Chapter Text
The silence of the circus haunts Jax's night; despite his need, he is unable to sleep or even rest his eyes. The day had been stressful, and he still couldn't believe what had happened, it was all an adventure, he was right, and he hated to think that for a moment he believed they would actually get out of that place. The rabbit could swear he felt his own lungs being crashed against his body; his mind was dizzy and his thoughts incoherent. He felt tears rapidly streaming down his face, he let out a groan, he felt vulnerable and weak. How could he still have hope? His fate was already sealed: to rot in that place until his mind was corrupted enough for him to lose consciousness. It was only a matter of time, and there was no reason to wait; waiting would hurt even more. Besides, why was he so desperate to leave? It wasn't like he had a good life out there; it would be the same shit, or maybe worse. Because giving up wasn't just a matter of waiting; he would have to do it. To distract himself from his own thoughts he stands up and goes to the bathroom, why was he going to the bathroom, he asks himself, oh to do that, and even though his mind screamed at him not to approach the drawer next to the bathtub, he did, holding his breath as he saw several scissors and bandages.
He would never get used to this, whatever it was, it didn't matter, he just wanted to forget everything and move on, but he was never able to, his talk with Pomni before the Awards show, his happy days with Kaufmo and Ribbit, his life before this hell, everything, he was cursed to never be able to forget about all the awful things he did, but somehow, he found a way to cope with it, every time he looked at his own blood sliding down his arm, a calm washed over him; it was perfect, he felt relieved, even if only for a brief moment, everything disappeared.
We were never friends
I'm learning a lot about you today
Good one, Kaufy
You are only making the joke take longer
Jax-
He hadn't even realized what he had done; his arms were red, wet, and a little sticky, his blood looked like his tears, rushing down his skin. But he wouldn't stop, he didn't wanted to, the peace was rushing over him, he needed more, more and more.
I consider you as my friend, Jax
He couldn't distinguish whose voice it was, was it Pomni's or Ribbit's? He looks up, wishing his best friends were there, even if they were mocking him, laughing at the pathetic state he was in. Above his own thoughts and cries, he can hear their voices, the laughter of Ribbit, of Kaufmo, of Pomni, and it hurt, god, it hurt a lot, he hadn't meant to be so weak and cry like a little girl, but he was in tears. His best friends had gone mad. The only person who had seen the other side of him after Ribbit and Kaufmo, he had pushed away for fear of losing her, but he had only anticipated the process.
He had nothing left, but before he could look at his own arm, he heard a crack, and suddenly his freshly made cuts had disappeared. Not that it was completely bad; he couldn't stand others pretending to care about him when they wished him the worst. But he needed proof, he needed to feel his skin healing, he just wanted someone to see and notice how hurt he was. Humor was his way of dealing with emotions in front of others, but alone in his room, all he had left were scissors and bandages, and his own despair as comfort.
We were never friends.
He heard not only once, but twice, one from his own mouth, the other from Ribbit's, he knows he can't undo the past, but what he can do is to try to escape this living nightmare, his life; he wants peace, even if he needs to cross the line to have it.
He lets a sigh out, he is tired, but he can't be as weak as he was, he can't be as weak as that little girl who haunts him, his old self.