TRIGGER WARNING – Self harm, suicidal thoughts and mentions of abuse. Read with caution.
if you're expecting the world to be fair with you because you're fair to the world then you're fooling yourself.
that's like expecting the lion not to eat you because you didn't eat him.
The rough fabric on Maka's jacket pulled at the angry wounds but she didn't care. Her eyes stayed unwaveringly on Soul. She held her arm out for him to see, furiously fighting the tears that welled her eyes. She should have known. She had known Soul only a few days and yet he still could read her so well it terrified her. She should have been more careful.
Soul looked at the wounds with an expressionless face, his grip on Maka's wrist tightened until it throbbed but it never weakened, even when she tried to break free from his hold. The broken glass that replaced her blood ground together and she grit her teeth. Maka needed to cut so badly it hurt. She had to convince him that it was just a momentary lapse. That it was over, and he could leave…
Maka knew the idea was hopeless the moment it entered her mind.
"Maka," Soul said in a dangerously low voice, drawing his other hand up to hover over the wounds before he dropped his hand back down. His grip remained firm. "Are you stupid?"
Maka couldn't help but laugh. The sound was unpleasant and nasty.
"No, Soul, I'm crazy."
She jerked her arm away when her comment distracted him. She made a move to pull her sleeve back down, but Soul held a hand out to stop her.
"No, don't. We need to clean it," he said as he made his way towards the door. Maka followed incredulously.
"Clean it?" She repeated in a weary voice. Soul rolled his eyes as he turned around before reaching the door, his jaw taut.
"Yeah. Trust me, infection sucks."
"Ah, I see, and you would know this how?" Maka asked, her voice sharp as he went to turn the doorknob.
At her words his hand on the handle froze and his shoulders stiffened. He offered the blonde no reply before yanking the door open and storming out, muttering a quiet: "Stay here," before slamming it shut again.
Maka bit her lip when the feeling over being alone flooded over her, the familiar ache growing stronger in her wrist. Would Soul check her other arm? He surely wouldn't check her thighs; She could cut there easily – She hesitated a moment longer. She didn't know how far away he was going to get what he needed to clean the wounds. It could take seconds.
Or it could take minutes.
Ah, a few minutes would be so perfect it made her sigh out loud. Unable to resist, the young woman sat down on the bed and pulled her skirt up to expose the top of her thigh. The skin was already deformed with scars, what would a couple more do? She took a deep breath before pressing her still red-stained thumb nail over the skin and pressed down. She relished in the feeling of the nail digging into her flesh and burying itself there.
Just as the feeling got blissful, she was ready to draw the nail horizontally to make the perfect cut. She took a deep breath before doing so, bracing herself again for the pain.
That was until she was tackled onto the bed.
Once her eyes stopped rattling in her skull, Maka finally noticed the questionable weight pressing against her torso. She blinked open her eyes before they snapped open.
"What- Soul!"
Soul was splayed over her, his fists clenched over her wrists at either side of her head, keeping his weight from fully pressing on her though his chest still pressed against her own. His face was inches away from hers and his sharp teeth were bared as he sneered.
"Seriously, Maka? The moment I leave the room?" he asked in bewilderment, his eyes brewing with anger at her nerve. Maka squirmed and Soul snarled again.
"You don't understand," Maka cried, no longer bothering to mask her desperation. "I need it, Soul. I can't cope without it."
"I don't understand?" he mocked her, pushing himself off her and stumbling back a few steps away from her. She sat up breathlessly on the bed to meet his eyes. He ran a hand over his face and looked down on the blonde.
"Maka," he began slowly, and very precisely. "I understand. Much more than you know. But you don't understand how dangerous cutting at a place like here is. I've seen it. You think the shit we deal with now is bad? There's this one kid, Chrona, who couldn't stop cutting. The staff couldn't control him, and they tried everything. Cut his nails, put him in a fucking padded room. He started to bite at his own skin and tear himself open-"
Soul trailed off, watching approvingly as her eyes grew wider. This is what he wanted, she realised. He wanted to scare her.
It was working.
