Title: Christmas Ritual
Author: Kentra Shinataku
Pairings: None
Warnings: angst, cutting, drug abuse, language, trippy
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He wanted to laugh. It was just so... so funny. Somehow, it was all so amusing, and he knew it shouldn't be. This year he had taken it a little too far, but he didn't suppose it mattered. Nobody would notice. Nobody _could_ notice because nobody remembered he was even alive. He shouldn't be alive. He didn't remember being truly alive.
Every year it was the same, over and over. The scars could easily be replaced. It's not as if he ever ran out of skin. Too bad he couldn't see straight; he had huffed whatever was under the kitchen sink for far too long right along with that nameless powder he had tucked underneath his socks in the second drawer. Mix that with just a tad too much alcohol and that was his current state. It didn't matter if he had the Hangover from Hell in the morning-- if he even woke up in the morning. Damn, it was rather convenient that he had just been fired from his damn job for coming in hung over four days a week. No one would mind now.
He didn't think he had gotten this damn high last year. No, last year he could still see the blood as it dripped on the floor. Merry, merry, merry Christmas. Red was the color to celebrate with. Here's his offering, some blood to smear on the Christmas tree. It didn't matter that he couldn't even clutch the blade anymore. It fell on the counter, and when he sank to his knees on the kitchen floor, he couldn't reach it. There was probably something else he could use on the kitchen floor from his little rampage earlier. Something other than his blood, and the spilled bottle of Windex or whatever he had huffed. Something like.... the Christmas card from Wufei. He squinted at it, holding it open between two fingers. Wufei. Fuck Wufei. Hadn't seen him for years and didn't need to. He'd served his purpose. There was no more need for him.
Oh yeah, he remembered Wufei, he remembered him being a hard ass bitch. So they had fought together, been a part of the Gundam 'team'. Didn't make him family. Didn't make him worth living for. He didn't give a damn after the fighting was done.
He sighed. Of course no one would give a damn. They didn't even think to come celebrate with him. Then again, why would they want to come wallow with him in his blood?
**********
Author: Kentra Shinataku
Pairings: None
Warnings: angst, cutting, drug abuse, language, trippy
**********
He wanted to laugh. It was just so... so funny. Somehow, it was all so amusing, and he knew it shouldn't be. This year he had taken it a little too far, but he didn't suppose it mattered. Nobody would notice. Nobody _could_ notice because nobody remembered he was even alive. He shouldn't be alive. He didn't remember being truly alive.
Every year it was the same, over and over. The scars could easily be replaced. It's not as if he ever ran out of skin. Too bad he couldn't see straight; he had huffed whatever was under the kitchen sink for far too long right along with that nameless powder he had tucked underneath his socks in the second drawer. Mix that with just a tad too much alcohol and that was his current state. It didn't matter if he had the Hangover from Hell in the morning-- if he even woke up in the morning. Damn, it was rather convenient that he had just been fired from his damn job for coming in hung over four days a week. No one would mind now.
He didn't think he had gotten this damn high last year. No, last year he could still see the blood as it dripped on the floor. Merry, merry, merry Christmas. Red was the color to celebrate with. Here's his offering, some blood to smear on the Christmas tree. It didn't matter that he couldn't even clutch the blade anymore. It fell on the counter, and when he sank to his knees on the kitchen floor, he couldn't reach it. There was probably something else he could use on the kitchen floor from his little rampage earlier. Something other than his blood, and the spilled bottle of Windex or whatever he had huffed. Something like.... the Christmas card from Wufei. He squinted at it, holding it open between two fingers. Wufei. Fuck Wufei. Hadn't seen him for years and didn't need to. He'd served his purpose. There was no more need for him.
Oh yeah, he remembered Wufei, he remembered him being a hard ass bitch. So they had fought together, been a part of the Gundam 'team'. Didn't make him family. Didn't make him worth living for. He didn't give a damn after the fighting was done.
He sighed. Of course no one would give a damn. They didn't even think to come celebrate with him. Then again, why would they want to come wallow with him in his blood?
**********