Work Text:
Teto traced her thumb across her teeth, growling at the sharp canines that the bumps into. Sharp. Inhuman. Dangerous. Her teeth, canine-like and sharp enough to shred the flesh of man.
“Why can't I just be like them!?” She roared, punching the mirror in front of her, shattering the glass and painting the surface with droplets of wine red blood. A glowing, slitted eye stared back at her, mocking her for her inhumanity. Ugly. Animalistic. Demon.
She retracted her hand, watching the way her skin was torn, shards of glass cutting out of the cuts, the blood flowing down her fist like a tiny river of red. She muttered incoherently as she picked the glass shards out one by one, each one decorated in a shade of crimson.
One goes down.
Another follows suit.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Into the sink and clattering onto the porcelain, splattering flowers of blood onto the smooth, shiny surface. Her fist bled, more crimson flowing and dying the sink a horrible yet mesmerising pattern of whites and reds.
In fact… hurting herself like this would theoretically make her more… human would it not? She'll suffer the pain her kind has inflicted onto those poor souls. She should set fire to the cuts to add onto it… but she'll go one step at a time.
She wedged off the biggest shard of glass from the broken mirror in front of her, positioning it right at her wrist. She pressed the makeshift knife to her skin and slid it across. Droplets of red appeared on the surface. Not enough.
She cut again, still not enough.
It was never enough.
So she cut.
And cut.
And cut.
She cut until her wrist was an ugly canvas of mangled skin and tiny streams of red. It didn't hurt. Screw the pain tolerance of chimera.
Not enough to repent for the sins of her kind
She positioned her wrist to her mouth, jaws opening wide. She closed her teeth around it, blood finally splattering like a morbid paint bomb. She bit harder, then let go.
Iron attacked her taste buds, the metallic scent struck her nose. Was this what they experienced when her kind attacked?
She licked her lips, observing her canvas. The skin shredded and warped, blood flowing from the wounds like a waterfall dyed red. Finally she could get some sort of resemblance to the mangled bodies of their victims.
But it didn't hurt enough.
But it was too late to try more, she'd better take care of that wound before she passed out on the bathroom floor. Did the humans have to sleep on cold, hard floors because of her kind?
Doesn't matter, she'll deal with the rest tomorrow.
She's back in the bathroom, she wonders when she's going to get sick of those white tiles. She got through the day without much problem, she's glad she had glamour—who knows what kinds of questions she would get if she didn't.
Time to continue her artwork, the mirror was still fractured but the blood was cleaned up, leaving the bathroom pristine as it once was—she honestly missed the blood a little.
She picked up her new tool, a box cutter she got from the nearby craft store. This should work better, an item made specifically for cutting, should be able to cut through skin with no problem.
She unwrapped the gauze wrapped around her wrist, taking a look at her canvas. The skin matted and broken, dried blood crisp on the edges. She picked up her brush boxcutter and drew cut a stroke across her wrist, the red paint leaked down, dripping into the sink.
She smiled at the colour painting the splatters of red onto the white porcelain. She giggled and stabbed the boxcutter into her wrist, the stinging flaring up and spreading through her arm like an electric shock. She grinned maniacally before realising what she did.
She cussed underneath her breath and pressed a hand to her arm, watching the blood pour out like a broken faucet. She grabbed a roll of gauze from the cabinet, wrapping her arm with the bandage before sticking a piece of medical tape onto the edge to keep it together.
“Shit… I didn't mean to go that far…” Teto groaned at the bloodied box cutter and sink. She didn't want to clean that up but she had to as to not leave any trace of her… activities.
She looked in the broken mirror, that slitted eye still mocking her. She growled again, glaring at that stupid pane of reflective glass.
She didn't even get to finish her artwork…
Back to the white room. Tiles and blinding lights straining her eyes. Time to continue her artwork.
She stared at the mirror, still mocking her. It always mocked her. Her eyes, teeth, ears and even skin. Everything mocked her. The windows, mirrors and lakes all mocked her.
Click. A flame stood alight from the nozzle of the lighter, the warm light reflecting against the glass. She grinned, the beauty of the fire mesmerizing and enticing.
She unwrapped her canvas, revealing her masterpiece of dried blood and itching skin. She brought the flame closer, ready to add her newest addition to her work of art.
The fire licked her wrist, the pain starting to sting and eat at her skin. The redness started to spread, starting to blister and swell. The pain was shocking and pleasurable.
She cried, the tears streaming down her face. Was this how the humans felt when they burnt down their homes and shelters? No… they experienced worse, but she didn't want to end this paradise.
She doesn't know how long she's been there, holding that wonderful flame to her wrist. By the time she took the flame away, her wrist was broken, white and leathery, leaking plasma into the sink.
Drip
Drip
Drip
Drip went the clear yellow plasma into the sink, flowing down the drain. Her wrist stung, but it felt good. She could finally feel a fraction of the pain her kind has induced on humans.
She turned the lighter off, shutting the flame away. She turned the sink, water rinsing the rest of the plasma left in the porcelain bowl.
She cleaned up and wrapped her wrist in another round of gauze, setting the first aid box back into the overhead cabinet. Cleaning was a pain but it was worth the pleasure.
“Hah… what a mess” she closed the bathroom door behind her.