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Kris’ hand shook with the edge of the knife pressed against their skin.
The muscles in their thigh trembled below their other hand as they tried to hold it steady.
They feel scared; they have a hard time remembering how they got here in the first place with their knife against the quivering thigh, skirt riding up while they rest on the floor against their bed. All they know is this used to feel familiar once, and now it’s frightening them as if it were their first time with the blade.
Without play, the knife grows dull.
Kris did not know how long it had been exactly since they had last cut themself. They had stopped counting the days when it became easier to count months instead. And then they had stopped counting at all because it didn’t matter. It had become a thing of the past. They used to cut and then they hadn’t in a long time and the urge had become a scream heard less and less often in their head. That’s all it was.
But now it was back and before they could have talked themself down they had the knife drawn and the door bolted. And for all that they couldn’t stop themself from arriving here, now they had been sitting in this position – body wracked with tremors – for the past hour, getting no closer to slashing or to removing the knife.
Their breathing was picking up every so often. Their thoughts alternating between frustration at not letting go of the knife and hatred at how weak and cowardly it made them feel to not be able to go through with it now. Were all these dramatics for nothing, were they just going to chicken out now?
Please don’t start now, another voice in their head begs.
They steel themself again, pressing the blade down harder. But their arm seems to not want to cooperate, going stiff as if being pulled back by an outside force.
Kris starts hyperventilating, trying to get their arm to just fucking move.
It’s just you, it is just you here.
It is just them.
They just need to… prove it to themself.
It is just them, they get to decide what happens here.
What if it is back? a terrified voice whispers.
Then they just need to snatch the control back from it; that is all.
But they haven’t done this in so long, they had forgotten what this actually felt like. Right down to the anticipation before the cut arrives.
Kris inhales sharply and slices.
The angle is all wrong. Their hand falters at the last moment, losing strength and leaving behind a cut that is more a shallow scratch. It barely bleeds.
They feel hot nauseating anger churn in their stomach. All that build up and they are incapable of even leaving a proper cut.
Disgusting.
The fury rises. The next slice comes with all that vicious contempt, sure and practised and brutal – and drives a massive gash into the side of their thigh.
It is just a pale white at first – just skin and flesh splitting open, like the top of a loaf of bread before it gets shoved in the oven. And for a moment, Kris can pretend it is only that – just skin giving way, being pulled apart, no other significance to it.
Then the edges of it start weeping droplets of blood, as if sweating it out in unsure drips. Slowly the middle catches on and the gash fills up, pooling and bulging in a meniscus till the surface tension breaks all at once and the pool deflates, a thick drop of blood falling off the edge of the cut downwards, creating a steady stream for more to follow.
It glugs on like a lazy river, crimson against their skin, mesmerising to gaze at.
Kris’ hands have stopped shaking. Their head is quiet.
A morbid calmness washes over them.
They place the knife just below the cut, and make a deeper gash. They keep going, tightly packing the cuts together. They don’t need the strength and the hate anymore. It’s pure technique.
Just as it should have been from the start.
How clumsy it is to get back on the bike after years of disuse. And yet, as the saying goes, something you can never forget.
The first gash flows slower, clots starting to form and slip. Kris moves a finger around in the coagulating blood, dusting some of the drying blood on the corners. Blood is so much stickier than it ever is in their memory, once the clots form. They move their hand through the thinner rivulets from the new cuts, marvelling at the distinct difference in texture.
They sit back, their muscles relaxing from the metallic twang in the air. Every so often they lightly disrupt the developing clots with the tip of their knife, scraping it around the wounds and feeling very little of it.
It is odd to have nothing on the mind except the present moment. It is what many strive for.
And here Kris has it – just them, the cold evening breeze, the red of the blood, the warm, wet feeling of it under their fingers. Just this. Just them here right now. And their phone that is ringing.
And Susie who is talking on the other end when they pick up the phone.
She asks something. They should respond.
“Mhm…”
“Whatever, dude. Did you study for the test tomorrow? I totally forgot! And Alphys has been on our asses ever since she started dating Undyne ugh. You don’t know what I have to see living here, Kris. She’s like… saying hi to me in the hallway at our building now! Who does that?”
They hear the words and let them join the symphony of the present moment that they are anchored in. It’s hard to say exactly what the words mean. Kris will assume they mean something though, if Susie is saying them. They should say something too. She asked a question.
“Yeah, it is…”
“… Dude, you good? What’s going on?”
Nothing at all.
“I’m good.”
“You don’t sound too good.”
Kris hums. “I cut myself.”
She stops speaking. Then – “I’m coming over.” The line goes dead.
She’s coming over.
It takes another few minutes for Kris to understand those words mean Susie will be here soon.
By the time Susie can be heard downstairs, Kris has shaken off some off the earlier numbness. In its place, an ever-growing, paralysing dread has made its home in their chest.
Their heart is beating too fast, their skin feeling a little clammy, and their thoughts falling over each other in a hurry to be heard out. Their head has a lot to say after all, about the absolute clusterfuck they have engendered today.
