They were all so stupid. I sat there and I listened to them talk and it was all I could do to keep from laughing. They thought I hated him. They thought that it was all about him. They thought that everything I did was about him. If only they had known. If only they had known how I used him. Him and his girls. I had no delusions. He wouldn't choose me. It didn't matter if he did or not, as long as they all stayed around. I needed them, all of them. They fed what I had carefully cultivated for so long. I don't know when I discovered it, just some time after the death of my mother. I hadn't known that it could feel that good. I'd felt it since the day of her death, the cool relief, but it was fighting that brought me what I wanted. Screw cutting myself. Broken noses and bones were so much better. The knowledge that if I wasn't strong enough I could be raped was thrilling. I thrived on that pain. I was always just better than they were, never pushing myself, but then he came. And I found a different pain. The physical no longer satisfied me. I wanted words that cut into my soul, words that left gaping wounds and flooded me with inadequacy. Each word, each insult almost sent me to my knees. When Ryoga showed up, I needed that. I could hear them mocking me, and I began to remember what life had been like. I knew he was P-Chan; I would have had no use for him if he hadn't been but the mockery, the knowledge that I was doing something degrading, was so wonderful. I felt ashamed and disgusted and alive. Then the girls showed up and suddenly I had something to compare myself to, and oh, it was so wonderful. The way my gut twisted. The ripping and tearing of my soul. I could feel life in every limb as deep as the misery....
...but then it started to fade. I had reached the ultimate high. I had died. I was a second from death, and I had never felt more alive. I tried everything to get that feeling back. I cut myself, tried to get him to hit me, went after Shampoo, went after anyone that would hit me. I nearly begged for him to hit me the night before. I was on my knees nearly in tears. I think he finally realized that it was about something other than being a martial artist. I could see it in his eyes. I needed it so bad, and, in that moment, the begging was almost as satisfying. But he wouldn't do it. He simply left me there in tears. I needed that feeling. That's why I was there. That's why my blood was pooling on the floor, and I was waiting. That feeling grew stronger by the second. My hands were trembling in my excitement. I knew it was close. It was right there. I was moments away from it.
"Akane?"
I didn't turn. I didn't dare. I knew him, and I knew that he would try to stop me and, dammit, I NEEDED it. I think that was the moment I realized just how wrong it was. It was that moment that I realized that I loved him. I loved him because he enabled me to kill myself. He had helped kill my soul, and I loved him for it. I started to cry. Suddenly, I didn't want to die any more. I struggled to stop the bleeding, but it didn't do any good.
"Akane?"
Both my wrists were slit, and I was standing there naked and covered in my own blood. One hand was trying to hold a wrist closed and I was crying and suddenly my legs gave out and I went crashing to the ground. He opened the door, and I swear to God I heard him scream. It didn't matter at that moment though because I was scared and alive and elated all in the same instant.
"Akane?"
That's why I'm laying here. My eyes are closed, and I know he knows I'm awake. He's always been able to tell. I can't open my eyes though, because then I'll have to face him, and the thought of that sickens me. For the first time since Mom died, I don't want to feel that way. I want it to go away. I feel the tears well up, and they slip from under my eyelids.
"Akane..."
I realize that he's the only one in the room with me, and I'm so grateful. I reach out to him. He pulls me into his embrace, and God, I feel so warm. I tell him everything as he holds me, my eyes are still closed, and I feel him go as still as death. His grip grows tighter with every word. His breath is harsh, and he moans. He's crying. He's crying. Ranma Saotome is crying. For all his manliness, I bring Ranma Saotome to tears. He pulls away from me and before I can open my eyes, his hands are on my cheeks, and he's kissing me. He's kissing me and saying my name and we're both crying. Then he stops, and I open my eyes for the first time. He's staring at me so intently.
"Promise me, Akane. Promise me you won't ever do that again. Promise me that you'll get help. Promise me."
I reach out and touch his face. His tears are just as hot as mine. I taste them and realize that I tasted them on his lips.
"Will you be with me?"
"Always. Just don't-" He breaks off. His face is twisted in pain.
"If you die, Akane-" He breaks off again. I watch him draw a deep breath. This is hard for him. I can see him struggling.
"If you die, I die. I need you, Akane. I need you so much."
I promise him, and I mean it. I don't like this feeling any more. I don't want this feeling. I want the one I feel when he touches me, when he kisses me. I want the one I feel when he says my name.
~~~~~
Thanks to Alison.