Chapter Text
Gripping the countertop edges so that they dug into her palms, Mabel leaned forward and locked eyes with the girl in the mirror. She stood like that for minutes, heart pounding as thoughts ransacked through her mind. You should know better than this by now, you never learn from your mistakes. There's always one thing you can try, you know. The mug of Fruity Flakes and milk seemed heavy as a brick in her stomach. If you can't just puke it up because Dipper might hear, and he won't buy another 'oh if it comes out the front door it won't uninvite itself out the back, leaving a rumbly tummy,' not after showing you all those articles you already saw about sore throats and tooth decay then maybe, just maybe it would be better to just not fucking eat it next time.
Her fingers twitched, anticipating where she was consciously headed. You've got a fresh razor in your bag beneath the sink. With a little pressure it would cut, easy. So if you're gonna let yourself be a whore for food, then maybe some more 'accidental nicks' should join your thighs to match those red stretch marks.
Mabel let out a near-silent exhale through her mouth, then slowly got down to her knees. Quiet as a mouse, she opened the cupboard and lifted out her small bag of shower stuff, the glittery rainbows barely shimmering in the dim light. This is a bad idea, but who cares. It's not like anything is going right in your life anyways. With a hand doing it's best to mute the noise, the other slowly pulled down the gold zipper.
With a cringe at the crinkle of the clear plastic window in the pouch, Mabel extracted her lotion before prying past a couple plasic-wrapped pads and tampons, reaching the razor tucked beneath a hotel soap bar still in it's packaging. She found the handle and pulled it out swiftly, willing the miniscule avalanche to pass as the creaks of the house in the wind. Her mouth twitched into a grim smile. That's one bonus of living here, I guess. No 'normal' for Dipper to notice me up at midnight in.
The floor was cold and the grout lines prominent as her calves pressed into the floor as Mabel sat back on her ankles, popping the safety cover off the blade. It was summer now, so she lifted up the hem of her nightgown and hovered the razor above the bare skin of her side. It has to be high enough that it won't show if I ever squeeze myself into a swimsuit, so I guess this'll do. She pushed down the fabric of her shorts just a bit, then placed the razor down and dragged the blade across skin with a slight pressure.
It stung, the sharp air hitting newly exposed nerves, and Mabel lifted off the razor before pulling the skin, showing the tiniest signs of blood in the shallow cuts. Letting go and pulling her waistband all the way back up, she relished the lasting hurt as she capped the blade. This time the lotion went in first and the razor second, resting on top for next time. She put away the bag and closed the cupboard before making her way back to their bedroom as if she were a ghost, slipping through the ajar door, letting it latch behind her, and climbing back into her still-warm sheets.
The bedsprings creaked as she laid down again, grabbing her yellow lamb Marshpillow and tightening her arms around it, pressing it against her chest. She stared at the wall, listening to her brother's even breathing behind her and feeling both the sting of the broken skin she was laying on and the secret she continued to grow. Her eyes soon grew heavy, and Mabel closed her eyes to sleep.
I wonder if I woke him up instead...