Presently there is a loud frantic knock on the door. Kris reaches up from their spot on the floor, quickly unlatching it.
Susie enters and immediately bolts the door behind her again.
Smart.
She looks at their face bewildered, then at their bloody hand that dropped the knife a while ago. They had pulled the skirt back down but the blood is seeping through, and Kris can tell the exact moment she notices from her eyes focusing in.
She hasn’t spoken still. They wonder if that’s a bad sign.
Susie drops down clumsily beside them, lifting the skirt to check the wounds. She sucks in a sharp breath.
“Kris… Why…?”
She looks up and meets their eye then, and Kris is sure they are doing a piss poor job of hiding their growing panic. Where do they go from here?
They are pulled into a hug. Rather violently, but it’s just what they need right then, Kris’ arms coming up where they are squeezed between their bodies, hands fisting Susie’s jacket.
Susie surrounds them completely. They see nothing else, and feel nothing else, and as long as they stay here they have to think of nothing else. It’s amazing how Susie could always make them feel so small and so safe for it. They knew she would understand them implicitly. And the times she wouldn’t, she would still have their back. In the sanctuary of her embrace they could let themself be nothing at all – and just let Susie handle the rest.
Her chin is on their head, blocking any light from falling into their eyes. Her large hands hold them firm against her chest – so sure, always, like they never doubted this is exactly where Kris’ place was.
Kris has lost none of the tension. But they feel no need to hurry on letting it go either, and that in itself is a measure of calm. They can keep freaking out. Susie is here.
When they feel ready to calm down they wiggle their arms a bit and Susie loosens her hold. They wrap their arms around her neck, letting their weight fall fully against her, leaving a little peck on her jaw in thanks before hiding their face against her neck.
“’s okay Kris… I’m here,” she runs her hand through their hair. “You wanna talk yet?”
They shake their head. The breathing is quieting at last. It is nice. They want to stay with that.
“That’s okay too,” she says, her voice sounding too loud in the quiet room. She never could whisper… “But, Kris… I saw the cuts, they’re… they seem bad, dude. We should at least clean them, y’know? Your skirt is getting caught in them. We can go right back to this after we get you clean, deal?”
Kris sighs all put-upon but does lean back. Everything is too bright and they squint up at Susie’s face.
She is staring down at them all concerned, her eyebrows furrowed and mouth set grimly.
Kris kisses her snout and watches her scrunch it up before huffing. “Idiot… I’ll be right back.”
Susie is fine… And she’s not mad. So Kris is fine too.
They realise they really are.
All the urgent terrifying thoughts that have been plaguing them are gone, just the dredges of that dread still hanging around their head now… It can stay. It’s not the worst. They know they are going to be just fine.
Susie returns with a towel she has wet somewhere, still dripping water all over the floor.
She sits down and immediately groans, “Agh damnit, should have got you water too. For drinking. Should I squeeze some out from this?” she waves the towel earnestly. Her inventiveness truly knows no bounds.
Kris doesn’t need water that urgently but they nod anyway so Susie holds the towel over their open mouth and squeezes out the excess water.
Then she gets to work softly rubbing the blood off the wounds. It is tacky, either thick and slippery, or dried and catching on the edges of the cuts.
It stings at once and Kris bites down on their tongue to keep from crying out. The burn from it radiates and Kris’ thigh flinches minutely, making them aware of the pins and needles all over the leg. They whimper and Susie stops at once.
“Sorry… too harsh?”
They shake their head. “Leg’s gone numb…”
So Susie takes care of that too, slowly rubbing the feeling back into it before she continues with the cleaning.
“I thought about snooping for something to bandage and like, some cream for it or something, but your mom would have noticed.”
They nod towards their drawer, “Got bandages… no ointment though.”
Susie shrugs. “We’ll make do.”
She works in silence a few minutes, the smell of blood getting heavier. Then she asks again, “What happened, Kris? You don’t have to say too much, just… How’d it end up so bad suddenly?”
They feel oddly detached now from the events of the day. The disquiet is there but the panic has dissipated.
“I needed the control.”
“Okay… Did – um, did something happen today?”
They shake their head. “It felt like… I was losing control. Over myself. I was trying to stop but that – stopping – it felt like I wasn’t choosing it. I had to be the one to choose. I had to – I needed to show myself that I get to control what happens, otherwise it would drive me insane.”
She sits with that.
“Can’t say I get it, dude, but… Anything to keep sane, y’know? It’s alright now, you’re here… ‘s just you.”
They nod. “Thanks, Susie…”
“How do you feel now?”
They are fine.
“I’m scared,” they mumble instead. They don’t need more things staying in their head. That bubbling fear… it’s confusing.
“You’re not alone, Kris. Anything happens you tell me, got it? I’m here.”
They smile. “I know.”
They hesitate a bit before going on, “I just… hadn’t done this in so long, you know?”
