Chapter Text
Scott had tried to stop. He told everyone around him he would but how could he? How could he go a full day without the burning feeling of cuts embracing his skin.
The feeling of thin scabs brushing under his fingers any time he wanted to touch his body drove him mad. It had been forever since he got to feel better. Staring at his body in the mirror everyday made him sick to his stomach.
All throughout the day he’d check his wrists as if he was scared the cuts would disappear. Anytime he noticed them healing he’d have to hold back tears.
He could never bring himself to cut deep enough for any of his cuts to scar. It was always shallow cuts that’d scatter all over his body whenever he felt sad. Choosing quantity over quality just became the norm for his sick mind. No matter how much the cuts made it hard to move without rushes of pain through his body he couldn’t stop.
When he started to live with Wallace the thoughts of cutting were easier to ignore. The consistent affection distracted him.
Recently nothing about his life had actually changed but stuff felt different. Days became longer, thoughts lingered, his body yearning for even just his nails to dig into his skin, literally anything would work he just needed pain.
One particular day he felt his body cry for any pain he could find. His own thoughts tearing his head apart trying to be heard from the second he woke up. He laid in bed for about an hour trying to comprehend this feeling. After clinging to his sanity for that long hour he finally stopped trying to push back the thoughts. He forced himself up and out of bed while clutching his body, being careful not to disturb sleeping Wallace.
As his head dragged itself towards the sight of the bathroom he felt sick to his stomach. Was it really not worth trying to keep back anymore?
The feeling of his healed skin under his hands didn’t help. As he pitifully walked into the bathroom and found his blade the last bit of his rationality he had was screaming at him that it wasn’t worth it, but as he pressed the blade into his arm he was convinced that wasn’t true.
His blade was duller than he remembered but that didn’t stop him from giving himself shallow cuts all along his arms,stomach, and legs.
When he was done it was nothing short of excruciating to move. Tears fell from his eyes onto the cold bathroom floor. He could already imagine how bright red the cuts were turning by now.
He loved the pain. Feeling as if it was all worth it he let his mouth grow into a smile. Salty tears dripping into his mouth as he sat on the bathroom’s floor letting himself cry it out for a little longer.
Eventually he managed to collect himself. He checked his body for any bleeding cuts before gripping the doorknob. He thought about Wallace’s reaction to his pathetic performance of self loathing but truly couldn’t bring himself to care much. He just did what would help him be happy again. He had to do it, so there was no real issue. As he opened the door he saw Wallace sitting at the edge of their mattress rubbing his eyes.
Wallace turned his head to say good morning but quickly cut himself off when he saw bright red lines decorating Scott’s skin. Scott stared at Wallace for a while. Scott knew right then and there he wasn’t going to get better no matter who wasted their time with him. He wasn’t worth it, so he wouldn’t allow Wallace to give up any amount of his life on him no matter how much Wallace’s eyes pleaded for Scott to talk to him without any words coming out his mouth.
A quiet “im fine.” creeped out Scott’s mouth as he gave Wallace nothing but a blank stare. This was how Scott was going to be until the day he died, and Scott was willing to accept that.
Scott walked past Wallace into the kitchen ignoring the aching feeling in his heart as he got stuff out for breakfast.
A firm but gentle sounding “Talk to me Scott.” from Wallace filled the room. As Wallace’s words settled into Scott’s mind more tears unwillingly filled Scott’s eyes.