Hey everyone! Here's Chapter 11! Hope you enjoy!
Bbrae-4ever fanfics: They are! I tried to make them as horrible as possible without being completely ridiculous, and I'm glad that's coming across well. Luckily, most people aren't like that in life! And I know; it's really hard to write about bad things happening to a character, but totally necessary. I don't think a suicide attempt would be egotistical; having friends and loved ones doesn't prevent suicide or suicidal behavior/thoughts. But, then again, everyone who is in that kind of situation has different purposes behind it, so I suppose some people would have that purpose. I'm glad you're enjoying my story, and I hope you continue to enjoy it! There's still a lot of story to go, and I'm so excited to continue to post :)
DarkDremora4: The villagers are quite irrational and overall just horrible people; I'm glad that I was able to write their part and get that feeling across as that is what I was going for. With this chapter especially, I wanted to make their ridiculousness reach a whole new level, and I think that has come across well. The story is a little less than half way over, so there's a lot to come. Thank you so much! I'm glad you're enjoying the story and I hope the rest is just as exciting for you! And don't worry about it; it lets me know that I'm getting my readers to feel the emotions I was wanting to portray, so I actually quite enjoy reading rants :)
RPGPersona: I agree; finding a treatment, much less a cure, would have been exceedingly difficult, but they had to try regardless. Despite not knowing his purpose for doing what he did, at least it's done and cannot be continued. And I know; I hated making BB have such a hard time, and having so much hate directed to him, but I felt like it was necessary for this story. No one deserves such treatment. It'll certainly be a difficult task; the mission was exceptionally troublesome for him. I hope you continue to enjoy the story :)
Please keep reading and reviewing! I really appreciate it :)
The ride home in the T-ship was a long and silent one. No one was very willing to speak after the events that had occurred in the last 24 hours. Between the whole Dr. Register incident, Beast Boy's breakdown, and the whole angry tribal incident, the team was tired of drama and altercations, to say the least. And even if they had wanted to have a conversation on the way back home, what would they have talked about? Everything was still much too raw, and it wouldn't be an appropriate place to hold that conversation that would likely need to eventually come. So, they mostly sat in silence for the long duration of the flight, finally landing back in Jump City in the late afternoon.
When the team landed, they got out of the T-ship and went to retrieve their luggage.
"It is so lovely to finally be back home again! I have missed it dearly," Starfire said, trying to lighten the mood as she stretched.
"Yeah. Feels like it's been forever since we've been back here," Cyborg added, pulling down another suitcase from the storage compartment.
"I cannot wait to see my dearest Silkie! I have missed my little Bumgorf so much!" Starfire beamed, elated at the thought of being reunited with the mutant larvae.
Finally, all the suitcases were loaded out of the T-ship, and it was locked back up.
"Friend Beast Boy, would you like to do the visiting of Silkie with me? I'm sure he would be the thrilled to see you-," Starfire said, her words trailing off slowly at the end as she turned to where the green changeling had been standing mere seconds ago. She heard the sound of a rolling suitcase and turned to the doorway, where she and the other Titans saw Beast Boy leaving the garage and heading up to the rest of the tower. "Beast Boy?" Starfire went to go fly after him, but was stopped when a hand rested on her shoulder; it was Cyborg's.
"Maybe we should just let him be for the time being. This trip has been hell for him, and after the whole Register incident…," Cyborg said, remembering the way his friend had reacted to the death, "he probably just needs some time alone." Cyborg hated to see his best friend in so much pain. It honestly scared him to see him breakdown like he had experienced right after the Register incident, and he knew that Beast Boy must feel horrible about the whole thing.
Starfire looked upset. She knew her young friend was in great pain, but she didn't want to leave him alone. She wanted to make him the pudding of sadness and travel to the mall of shopping with him and do whatever she could to alleviate his pain. But she understood that he also needed his time, so she would allow that to happen. For now.
The rest of the team gathered their luggage and made their way up to their rooms to unpack and get resettled. It was a major relief to be back home, and they all felt like they could finally breathe a calming sigh of relief. All but Beast Boy, that is.
As soon as the changeling had left the garage, he went straight up to his room, practically running to get there. Once his bedroom door closed and locked behind him, he collapsed to the floor, his back against his door. He held his head in his hands and stared at the floor before him as his breathing got shallower and quicker. He felt so overwhelmed at everything that had happened on the trip, and although he had been feeling the pain throughout the trip, it was all hitting him all at once now. The pain and panic he felt in his chest was ridiculously intense, and he felt like his chest and head were about to explode. He could feel the tension rising in his body, threatening to break him into a million little pieces.