Susie takes the towel away after cleaning, going to their drawer for the bandages.
“Are you worried you’ll start doing it again? Like, often?”
“No…” they think about it. It’s like piecing a puzzle together, even to themself. “No, the moment has passed. And the urge. Don’t think I will.” Susie lifts their thigh to start bandaging it with a gauze roll. It’s messy but it’ll hold. “Not that I think I won’t do it ever again, just… doesn’t feel like it will become a habit. ‘t was a one-off.”
Susie hands them a different skirt to put on and they take the opportunity to stretch out and sit on the bed.
“Then… what are you scared of?” Susie comes to sit beside them, bumping their shoulders together. Kris appreciates it more than they can say.
“It’s just…” What were they scared of? Every time they tried to think about it they seemed to hit a mental block and get even more scared.
But as they speak it starts to get clearer even to their own mind… “I always… hated myself, when I did that, Susie. Not for doing it, just… It felt like I was taking out my frustrations with myself – on myself. Because I didn’t care enough… About myself. Felt disposable, because I was angry with myself.” It makes them sick to admit it. The trembles start up again.
“And now…” they exhale harshly. Susie rubs at their back. “I hadn’t felt that in so long. The last few times I hadn’t even felt that anger, it was gone. But I felt it again, today, I felt… disgusted with myself. And I’m scared I –”
They choke on the next breath. If they were scared of thinking it, trying to say it out loud now made them feel strangled and paralysed with the terror of letting another person know.
Susie’s arm goes around their shoulders, pulling them to her. “It’s okay Kris…”
“I’m scared, Suz,” they choke out. Their eyes tear up. They try to blink the tears away but they won’t go. “I’m scared I did it after so long because… I deserved it. That I – I’m instinctively punishing myself,” their breaths turn into panicked gasps but they have to get it all out now, “and if I am, after – all this time, if I’m angry and punishing myself now it must – be for a reason, I’m scared I –” they turn to Susie fully and grab at her arms desperately, “I’m scared I’ve done something, Susie. To deserve this. I don’t know what but I’ve done something that deserves to be hated and my mind has picked up on it and I don’t – I can’t even – what have I done?”
Susie’s eyes are wide and horrified. Kris’ tears are mixing with their shuddering gasps in not-quite sobs, but they meet Susie’s gaze still, they plead that she has the answers they need.
She pulls them into her again and holds tight. Kris’ own arms go around her this time, squeezing and hitching out quiet sobs against her chest.
“Kris… Come on, man,” her voice sounds wet. Kris cries harder for it, the hate blossoming within them anew. “It’s just your brain being stupid, why the hell would it have to mean something?”
Her shirt is getting wet and sticking against their cheek uncomfortably. The burn in their thigh now makes them ache from how sorry they feel for themself. And as always, more loathing follows from the self-pity. They try to speak but their throat closes in, and every time they take in a breath they just end up sobbing it back out.
Susie holds them snug. They are secure against her and she will tell them what to think. Her palm keeps rubbing up and down their spine, warm and gentle.
“Look, Kris… Everything you say or do or think doesn’t have to mean something okay? Sometimes you’re just thinking stupid things. I should know, I think stupid things all the time!”
Kris is taking more air in now, though their shoulders still shake with suppressed sobs. Susie’s words filter in, making space in their scrambled mind.
“There’s no… I dunno, hidden meaning? I think you just freaked out about something and this is how you reacted because it calms you and it’s… y’know, like you said, you used to hate yourself when doing it, I’m sure you were just remembering that. You don’t deserve to be punished. If you’d done something that required an ass-kicking for real, I’d have given it to you already.” They huff at that and she shoves at their shoulder. “So stop treating your breakdowns like a damn murder mystery! You wanna play detective so bad, we can go to one of those stupid prison rooms Berdly keeps inviting us to.”
“Escape rooms,” Kris mumbles.
“Wrong thing to focus on, nerd.”
Kris calms enough that the exhaustion starts setting in. Feeling safe and centred at last they go limp against Susie, letting their arms rest at the bottom of her frame, not quite ready to let go fully yet.
“Hey Kris?”
“Hm?”
“I know I wasn’t there back when… this happened more often but, I’m here now. You get this way again, you can call me alright? Even if you’ve done the stupid thing already, I don’t care, you call me after and you don’t have to be alone to clean this up. I’ll,” she coughs, “take care of ya… y‘know?”
Kris’ heart warms. They pull away so they can look at her again, let her see how glad they are for her.
Let her see that they’re fine, as well.
Their lips quirk up a little and they nod resolutely.
“Okay, good,” Susie gives their shoulder a squeeze. Then looks away blushing already before she leans in to plant a quick kiss to their head.
Kris tries not to laugh but Susie sees it on their face and grumbles. Then she looks down at where they have stained the perfectly good carpet again.
“Uh, Kris? The amount of vinegar it’ll take to clean that out’s gonna make your room stink like a fish tank.”
She makes a face. Kris lets themself laugh this time.