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Four lied in bed, miserably staring at the ceiling. She had barely moved in days, only sitting up to eat when X brought her food. Scars littered her arms, the bloody scissors she cut them with hiding under a small cloth in the top drawer of the bedside table so X and Twenty-six wouldn't find them. She hated herself, all she did was hurt people. She wished she could kill herself, but she couldn't do that to X or Twenty-six. She would only be causing more pain and suffering if she did, and then she would be even more evil than she already was.
The door slowly opened. It was X again. He walked over to the bed, fidgeting with his fingers as he spoke.
"Four? Are you alright?" X asked, causing Four to groan quietly. If it wasn't obvious already, Four was miserable. X, realizing how stupid of a question that was, spoke again.
"S- sorry... That was a stupid question.. Its gonna be okay though, Four. I love you."
"mmmm... love you too...." Four said quietly. She didn't understand why X loved her, but she wanted X to know she loved them a lot as well. Four's life was mostly static, she would wake up, do nothing, eat, and then go to bed, but small moments like these made it a little more bearable. X then left, leaving Four alone again.
Infinity, she hated herself. She was so pathetic she couldn't even get out of bed. She shouldn't even be this miserable, the EXIT thing didn't happen to her, she was the one who carried it out, not one of the victims, so why was she suffering? She obviously deserved to feel bad, but at the same time she didn't deserve to feel bad about that specifically. She felt like she was making everything about her, which made her hate herself even more. She tried to think back to what X said. Maybe they were right, maybe one day she would be okay...? The possibility seemed slim, however, and even by entertaining the idea she might eventually be okay she felt like she was lying to herself.
Four burrowed deeper into her bed, trying to soothe her deep sense of self-hatred and despair, but it didnt work. If anything, it made it worse. She felt so, so pathetic. She hated herself so much. She felt like she was about to cry. She knew she didn't deserve to, though, so she stopped herself from doing so. She borrowed even into her blankets, her repeated attempts to soothe herself only making her feel more and more pathetic and undeserving of any sort of love or care.
She knew feeling this way was bad, but she couldn't stop the extreme self-hatred in her heart. She was evil, and nothing would change that. So she stayed in bed, where she could hurt nobody, the threat contained. It wasn't like she could muster up the strength to get up anyways, she was too depressed for that. Infinity, she was useless.
Her self-hatred continued to build up, until the tears she was aggressively holding back managed to spill out. The aggressive self-hatred continued to eat at her, causing her to cry harder, which caused the self-hatred to become more aggressive. She shouldn't be crying, she didn't deserve it. She was so weak. Negative thoughts filled her mind, her self-hatred far too much for her to handle.
Eventually the tears faded, but the self-hatred didnt. She still hated herself so, so much. She wished she never hurt them, never trapped them. She wished she was a good host, a good friend, a good person. but she wasnt, and nothing could change that. It might be technically possible, but she didn't know how and with the horrors of what she did surely nobody would be willing to teach her. So she'd just stay in bed, suffering forever and ever like she deserved.