Well this certainly wasn't part of the original story plan... I really don't even know where this one came from. It just all kinda appeared throughout the day.
Okay, um, let's see... This chapter thing holds the fierce return of Sexy Bloody Vincent.
For turning him into an emo kid whose brain is the perfect fertile ground for growing the seeds of a serial killer, I sort of apologize. And I sort of don't apologize, cos that's just my favourite flavour of Vincent.
The characters. They belong to Squeeeeeeeenix. And I'm sure Squeeeeeeeenix is gonna be reeeeaaaal proud today...
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(Vincent)
I have been told that in death, there can be a world that is so much greater than the one in which I already exist. It's so tempting to see if it's true sometimes. But I've been lied to so much, I can't quite convince myself that it's worth the risk. With my luck, when I die, everything will somehow be worse than it already is. Somehow, I will manage to be even unhappier. That result wouldn't surprise me at all.
No matter how much I think want to die, I know I could never end it all of my own volition. And logically, I know it's not the answer to my problems.
My common sense is usually present, though very seldom does it actually have power over my irrational stupidity.
Like right now. Logically, I know exactly what's around me: various pieces of hardware, cardboard storage boxes filled with holiday ornaments and old items nobody has the will to get rid of, a few old chairs, and a table leaning on its side against the wall.
But in the pitch black that's covered me in this little basement storage closet, my scared and overactive imagination presents the possibility of other things lurking in the darkness.
I wait, still and silent, to be attacked. Waiting for claws and teeth to tear me to shreds. And waiting to see sinful red eyes - like mine, like all the worst demons probably have - menacing and glowing and staring at me like I'm some kind of snack.
"Nothing here, nothing here..." I sing almost silently to myself and raise my flashlight, "See that?" I click the light on and sweep it around the room, "Told you there was nothing."
Leaning against the closed door of the closet, I slip my pyjama pants down and slide to the floor, then set the flashlight on its backside so it points to the ceiling and gives a small area of decent light.
I know how this process works. I've been through it before, but this time, it's a little bit different. Friends and family have actually taken to caring for me. And, fucking hell, as much as I hate it, I've ended up caring for them. There's nobody to take my frustrations out on anymore, so I turn the frustrations inward.
Logically, I know that trying to cut away my misery is stupid. It's a bad idea and it surely won't fix me in the end. But rationality battled and lost many times before I decided to come down here.
Ignoring the desire to simply slash at my face and arms with reckless abandon, I trace the razor blade in a line across my inner thigh. Anywhere else, and the marks would risk being seen by someone who would give a crap. No one but me will be able to see this, and I certainly couldn't care any less. I just need to do anything to numb myself. As long as I'm hurting something, it's better than nothing.
"You're a fucking idiot," I tell myself but promptly discard the thought. I know I am, but I really don't feel like dealing with that issue right now. So I push the blade harder, breaking the skin, and digging it in as deep as I possibly can, forcing sounds of pain to stay in my throat.
I move the blade along the imaginary line. After a while, it doesn't hurt so badly anymore. It does hurt, but it's almost good. A kind of bittersweet, tingling ache. Blood begins to spill from the wound, dribbling slow streams across my leg. I stifle a groan over its tickling warmth and bring the flashlight closer to better see the gore fest I'm treating myself to.
"Fucking freak..." I mutter, watching myself grow hard. But I can't help what turns me on, so I indulge my wants, dragging my fingers through the blood and along the underside of my erection, up and around the tip, collecting drops of precum and tasting the tangy, metallic mix.(!)
Thoughts of Lucy come to mind, as they often tend to do. I imagine that it's her blood, not mine, being shed for this obscene act. I give a quiet yet desperate and grieving moan and ache for her to be here with me now. I'm still in love with her and her pretty light brown curls. I think I'd slit her open for a chance to play with her insides.
Somewhere in my misguided brain, I know I shouldn't be thinking these things, but the last of my sensibility has begun stepping down for the time being. It leaves me with images of poor Lucy, bound and frightened, her eyes wide and panicked as she pleads for her life with her sweet little girl's voice. "Please, please, Vincent," she would beg, tears slipping down her soft cheeks, "No more, please!"
But all I would be able to do is more. Give her more scars, more bruises for her delicate throat, and more reasons to cry harder. God, what a mess we'd make.
"Oh fuck, Lucy..."
I may have gone a little stupid from sex at the moment, but to be caught in this situation would be very, very bad. I firmly press one red-slicked hand against my mouth to keep from saying much else, while the other hand works hard to give exceedingly pleasant satisfaction. The tension building in the pit of my stomach can't hold itself in anymore and finally lets go, turning my senses to jelly and dousing them in absolute awesomeness, if only for a just a few short moments.
I regain some sanity, coming down from my orgasm high, and I know I don't want to open my eyes, but at some point I'll have no other choice. As soon as I see what I've done, all good feelings are gone and I'm left with blood, sex, and guilt spattered along my body. I hate this guilt. I've never had to deal with it before like I've been dealing with it lately. Never cared enough for anyone to actually come face to face with shame like this.
Red and white mix and eventually soak through the handful of tissues I'm fumbling with. I work my shirt off and press the fabric to the new wound on my leg. I didn't realize it would bleed so much. The skin around it is bright pink and swollen. It's much more sensitive now since my post-masturbation thoughts are a lot clearer than the pre-masturbation ones.
Not that long ago, I wouldn't have minded this whole self-inflicted pain/self-gratification thing one bit. It would have been worth it all to have those few minutes of relief where nothing else existed. But now, I feel dirty, I feel sorry, and I feel kind of like I'm gonna get sick.
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Faucet on the lowest pressure setting, I watch the last of the reddened water swirl down the drain. Face, hands, and body are clean. Incriminating tissues are flushed. I sneak back to bed, tucking the blood stained shirt under the mattress to be dealt with it later. I'm pretty good about doing my own laundry. Nobody'll see it.
One of the dangers of sharing a bedroom is that one person often notices when the other is gone. But Reeve seems to have been asleep this whole time. Good. One less thing for me to worry about.
Cid's jacket sits next to my pillow. I reach for it and shove it off the bed. I definitely don't feel right having it anymore. I was able to ignore it for a while, but I still worried that I was defiling something that belongs to someone much better than me. I think what I did tonight makes me feel that it's time to give it back. Then maybe we can start to forget each other.
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(!)Hello, run-on-sentence. You're definitely not the only one on this page, but you seem to be the longest. I refuse to fix you!
So, ah, yeeaahh... That was a little fucked up. And I liked it. What's done is done, what's posted is posted : P
I'm still working on filling in holes that are in the next couple of chapter things. I wish the holes would just fill up on their own. Write your own damn self, story!
And...sorry about this, but... I'll respond to recent comments with the next update. So don't think my lateness in responding means I don't love you guys. Cos I do. I do love you guys. You're all radtastic and I wanna be each and every one of you when I grow up : 3
TBC, yo!