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Hunter stumbled into the bathroom with a floaty feeling. It was currently the middle of the night and he was no closer to sleep, and as he'd learned exhaustion never mixed well with his other issues.
His gaze caught on the mirror, someone had forgotten to put the cover back down- Camila had hung a piece of fabric over it after tracing the majority of his breakdowns back to it- and he caught a glimpse of himself. The soft, gentle brown eyes that looked so wrong on his face, because he'd stolen them from the first friend he'd ever had. But had his eyes ever been his in the first place? Had his body ever been his in the first place? Belos certainly hadn't thought so when he infected it and puppeted it around to hurt his friends.
His first urge was to smash the mirror but he'd already cost Camila enough in mirror damages over the past few months and did want her to have to buy yet another new one just because he felt like throwing a tantrum. So instead, he directed his emotions to himself, to the itch that permanently festered under his skin.
In the cruel reflection, he could see the branching scars covering his face from when Belos has purged himself from his body. Sometimes it felt like there was still something in there, plotting its next move, growing and waiting until it would rip through his skin once again and take something else from him.
So he dug his nails in and set himself on the task of scooping it out. It was like when Camila had to reset the bone of an animal after it had healed wrong, she'd hurt it just for a moment so it could heal. So he endured the burning sting that tried to stop him and persisted so he could heal. And when he was set on a task he found it very easy to switch off and let it happen, his old life had taught him a lot.
When he wasn't smashing mirrors and actually had the chance to see himself in them, he tried this a lot. But he'd never had the drive to fully go through with it and usually, someone would interrupt and stop him. But everyone in the house was asleep right now and he had to do this.
He clawed into his face with all his strength as blood caked his nails and dripped down his hands, warm thick blood that reminded him of that horrible green goo that had encased his arms and stretched them to hurt his friends, to hurt flapjack. He didn't want to keep hurting people, Camila was so proud of how much better he was getting, he didn't hurt people anymore like he had as the Golden Guard and he didn't want to go back to that.
He had to get it out, he knew he had to, it was right there and if he didn't get it out then bad things would happen again and he was so tired, he just wanted to rest, so he knew he had to get it over with, he pushed through the ache in his fingers and kept going.
Even if he wanted to stop he couldn't, his body moved without him and- Oh no- he didn't want to do this again, he didn't want to hurt people again, he didn't want Belos to win. He could feel the itch of the slime under his skin, waiting to lash out and he had to hurry and get it out. He could feel his awareness slipping away and that only motivated him to dig his nails in deeper and claw harder.
Then he was on the floor, the cold tile felt soothing on his burning face but he knew he was smearing blood everywhere and he didn't want Camila to be mad. There was a gentle hand carding through his hair and a voice urging him to breathe.
But he could feel the cold water encasing his body and dragging him deeper and if he opened his mouth he would choke, he'd played this game many times before.
"Breathe mijo. Come on, I know you can do it. Deep breaths."
And when he was finally at his limit he gave in and took a gasping breath and let the water flood his lungs. He was surprised to find only air.
"Good job baby, can you give me another one?"
The kind voice coaxed him into taking deep breaths until the fog around his mind started to clear and he could figure out what was going on. He was laying on the bathroom floor, covered in blood and Camila was sitting beside him, running her fingers through his hair and trying to comfort him.
He couldn't quite link his thoughts with his movements just yet so he was glad when Camila pulled him up to cradle in her arms. He wasn't in the cold water anymore, sinking to his death, he was safe with his mom, in her arms.
"Can you tell me what happened nene?"
He could barely get his thought to cooperate but he managed to stumble through a weak sentence. "Mirror... I-I could feel the-the slime, in my skin and I h-had to get it out."
"Oh mijo, there's no slime in your skin, I promise. It's just your silly brain playing tricks on you."
"I don't want to hurt people!" He wailed.
"You're not going to hurt anyone. You're safe here, remember? That horrible monster is dead and believe me, if he wasn't, I would be out hunting him down so I could make him suffer for what he did to you. He's not coming back. You've got your big strong mama to keep you safe, and just in case you also have a basilisk sister and a witch sister who would tear the world apart for you."
He looked down and caught a glimpse of his bare arms, covered in scars and he was reminded of the awful itch, he had to get it out, he didn't want to hurt Camila. With weak sobs, he dug his nails into his arms and tried to scratch.
But Camila was quick to catch on and tugged his hands away to hold in her own instead, rubbing her fingers against his bloody knuckles to try and soothe him.
"Shh baby, there's no slime in your skin remember, I promise."
He watched her shrug off her cardigan and wrap it around him instead, covering his arms like his short sleeves could not.
"'M gonna get blood o-on it." He weakly protested.
"I don't care, you can get as much blood on it as you want. I have tons of cardigans, I only have one you."
He let himself relax into her, losing track of time but trusting her to keep him safe as she dabbed a wet cloth over his wounds. He could still feel the itch in his skin but remembered what she'd promised so instead of giving in to the urge to scratch, he listened to her comforting words.
When she was done, she picked him up like a baby and carried him back to bed. She laid him down on the mattress and he grabbed at her sleeve.
"Please don't leave." He begged.
"I'm not going anywhere cariño, don't you worry."
She sat down beside him and pulled the covers over both of them. The feeling of his favourite blanket and the presence of his mom beside him were enough reassurance that he could close his eyes. She carded her hand through his hair and held him close to protect him from the horrible ideas and memories his mind wanted to drag up.
He felt safe here. With his sisters upstairs and his mom by his side, they'd all be there in the morning to eat pancakes with way too much syrup for breakfast, to laugh at each other and talk about school together, to hug each other and tell him how much they loved him.
But for now, he could lay in his cosy bed and know that they'd protect him and love him no matter what and he could sleep.