Work Text:
"Please... let me out. I promise I'll be good. I promise I'll be nice, I promise. P-Please... don't leave me here..."
(You're scared of the dark?)
"I'm hungry... I'm scared... please just let me out. Please."
(Don't be scared. Please, don't cry...)
Her name is Jill.
"Her name is Jill," a younger Toko would lie, scrambling for scraps of approval. "She's my best friend!"
They never did believe her, until Jill had the blade of a knife pressing against their windpipe, smiling at their screams.
(Don't touch my friend)
She is my friend.
(You don't have to hurt because of them)
The closet is so cold, so dark, and Toko can't sleep thanks to the growling in her stomach.
She's so sad... hurting too much to sleep.
(You're never alone) Jill would whisper, and Toko would close her eyes and imagine Jill's warm arms around her, a sister she never had.
She was my friend.
"I don't want you to hurt them anymore," Toko whispers, staring at the scissors embedded into the wall. "I don't want you to hurt anyone! Please, stop!"
(I'm protecting you)
They never do quite connect.
(I want what's best for you)
"I... why?"
So much blood on her hands, so much blood on the scissors, so much blood everywhere. All her fault, all her own fault thanks to her weakness.
(This is what's best for you)
Jill is a killer.
"No, no no no no..."
Her pen, arcing through the air with the dark red of blood, page after page written in a scribble so unlike her own elegant calligraphy. Not written by her.
(I am protecting you, Toko)
"Leave me alone!"
She is a killer.
The blood staining her hands, the blood splattered all over her face as she forces the knife in again and again, tears streaming down her face.
This is what's best for her.
(This is what's best for you)
Jill is hurting others for her.
"Stop it, Jill! Please! Please, just leave me alone!"
Warmth around her midsection, a whisper-soft breath passing her ear. Physical contact breaking the haze that seems to cover her vision nowadays, forcing her back to the grim, dark reality.
(You still need me, Toko)
She is broken.
She screams, clutching at her head as she falls to her side. Her image is distorted by the shards of glass littering the floor, but she can see enough.
A fractured girl, blood dripping from her hands.
(Do you hate me, Toko?)
"Yes," Toko sobs, curling in on herself. The glass moves in its way of gleaming fragments, drawing small lines of blood with each touch. "I hate you so much..."
(What does that mean if I'm you, Toko?)
She never has an answer for that.
She has to protect them. Protect the people who only looked at Toko.
(Let me out, Toko)
"No," she sobs, the hurt in her voice apparent. She's honestly still surprised she has more tears to cry.
(Let me out)
"I won't let you hurt my friends!"
Silence.
(They're not your friends, Toko. Do you think they'd look twice if they knew me?)
"You aren't me!" she screams, clutching the scissors tightly in her grasp. Thin lines of blood appear on her palms, soon weeping blood to match Toko's tears. "You're not me!"
(I'm part of you, Toko)
"You're not me! You're not!"
(Oh, Toko, Toko, Toko)
(You never were much good at lying, now, were you?)
With a deep, heaving sob, she drives the scissors into her heart, tears streaming down her cheeks.
(What are you doing! Stop it! You're going to kill us!)
"I won't let you hurt them!" she gasps. The scissors slip out of her blood-soaked grip and clatter to the floor, tools that have served their purpose.
(They're not your friends!)
"They're better friends than you!"
(Stop it, Toko!)
"No, Jill! I have to stop you! No matter what!"
Her vision fades and she crumples, a smile crossing her face.
"I'm sorry, Jill."
(I know)
She goes down with a smile on her face and blood seeping out of her chest, pooling on the smooth tile floor.
They find her with death in her eyes and scissors buried in her heart.