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    Summary

    During those days where he walked in the mansion like a corpse, feeling the pain felt like he was more alive.

    The first time he did it, it was merely scratching himself, it hurt — but as time passed and he did it more frequently, it seems Porchay had gotten used to it.

    He tried to stop, but he felt uneasy not doing it, so he started using the blades of the razor he had packed with his things.

    He would cut himself at night, not too deep that he'd bleed a lot. It was always a hassle cleaning it up, he would cut himself with just enough depth to feel the pain. By morning, he'd wear long sleeves or a hoodie to hide it. He knew it was wrong, hurting himself, it would make his Hia sad.

    But as he kept doing it, he became obsessed- no- he was addicted to that feeling and wasn't sane enough to care anymore.

    “I had nothing to hold onto anymore.”

    Not his Hia…

    Not his dream…

    Not.. Kim

    Porchay thinks to himself each night— cheeks streaked with tears that dried off as the time passed.

    or, Porchay couldn't think of another way to escape.

    Language:
    English
    Words:
    5,269
    Chapters:
    3/?
    Comments:
    15
    Kudos:
    48
    Bookmarks:
    4
    Hits:
    588