I knew I wouldn't have been accepted in the village. How could I have been so stupid?!
Beast Boy remembered all of the hurtful words that had been spoken to him, and all the violent outbursts against him.
I should've know that they would have dragged my friends down with the hate too. I shouldn't have been so ignorant.
He remembered how his friends were treated poorly simply by being associated with the green changeling.
How could I have expected to save all those children? It's incurable! I'm just some mutant who was able to survive by a freakish turn of events…
He remembered all the sick and dying children in the medical facility. He remembered watching the children die right in front of him, and knowing just how much gut-wrenching pain they were in. And he couldn't do a damn thing about it. He could just watch them as they took their last breaths, knowing that they were going to a better place.
He could feel the pressure rising and rising in his veins, becoming more and more unbearable as the time passed. Even though all this had happened in a matter of seconds, it felt like hours to Beast Boy. Many long, painful hours. His teeth clenched down and grinded against one another as if that would somehow stop the ache dwelling up inside him. Of course, it only added to the heaviness he felt.
He suddenly stood up and began to sloppily walk towards his desk. His eyes had tears lining them, blurring his vision. He ruffled through his desk drawers in a desperate search. He knew he needed this. He didn't care what it meant. He didn't care what it'd do. He just needed it, and he needed it now.
He remembered when he was fighting Register back in the lab. Register pulled the knife on him, shocking the entire team. When he lunged it down at him, he braced his face from the blade's impact. It, instead, sliced through his arms, causing the skin to break smoothly and for the warm, warm blood to drip through. Although he hadn't realized it at the time in the heat of the moment, the knife slice had triggered something within him. Ever since that dreaded moment where that blade broke his skin, he had craved it. That craving only grew more and more intense as time went on and as his agony amplified in intensity.
Soon, he found what he was looking for. It was a small, blue pencil sharpener, rarely used, if ever at all. He threw it down at his desk with all his might, his fist shattering the plastic prison surrounding the silver release. He unscrewed the blade from the contraption and discarded the now unusable plastic remains.
He stared at the blade briefly. He saw how it glistened ever so slightly in the lights of the room. Or, perhaps, it was just his tears glistening instead. He didn't know, and frankly, he didn't care.
He pulled his sleeve up, exposing his old, scarred, green skin. His once smooth skin was littered with old, bumpy scars. Some of the more shallow scars had faded to an odd white color, but the deeper ones had remained a dark greenish purple color. The most prominent scars he saw, though, still belonged to his wrists. Two deep vertical gashes to each wrist from when he was a young child. It should have killed him. But, of course, no. Random strangers had to come by in the jungle and save him. He remembers waking up in a pool of his own blood with those strangers looking down on him. His wrists had been poorly patched up, but patched up nonetheless. The strangers had saved him, and Beast Boy still hadn't decided after all these years if he was grateful or not. In this moment, though, he was not grateful. Not at all.
He broke from his memory and remembered where he was. He pressed the blade down on his wrist and started to slice away at it. Having not done it in years, he was not used to the pain it brought. He started shallow, not having the energy to go any deeper. The first few cuts came slowly, each one requiring thought. After those few though, they came more and more rapidly, and soon his green wrist was red and stinging. Despite the burning pain, he felt relief. He sat down on the ground, his back to his desk, and watched the blood drip from his wrist. He didn't go deep enough to put him in the hospital, let alone kill him. Just enough to relieve the pain temporarily.
He felt his eyes growing drowsy. He got up and hid the blade in his desk.
They can't find out about this. They can't know I do this…
He had never told the team about his past with self-harm and depression, and he had definitely never told them about his suicide attempt as a child. If they, specifically Cyborg, had ever noticed his arms when he was in the med-bay, they never mentioned it. All heroes had battle scars littering their body, so perhaps his weren't even in question as something more. They must've had no idea, and he wanted to keep it that way.
He cleaned up the blood on his wrist, but didn't bother to bandage it. It was mostly done bleeding anyway, and he didn't care if it stained his clothing or his sheets. They were, for the most part, too dark to show the potential blood stains anyways.
He looked at his suitcase that sat against the wall next to his door. Unpacking could wait until tomorrow. He just couldn't do it now. He climbed into bed on the top bunk, the only bunk he ever really slept on, and buried himself under the piles of blankets and drifted off into a restless sleep.