Join Me
We are so young, our lives have just begun. But already we are considering, escape from this world.
HIM, Join Me
Drip, drip, the blood spattered on the white porcelain of the sink as the silver blade smoothly cut flesh, each cut closer to the vein. He grit his teeth glad to be able to feel this after being so numb.
His arm was a map of pale streaks of scar tissue, a testament to the pain he had become addicted to, the pain he needed to feel human again now that she was gone.
Squall looked into the mirror and no longer recognised himself, his face thin and sallow, his grey eyes sunk deep in their sockets, blank and unresponsive, his hair long and lank unwashed for weeks.
This was his secret, no-one knew of how he bled. Who would? He was Commander of SeeD, who would question him? It had been a while since he had hurt Quistis which on top of losing Rinoa had pushed him so far inside himself he no longer knew reality. Only the blade and the pain could tell him what was so.
As part of his ritual the blade paused over his wrist, so close it almost touched the flesh. So far he had never pushed the blade in, never severed the pale blue veins on the surface. He had many reasons why he didn't go all the way, there was the fact that he cut to feel, if he died he could no longer feel. This was tied to the second reason, which was his fear of being dead, of non-existence.
But then there was the one reason that wanted him to do it, the whole reason why he bled in the first place. In his mind's eye he could see her, surrounded by white light, safe, serene and waiting for him. Desperately wanting him to join her to soothe his pain, to end her loneliness; Rinoa.
But still the blade never made the fatal cut, never let loose the stream of his life for under that longing to be with Rinoa again was the worry, the nagging fear that if he were to die like this, by his own hand, he wouldn't reach the light, he would be prevented from meeting her in death.
The blade was moved from his wrist and hidden away in the cupboard, blood drying on its edge. The blood flow slowed as the wound begun to heal and once again Squall looked into the mirror and this time started to cry.
We are so young, our lives have just begun. But already we are considering, escape from this world.
HIM, Join Me
Drip, drip, the blood spattered on the white porcelain of the sink as the silver blade smoothly cut flesh, each cut closer to the vein. He grit his teeth glad to be able to feel this after being so numb.
His arm was a map of pale streaks of scar tissue, a testament to the pain he had become addicted to, the pain he needed to feel human again now that she was gone.
Squall looked into the mirror and no longer recognised himself, his face thin and sallow, his grey eyes sunk deep in their sockets, blank and unresponsive, his hair long and lank unwashed for weeks.
This was his secret, no-one knew of how he bled. Who would? He was Commander of SeeD, who would question him? It had been a while since he had hurt Quistis which on top of losing Rinoa had pushed him so far inside himself he no longer knew reality. Only the blade and the pain could tell him what was so.
As part of his ritual the blade paused over his wrist, so close it almost touched the flesh. So far he had never pushed the blade in, never severed the pale blue veins on the surface. He had many reasons why he didn't go all the way, there was the fact that he cut to feel, if he died he could no longer feel. This was tied to the second reason, which was his fear of being dead, of non-existence.
But then there was the one reason that wanted him to do it, the whole reason why he bled in the first place. In his mind's eye he could see her, surrounded by white light, safe, serene and waiting for him. Desperately wanting him to join her to soothe his pain, to end her loneliness; Rinoa.
But still the blade never made the fatal cut, never let loose the stream of his life for under that longing to be with Rinoa again was the worry, the nagging fear that if he were to die like this, by his own hand, he wouldn't reach the light, he would be prevented from meeting her in death.
The blade was moved from his wrist and hidden away in the cupboard, blood drying on its edge. The blood flow slowed as the wound begun to heal and once again Squall looked into the mirror and this time started to cry.