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friend or whatever it is was after him. he had been seeing, hearing, dreaming things. smiling faces, pink and yellow eyes following him everywhere, hanging figures, help calls, black silhouettes of zappers, shadowguys and even tenna and the mailman. his mind was going crazy, and there was no escape. every dream he had resulted in him vomiting, every time he passed out he woke up next to tbe theory board with some paper in his hand. like something was forcinn him to theorize, to find the answer. so, he decided to do just that.
battat had been infront of his desk for 3 days, only moving to get more energy drinks, coffee and going to the toilet. he hadnt eaten anything, hadnt left the mike room, hadnt had fresh air for 3 days. he had been neglecting his mike duties which made tenna go crazy but he didnt care. he was so..so close yet so far away. as a pippins, to think more clearly, he coulve just spun his head and continue writing. but he had tried that for 29 times and it hadnt worked. battat was screwed in that way. he was extremely unlucky, even betting on 3 points could get him to lose. thats why he had other ways to cope, more destructive ones. the tame ones wasnt doing him anything. he hated having to meditate, draw or do whatever else ramb offered him to do. he opted for cutting instead, finding the relief better than drawing some stupid flower over and over.
he got up from his spot, back aching, legs shaking. he always felt nervous going into his room. it was messy and organized in a way he found pleasing to the eye, his bed not being slept on, starting to collect dust. he went over to the desk, searching for the box cutter in the drawers. he got the cutter, dragging his feet back to the desk in the living room he had placed. going to his room was simply too much of a work. he sat back onto his uncomfortable chair, lifting his legs up so his knees was against the table, making his feet hang in the air. he liked this position just because his legs could go numb and he couldnt feel their aching. he took the cutter from his pocket, lifting his poncho a little bit to reveal his wrist. the previous scars were fading away. he didnt really care about that, but what he cared about right now was the relief he was expecting. he draped the cutter onto his wrist, dragging slowly and pressing hard. a thin line appeared, then slowly became red. he moved his hand up, dragging the cutter in another spot, and another, and another... 9 cuts later, his wrist was covered in his own blood, already starting to dry. battat felt a smile creeping up to his face, something he couldnt force down. it was simply there. he got up, placing the box cutter into one of the drawers in the kitchen, then heading to the bathroom. he opened the sink, staring at the red stripes across his wrist. he stared for a while, then cleaned up the excess blood. he dried the area with a paper towel, letting rest of the blood pool in his scars. he draped his poncho back over his wrist, hiding the evidence. his head felt more clearer now, like he could think better. he felt better too. ramb didnt neet to know, nobody needed to know. this was his little secret, along with the other secrets.