Work Text:
oh, i'm in this room again.
the floor is such a nice shade of red. it blends well with the blood dripping from my arm. i'm in this room again. when did i even get here?
i don't even realize that i've done it again. it's not a decision anymore, or a choice, or something i can stop.
sometimes i don't even get to go to the room. most times, actually, it happens at usual places. blood is everywhere; on the hardwood floors, the books, the carpet, the dirty yellow tiles, my clothes, staining them, and no matter how hard i try to remove the stain the yellowish color stays there, forever and ever to remind me that i'll never be free.
when i do make it there, the red tiles are always so cold, they make me shake. shake from the fear that one day, the tiny, cute blade turns into a chainsaw, buzzing, as it cuts through my flesh, through my bones, and slices my arm into two, the rest falling to the ground, and the blood in it flowing into a puddle, slowly around me as i bleed to death.
this image reminds me of the first time i ever used a razor blade. i’ve always used the ones from pencil sharpeners before, up until my sister bought me razor blades. i still remember the taste of the monster we bought with it to not seem suspicious.
i tried it out as soon as i got home. i took the blade against my arm and dragged it, oh so elegantly, and almost screamed when i looked at it. i didn’t know how to properly handle a razor blade, i went too deep, and the blood was flowing everywhere, dripping down my arm in tiny streams. it hurt so bad, and my arm was completely numb for months afterwards.
but now, i want it to hurt that bad. i want it to bleed. that is where i belong and that is where i deserve to be, beaten up and hurt, by myself, and maybe one day i’ll go deep enough and hit an artery, and die in a pool of crimson blood.
because that’s the cutest way to die, and peach is so adorable.