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What's going on? What is that sound?
A loud banging reaches my ears again and again. I want to turn my head
to see what it is, but I suddenly realize that I can't move. There is no energy in my body and it surprises me that I am so
conscious, yet paralyzed. It scares me at the same time.
I can, however immobile the rest of my body seems to be, open
my eyes. White. I see a white ceiling. With a light fixture in the middle of it. I know that light fixture. Its the one in
our...
The banging gets louder and it is soon joined by the urgent yelling of a voice. Wait. I know that voice. Why
is Trowa yelling? What is that damn banging?
There is an even louder crash and the banging stops. Trowa's voice is
getting closer now and I can feel his hands on me. He sits me up and I can see his face now. He's almost unreadable, his face
being a mixture of so much emotion. Mostly I notice the fear in those green eyes. I want to ask him what's wrong but my body
is still so numb.
Holding my face, he checks my pupils and, seeing that I am ok in that area, proceeds to do something
beyond my field of vision. I do however, catch a glimpse of red. Blood. Who's blood? Mine. Something inside me tells me that
it's my blood and another something registers that that is why I am so weak. But why am I bleeding?
Then there is pressure
on my wrists and I remember. Oh, God... what happened? I remember the razor and the oh, no. I look around frantically, trying
to find out something, but all I can see is Trowa's scared face. His eyebrows are knitted together, his eyes narrow and his
face tense and stressed. His face gives off so much emotion it scares me; something very bad must be happening for him to
look like this. The fear in me rises.
I can finally see my wrists. One is wrapped tightly in a washcloth while the
other is in the process of being wrapped. Trowa's hands work fast and my mind pieces together that he must have found me like
this. Did I pass out?
I can vaguely hear him speaking to me, his frightened voice telling me to hold on. Hold on? Hold
on to what? Why? What the hell is going on?
I close my eyes as a small moan escapes my throat. I concentrate and try
to remember... I woke up, I was cutting my wrists and then... nothing. I can't remember anything past that.
I must
have passed out. Why else would Trowa be helping my slit wrists? How else would he even know about it unless I passed out
in the middle of it. It is one of the few things I was too ashamed of to tell him. He must have woken up and tried to get
into the bathroom. I think I remember locking it when I came in. Yes, I must have because he had to bang on the door and,
from the sound of it, break the lock to get in. So what does that mean? How long was I lying here?
Panic invades my
mind and the only thing I want to do at that moment is stop time and throw myself into Trowa's scared arms.
I can feel
a strong wave of pain shoot through my right arm as he tightens the bandage. It is already soaked in blood, as is the area
around it. The pain is too much. Why does it hurt so much? This has happened before, with one of my sisters in Trowa's place.
But the bandages didn't hurt this much that time. Ah! More pain, only this time it travels up both of my arms at the same
time. I feel like my arms are on fire and being sliced by knives at the same time. Why does it hurt so much?
A thought
reaches my mind as I feel Trowa picking me up. Did I cut too deep? I am usually so careful about it, but this time I wonder.
The pain definitely feels like I cut too deep... and the pool of blood in the bathroom would back that theory.
So what
does this mean? Am I going to die? God, I don't want to die... Almost every feeling a person can have floods my mind. Panic
and fear and regret and pain and love and hatred and depression and anxiety and numbness and hopelessness and discontent and...
I could go on forever. It all comes as a tidal wave in on my soul, like a thousand daggers ripping at my heart. I think about
all that has happened - the warehouse, the murder, the numbness. I think bout all that I did - the murder, the detachment...
God, what did I do?
Regret is the strongest of the emotions at this point. Regret for killing the wrong man, but mostly
regret for what I put Trowa through. I look up at his urgent face as he moves me to the bed and reaches to the phone. I pushed
him so far away, but he still is trying to save me. I held such hatred towards him and even now I don't know why. I do love
him and all I want at this moment is for him to hold me. I want to be near him because I took advantage of him being there
for me from the beginning. I regret snapping at him, rolling away from him, fighting him off, ignoring his words of comfort.
Most of all I regret not listening to that voice that told me to do all of the above. I have been such an ass.
While
when I entered that bathroom I really could have cared less whether or not I died, now, lying on the bed, staining the sheet
with my blood and watching Trowa call 911, die is the last thing I want to do.
But a blackness dances on the edge
of my vision and I thing I am losing consciousness. The little energy my body seems to hold slowly escapes and, too weak to
stay open, my eyes slide shut. I want so badly to open them again and see Trowa's face, no matter how frightening it is, but
I can't.
I cut too deep. How could I? Now I have absolutely no more energy left and I can't fight the blackness anymore,
so I let it take me.
~ ~ ~ ~
Owari
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