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The door clicked just a bit too loud, the lights shined too bright, and the mirror reflected a face too far gone. Ze felt the weight of gravity crushing down more than normal. All he wanted was to see Regect and Moe again, the real version of his friends. But he didn't even know if the sink he was gripping so hard onto was another trick. Another trap. Another humiliation.
What if nothing was? What if that delusion was real, and everything he ever knew was fake instead? All the hours spent, all the memories made, all the stupid, useless fights and situations they got in. It was all fake, wasn't it? Every second of it? That's the headspace Ze was in when he returned from the hole. Everything was left just as he remembered before going down. They all left and gave up on you, Ze, a part of him whispered. Was it the eyes? Was it back again to make a fool of him? No, I don't believe it. It can't be, he heard his voice in his head say.
But no matter how loud his own voice was, Ze couldn't get himself to believe it.
Tinnitus rang deep in his ears as the first of many gut-wretching sobs escaped his throat. He didn't know how loud he cried, he just heard the sink running and his own voice in his head again. Screaming this time: NOT TRUE, NOT TRUE, NOT TRUE!! LIES! IT’S ALL A LIE AGAIN!! WAKE. THE FUCK. UP.
The voice broke as he did. Gravity finally won as he crumpled like a piece of paper, hitting the icy tile hard. It felt like the weight of a thousand Earths pulled his chest down. Down, down, down again. All over again. Breaths came in shallow, ragged breaths, choked by sobs. His sweat stuck to his skin and clothes, but Ze didn't feel it. It was a weird, new feeling. It felt…calm. Like the eye of a raging storm. He clinged desperately to this one feeling of peace as the tears kept rolling and the sobs kept choking him.
It was a pathetic scene, really. Ze curled on the ground, choking his heart out. No one home, no one to see. They all stopped looking, didn't they? As he tried feebly to gain control of his shaking and crying, a small metallic reflection caught his eye. He couldn't tell exactly what it was through the blur of tears. So he reached, just a bit. His hands shook so bad he could barely even grasp the cool metal. A switch blade?
Oh. Right.
Moe had seen a documentary of a girl getting robbed while on the shitter. She fought them off with a pocket knife she had scrambled to grab, and Moe got inspired. She placed the blade here for any of them to fight with, just in case. Such a simple memory, yet it hurt so deep it was like the blade itself twisted into Ze’s gut. The shock subsided the vine around his throat for a few seconds. It let pure oxygen into his lungs, and Ze savored the fresh air greedily like a dog. He gathered his remaining strengths to sit up and wipe away the blur in his vision. The switch was pretty heavy, slick with Ze’s sweat. The handle was a cool red with a small carabiner on the end. Not plastic, but still dollar store material. He opened the blade with trembling hands, making a soft and satisfying click. The blade itself was unused but sharp. Double sided. He caught the reflection in the smooth metal. From what he could tell, his eyes were red and wet, and dark marks ran down his face. His hair was frizzy, a few cowlicks obstructing his right eye. Bile built up in the back of his throat just from looking at the horrible state he was in. What a mess. HIs pupils were shrunk to the size of a pin despite the world feeling like a dark abyss.
No one was coming. No one will. So what's the point?
Ze brought the blade to his wrist. His breath quickened again as hesitation filled his mind. There's no reason. What if they're waiting? No one is coming for you. Don't do it. You should. Definitely.
He slowly increases the pressure. The cool metal feels inviting and soothing against his blazing and sweaty skin.
He accepts the invitation.
SWIPE!
And all thoughts seized.
The wound turned white, filling with blood. Two inches wide. The blood trickled down slowly as he stared at what he’d just done to himself. He should have felt guilty. But no one was there to feel guilty for him was there? Just Ze. No one else anymore.
He swiped again.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Again…
Till his arm was unrecognizable. No one will be there to recognize it.
Ever.
Again.
Again.
Again.
This one turned yellow. A gross, bean texture. The blood pooled and stained his old jeans. No one would notice.
Again.
He expected pain. Burning. There should’ve been.
Again.
There wasn’t.
Again.
Again.
…
Things started to look…lighter. The blood on the floor looked more red than ruby. The white glass of the toilet and sink shined brighter. The lights buzzed louder and clearer. Instead of the metallic notes that filled the bathroom, it felt like the sun shining on his skin for the first time, just like when he came out of the hole. (THATS WHAT SHE SAID HAHA ok ykw fuck you)
“Fuck…” The word came out in a in a breathy whisper. The floor was absolutely flooded in red by now. The sink was almost full with water, though the drain was open. Flesh hung off his arm, squirting blood from damaged arteries. Yet…it was peaceful. He felt light. Like he’d been standing his whole life and finally sat for the first time.
Ze leaned back against the wall, staring up at the lights. They seemed to dance, twisting and twirling into beautiful shapes. Vision began to fade into a black vignette. Closing in. Memories fade and words make no sense.
In what little Ze can see or register, a familiar claw reaches out from the white light, seemingly wanting to take his hand.
He reaches.
But his eyes close and the world turns to black before he can even touch his hand.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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“…OE…911…”
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“I NEED O- BLOOD, A GALLON…”
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Beep. Beep. Beep.
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“Will he be okay?”
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“….oma. Severe blood loss…”
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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A thread dangles above Ze’s head. Thin. Small and white.
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The floor begins to crumble.
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He grabs the thread in a panic.
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He climbs.