Work Text:
One by one, the bandages fall from her face.
Each one peels away to reveal another layer of the cotton mask adorning her, covering her.
They never end. Not when a nosey classmate tries to get a peek. Not when the nurse girl expresses concern for her. Not when the talented boy correctly guesses what they cover, even if he can’t work out the reason.
Nobody knows why they’re there.
Nobody can know why they’re there.
She can’t let them.
Finally, the last bandage drops from her face into the sink, bracing herself; she looks up.
It never feels right, seeing what's become of her face.
She would rather the bandages be her skin.
She can’t stop herself from staring into the gaping hole where her eye used to be.
“See no evil”.
Drawn into the abyss, she finds herself reliving each part of its creation.
The Spoon
The Shard of Glass
The Burn of hot iron against flesh
The wound is bleeding again; it has never truly stopped.
She places her hand over the wound and flinches.
Blood shouldn’t be that color.
Pulling new bandages from under the counter, she begins the process of rewrapping.
Each wrap causes a slight pain; the wound has never fully healed.
Each wrap is a reminder of why she did this to herself. Each wrap is a fractured memory.
Wrap.
She was always allowed to cover one eye, to shield herself from the horror. To see no evil.
Wrap.
She pulls a blade from the chest of a man she doesn’t know
Wrap.
They pat her on the back; they call her a good boy; she wasn’t her yet.
Wrap.
A kick to her ribs, move through the pain. Get it done.
Wrap.
They make her help them; they hide another body. The families won’t get closure
Wrap.
It’s Her 14th Birthday
Wrap.
She kills her father. By blood? She never knew
Wra- her hand falters, she feels something wet; she looks back into the mirror.
Oh, she’s crying, she presses on.
Wrap.
Her body doesn’t feel right
Wrap.
She realizes she’s a woman
Wrap.
She has freedom, but what does she do with it?
Wrap.
Does she even deserve it?
Wrap.
The least she can do is help people find closure. Closure she was made to rob from those before.
Wrap.
She’s a Mortician now. Her skillset seems to have some kind of use still.
Wrap.
A damn good one, who would have thought? Her of all people.
Wrap. Almost done. But of course, that also means she's in the hardest part. The worst of the memories.
She looks in the mirror, her body is wrong, she still has both eyes.
Wrap. Please let it end.
She raises the spoon, towards the eye that she wasn’t allowed to cover.
“See no evil”
Wrap. Please God let it end.
She raises the glass with the other hand.
Wrap. Please...
Sharp pain; she scoops harder. Cutting deeper in. Her grasp slips, a cut under her good eye.
Wrap.
Her face is covered in blood
Wrap. She whimpers lightly.
Cauterizing the wound.
Wrap.
The smell of burning flesh.
Wrap.
It's over.
She looks in the mirror, for a moment she sees who she was those years ago. A frightened young girl, loose tank top barely filled in by the couple of months of being on medication. A face covered in bright pink, pooling down her chin and into the sink. A young girl who hadn’t realized how hard she’d been biting her lip, enough to draw even more blood.
Then she blinks and that girl is gone. She places her hand over the bandages. Firm.
She sighs and faces herself, for the final time this evening, this run of the loop.
She repeats the one thing that has gotten her through this each time. A phrase that she knows means nothing, for covering one eye did not stop her from seeing what they did, what she did. Nor did it stop her from hearing it.
“See no evil”
