AGAIN: This is a sensitive topic. Please, use caution when reading! Thanks!
This is currently Unbeta'ed...once it is, I will post any needed changes. Thanks again for your patience and for reading.
As the pleasure flowed through his body, Johnny breathed out a loud sigh of relief. Seconds later, a hiss of pain followed.
"Jeez, Gage. Stupid move," he muttered to himself, shaking his head.
Looking down at the cuts, he was comforted by the fact that there was so little blood. Reaching to grab some toilet paper, Johnny became confused as each time more blood came out, he felt more centered, more peaceful, and able to think clearer. Only when he tried to wipe the blood away or touch the wound did pain register. Shaking off the confusion, John stood up and grabbed some disinfect. Quickly cleaning the small cuts, he again marveled at how much the actions hurt and yet, oddly felt…
"Right," he spoke out loud. "Man, I must be losing it."
Looking into the mirror after applying a bandage, he promised, "Never again, this was way stupid."
It was three days after the screw-up, as John called it, that Johnny really began to wonder how in the world he ended up resorting to hurting himself.
I know that all the guys have had a hard time with all the crud that happened right before I got injured. Despite Roy being on shift that day, I know I could have called him, or any of the guys, heck even Dixie or one of the Docs from Rampart! It isn't like I hadn't done that in the past, so why was that day so different? Man, I just wish my brain would stop! Johnny ranted internally, craving the tranquility he had just a few days ago. If I could just get some peace and quiet, stop thinking about the pain, the loss, the deaths, and just sleep for a while… I don't know, I just hate this! Typically, I literally work through things bugging me and I can't this time which isn't helping!
Unknowingly, all this time, Johnny had been pacing back and forth in his apartment, getting closer and closer to his bathroom. Near the end, he was right at the doorway and when he finally stopped his train of thoughts long enough, he had his razor in his hand.
"No, not again," Johnny vowed quietly, moaning slightly while trying to put the razor down. However, it was as if something was forcing him to hang onto it and he just couldn't let go.
The pull of the razor and the peace it could offer, even if it was temporary, seemed to scream out at him. Closing his eyes, John tried fighting the urge at first, but by closing his eyes, memories of the victims assaulted him. Moaning, he pulled his pants and boxers down far enough, took the bandage off and began cutting vertically near the first cut.
This time, one small cut didn't seem to help. Instead, it took five long cuts before his mind finally stopped screaming at him and solace overcame him. Breathing heavily for a few minutes, when Johnny finally calmed down, he looked at what he did and quickly took care of it. Going into his bedroom, he gave in and cried, not only in grief, but also due to fear.
All he could think was, How on earth did this happen again and why couldn't I stop myself?