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It's early in the morning, so early that Trowa is still sleeping. I'm sitting in our bedroom"s adjoining bathroom,
leaning my back against the bathtub. The house is silent and dark; I hate the quiet. It forces me to acknowledge and listen
to the thoughts in my head. I laid in bed for a while before I came in here, having to distract myself.
Of course,
my one-track mind brings back the thoughts of that night that changed everything. But this time it's different. I relive that
night in an uninterested numbness. I can remember all the senses, but the emotions that usually accompany them when I remember,
don't emerge. The memories flash through my mind and I don't even bother to stop them. The only thing I can feel is the darkness
that lead me through that night.
It was that same darkness that occupied my mind and made me live through the whole
night in a black haze. That whole night, that is, up until that man's body fell to the ground.
I had lain in bed, staring
off into the darkness that is three forty two in the morning. Listening to Trowa breathing behind me, I recognized the strange
feeling in my heart. I loved him, but I didn't. Both feelings at the same time controlled me. Since that night I had been
so distant from him, and a part of me is glad for that. I finally decided to get up and come in here, finally giving in to
the voice in my head that called for me to return to an old habit.
Thankfully, Mr. Wakes-at-the-drop-of-a-pin remained
asleep as I came in here, closed the door behind me and situated myself.
Pain courses through me as I run the razor
along my wrist, cutting into the skin and drawing out blood from my veins. I welcome the feeling of familiarity it holds and
the relief it brings. I wait, gladly taking the pain as it drives away the numbness that has consumed me for the past few
days.
I pull my legs tight to my chest, the bleeding arm extended at my side, and rest my forehead on my knees. Tears
overflow and I don't bother to hold them back.
I am just so fucking confused... A million emotions and contending
thoughts swirl inside me and nothing seems to be able to stop them long enough for me to decide anything. Each thought has
its own opinion and each one is fighting for control, brewing a war that threatens to split my head in two. A part of me is
crying its heart out, trying to get me to stop moving the razor, weeping for the pain that I feel both from before and from
now. Another part of me is simply satisfied with the bit of familiarity. Another part deceptively whispers that I should just
end it all. Still, another part is screaming at the top of its lungs, yelling at me to go back in the bedroom, wake up Trowa
and talk to him. It's this part that desperately tries to convince me to let him hold me and comfort me and to listen when
he says it will all be ok.
But this voice is too overwhelmed. It's harder to ignore the pain.
Frustrated with
my current thought process, I pick up the razor and cut myself again. I take deep breaths and just let the thin stream of
blood trickle onto the floor.
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