"I haven't seen Chrona since," he finished, and Maka blinked.
"How long ago was that?" She whispered and Soul barked a laugh.
"I can't tell you that without telling you how long I've been here, and I don't think you want to know."
Maka frowned and stood; She tilted her head as she tried to read his expression.
"I want to know how long it's been since that – that kid was locked up," She said honestly, though she secretly couldn't help but wonder how long he had been there also.
Soul growled in annoyance and picked up the medical supplies he'd dropped when he tackled her and sat her back down onto the bed. He cleaned and dressed the wounds before clipping her nails, making Maka grumble before finally returning to the previous conversation.
"If I tell you, will you promise to stop cutting here?" he checked, and Maka bit her lip. Many people had made her promises they didn't keep and that hurt. She didn't want to be that person. So, reluctantly, Maka clenched her fists and nodded.
"I promise." She muttered and Soul nodded.
"The thing with Chrona…" he began, rubbing his neck awkwardly. "That was about two and half years ago."
Maka's eyed widened. Not only had it been so long since that boy was ever seen again - yet he was still here somewhere - but Soul had been here for more than two years.
"You've been in here for nearly three years?" Maka asked in disbelief. Soul sighed again.
"Not exactly," he said wearily, and Maka recoiled.
"How much longer?"
"Ugh…" he groaned and hung his head back. "I don't really want to-"
"Soul."
"Alright, alright! Jeez." He raised his arms up before dropping them down. He looked down at the blonde with an exasperated sigh.
"I've been stuck here since I was ten, so… seven years, I guess."
"Seven years?" Maka spluttered and Soul glared at her.
"They won't release anyone till they're fully recovered and can be trusted out in the real world independently and I'm far from that even now." He replied hotly.
Maka couldn't put up with it any longer. She knew what Soul had done to people who pried in his life… But she had gotten so much out of him due to his worry for her – as weird as that was - and it was probably more than anyone else had ever gotten. Why not push it?
"Soul…" Maka began and Soul held up a finger and backed away from her, his eyes hardening.
"I know what you're going to ask, Maka," he said in an incensed voice and started to make his way from the room. "And I'm not talking about it. So, don't bother."
"Soul, why do you think you've been stuck here for so long?" She asked suddenly, her patience with him running out. She made her way around to him to block the door. "Because you don't talk about things. The first thing I was told when I came here was that defiance gets you no points. Someone should have told you that! If you don't convince them that you're alright, then you'll never get out of here."
Soul glared at her. He was really angry now.
"Then what do you suggest I do then, Maka? I don't trust anyone enough here to talk to."
Maka tilted her chin up to look up at the older man. "You trusted me with how long you stayed here. Have you ever told any of the other patients here?"
Soul scoffed. "No. But I don't trust you. I don't trust anyone."
"Same here," Maka sneered as she took a step toward him. She felt a flash of satisfaction as he fell a step back.
"But as much as I hate it, I do have a conscience... kind of. And I know exactly what will help you and you just don't see it. It so frustrating! So, like it or not, I'm going to help you."
Soul took a dangerous step closer to her. "You're in no position to talk about this shit, Maka. So, don't fucking try."
Maka narrowed her eyes. "What are you talking about?"
"What, you think I'm the only one who screams in my sleep? But no, you don't scream, Maka. You talk."
"How on earth would you know that?" She asked, her throat tightening.
"I have to stay in the corridor some nights, make sure patients don't wander around," he stepped closer to her and tilted his head, his eyes cold. "But sometimes I hear you muttering. Muttering about Daddy."
Maka felt her blood run cold. Her expression must have said everything since Soul nodded.
"Yeah, you didn't know, huh? It's jarring, I know. Knowing your dreams aren't your own. So, tell me Maka, do you tell Miss Marie about these dreams?" He paused and leant closer to her, his lips nearing her ear. "These dreams where you beg and beg Daddy to stop?"
She couldn't even respond. Any words she could have formed were caught in her throat. She could only shake my head.
"Yeah. That's what I thought." He muttered quietly as he looked up and walked around her.
And then he left.
