil.
"Evil."
- Yes. You're wicked and you have to be stopped. Think about it. Think about the pain you've caused. Think about Piper - she wouldn't be this screwed up if it wasn't for you. You just bombed into the manor at the first opportunity, where was her time to grieve for Prue? She didn't have a chance to get over her big sister's death who, by the way, is so much better than you.
- Oh god I know! Don't you think I don't know that? Every day I have to compete with a dead girl! If only...
- Don't you start with the If Onlys now! You're too late! Too little too late, Paige. You've blown it. Just do it and make it better. For Phoebe. For Piper. For us.
- But I-
- For US Paige!
"For us..."
- Paige, just do it and do it now. You deserve this pain, you NEED this pain.
Her shaking right hand poised the knife and began to slice through the skin on the left arm. She sucked in a wavering breath through her teeth which clung onto her lower lip in anticipation and a strange serenity. Bottom of the palm following the vein, upwards, slowly, let it sting, let the sweet pain infiltrate her mind slowly, oh so slowly. Punishment.
She was an evil wicked little girl. All she ever did was cause grief and hurt other people. She didn't deserve. What didn't she deserve? Love, warmth, happiness. Good embodied. That was what she was supposed to be. A pillar of strength, of Good, a representative of The Elders, of good magic, of her sisters!
But she was none of that. She was a failure. A loser. None of the above, all of the aforementioned. If she squeezed her wrist, more blood came out. Deep, sticky red, burning inside her flesh, drippingly cool on the outside. If she left it, it would form a film over the surface. Protecting itself. Blood. So sinister a word yet naming one of life's most important things. We need blood to live. It's stupid. We shouldn't need physical bodies. They're not what matter. If the body goes down, so does the mind.
It looked fake, the blood. Paige stared down at it, a mild expression on her face. The knife was still held in her right hand, which was pressing it onto the floor with the palm, now bloodied. She hadn't cut it deep enough.
- You idiot! What are you playing, just half doing it like that? You think that redeems yourself? You think this makes it all better?
- I can't. I can't do it.
- DO IT!
Breathing quickly and erratically, a new breath being pulled in before the last one expelled, Paige picked the knife up once more and her entire arm shook as she brought it over to her left arm again. Her tongue touched the roof of her mouth and held itself there, trying the quell the babbling sounds escaping her in her anxiety. Wincing in pain as the knife slid right into the previous cut, she cried out as the warming metal hit a tender spot. A nerve ending.
- Yes. That's the place. Deeper Paige. Feel the pain and embrace it.
A high-pitched, ragged breath marked the point when Paige severed the tendon and blood began to splatter out faster, rushing to escape the confines of her skin. Even it doesn't want to be around me, she noted. Anger flickered to her face. She was being betrayed by her own body!
Raising the knife again, Paige stopped herself just in time before she plunged it deeper into her own flesh. Blood on her arm. Blood on the floor. Blood on her mind. Blood at the door. It was, on the floor now. And on her leg. Her clothes were ruined. Dry-clean only. The silky blood was bubbling at it came out of her, recoiling at the taste of air. It was a long gash. Paige always preferred the word 'gash' to 'cut'. Why not go for the bold and the brash in life?
What she was doing wasn't bold, it was cowardly.
- What you're doing now is something you deserve. You don't deserve a lot, but this is something you've earned.
Paige swayed to the side and her bleeding arm automatically jerked out to prop herself back up. Even though it was now numb to touch, it buckled under her weight and slid in the pooled blood on the floor, dropping Paige heavily onto her side. She slumped down, head straight, eyes wide and staring, arm stretched out in front of her.
- Do the other one.
"No."
- God dammit Paige - DO IT OR I'LL DO IT FOR YOU!
Without any words escaping Paige's lips and completely beyond her mental control, she grabbed the knife and tossed it onto the floor for her left hand to pick up, which it did fumblingly.
"No!" Paige cried as her left hand slashed the blade into the skin of her right hand which she held out rigidly. It cut deep. The knife got stuck, embedded halfway up her forearm. It magnetised the blood. Redness leapt towards the knife blade and slid up it, towards her left hand. Feeling sick, she pulled the knife out which in her ears made a rusting, creaking noise as it came out.
- Good girl Paige. Good girl.
Crying, she slid down onto her side. Her tears rolled down her face and dropped off her face. Into the blood. There was more than she thought there'd be.
Dilute the blood. Make it salty and sweet. A deceiving concoction. She was going to die. Mortal sin. Suicide. Hell.
- There. You've discovered what it is that you deserve.
A wave of peace and tiredness washed over her.
- Do your neck now.
A/N: What I want to know is when Prue suddenly became a bitchos!
A/N: This story is getting pretty damn long. Long like a... something long. Who's still gonna review at chapter 30? Yeah thought not.