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Another failed experiment.
Another. Failed. Experiment.
It’s to be expected. Scientists never get anything right the first try. It’s all about perseverance and patience. Even if luck was on their side there will always be something wrong. To hell with that.
Elias paces around his lab, muttering under his breath. “No, that’s not right. What if I changed this? I already did that…” On and on he goes about his new experiment. Usually it wouldn’t matter to him, he’d smile, and try again. But this time, it’s to distract him. If he didn’t do something, he’d basically be stuck listening to his own thoughts.
This wasn’t the first time Elias stresses over his place in this group. Yeah they found family in the weirdest way, and even ensuring that none of them are left out despite their initial attitudes. He loves them all, but what if it’s too little? What if he just brought them all on a wild goose chase? He doesn’t feel like he’s doing enough. He does his experiments just to distract himself, to make him think he’s actually doing something, but even those continue to feed his quickly gathering swirl of thoughts. More and more pile up, bad decisions, past regrets, future choices that’s yet to even happen.
The scientist continues his pacing, his thoughts growing frantic. His mind becomes frazzled and all he sees is red. A flash of silver suddenly stops Elias in his tracks. Sitting there, oh so innocently, is a penknife. It’s the penknife. The one item that stays clean despite the mess around him. That one item that both ensured he stayed alive while killing him at the same time. Fuck it.
All the stress and anxiety all focused into one thought.
Click click click.
The sharp blade makes contact with his skin. He takes a breath, and presses it into his arm.
Just a few today.
Lies.
One. Two. Four, ten, sixteen.
Who keeps count anymore?
Stop it. Keep going. Stop.
Dammit. DAMMIT. DAMN IT ALL.
Again and again and again. One arm, then the other one when all he could see was blood welling up on skin sliced clean apart. Scores of old and recently healed wounds reopen under silver. Until even the other one was more blood and scar than skin. Dirtied sleeves –that dutifully kept eyes away from previous scars– from chemicals and crimson liquid bunched up over his biceps, and those too were subject to his rampant thoughts and actions.
More. His body isn’t his, this movement isn’t his. He needs to stop, he’s getting lightheaded. He needs the numbing pain to distract what he’s being controlled by. Wild, dark thoughts continue to cloud his mind and vision. He could easily kill himself. A thought well entertained. Move the blood-stained blade to his neck. But then what would the others think of him? A coward? A suicidal maniac? No, they love him, and they say it time and time again. Then what the fuck is he doing?
Screams rattle through his head. He hopes he isn’t screaming out loud. It’s tearing him from inside out while he tears apart his own skin.
Coward.
Weak.
Pathetic.
Useless.
His breaths come out harsh and shallow, high off delirious chuckles. He’s done. The red haze clears, yet the red on his arms does not. The cuts burn deep like a hot iron, searing a brand that will heal into something ugly. He’s kneeling on the floor, legs numb. His hands are shaking and sweaty. And held tightly in his palm was that little item that held so much destruction. The blade was almost dripping with his life, taunting him for going this far. Drops of blood litter the floor before him, his mind barely keeping note of needing to clean it. He inspects it like any other experiment. Which lines cut too deep, which score drew the most blood, and so on, until a list formed in his head.
Knock knock. “Eli? It’s dinner time!”
Who is that? They sound so familiar. “I’m coming in!”
SHIT.
Elias felt like a deer in headlights. Body held stone-still as the door opened to reveal the person who dared disturb him. Save me. That stupid little voice in his head shouts. No, don’t come in. It felt as if the person was purposefully taking their time opening the door, or maybe it was the slow drip-dripping of what should be in his body leaking out of him. Black spots appear in the air before him. A dull thud echoes, then silence.
“Eli? It’s dinner time!” Liron knocks on the door. Elias has been in there since this morning, holed away to do goodness-knows-what. The others are reasonably worried that their scientist isn’t taking care of himself, but knew when to step in. Liron on the other hand, felt a twinge in his chest when Elias didn’t answer. ‘Maybe he’s asleep?’ The prisoner thinks before opening the door.
The last thing Liron expected was to find Elias passed out on the floor, his arms covered in cuts and blood that was still pouring out. He immediately ran to Elias’ side and picked him up, careful to not jostle his wounds. His face was pale in comparison to his arms, his breaths shallow and soft. “ELI!” Liron’s shout alerted the others outside. "GUYS!” That was enough to get Ash, Caelen and Shiki sprinting into the lab. "I-I he-” Liron started tearing up.
Ash quickly took over, nudging Liron to let him pick up the unconscious scientist to bring him to the couch. Shiki already had the first aid kit ready, along with a damp towel and a small basin of water. Caelen was comforting Liron, even though he too was shaken by the mass of cuts on Elias’ arms. The wounds were dabbed with the cloth to clean off as much blood as possible, before being tentatively wrapped in some bandages. Just as Shiki finished securing the last bandage, Elias woke up.
Muddled voices and bright lights greeted Elias when he regained some sort of consciousness. He tried to sit up, but was quickly but gently pressed back down onto a soft surface. His head was throbbing, and arms burning. “-Li?” He sighs and squeezes his eyes shut. “Eli? Are you with us?” Was that Ash? He tries to make an affirming noise. He vaguely hears himself make a noise by the vibration from his throat, but whether it was loud enough was another question. More talking. Maybe he should go back to sleep.
Someone firmly grasps his hands. Maybe not. He sighs again, and slowly pries his eyelids back open. “Hey there. You feeling okay?” Well that was a dumb question. He makes a questioning hum. Ash clears his throat and rephrases. “Are you feeling physically okay?” He shakes his head, obviously. “How much does it hurt?” He shrugs. He doesn’t trust himself to speak for now. “Why would you do that?” Shiki pipes in, his no-nonsense voice slipping in. Elias looks away from the others’ gazes as much as he can. He’s tired. He'd never wish for them to see him like this. He should have controlled himself better.
His chest and eyes burned, then, finally, he cries. It wasn’t loud, it wasn’t dramatic, but that’s what scared them the most. Tears streamed down his face and onto the cushions below, quiet sobs unwillingly emit from his throat. He tries to curl into himself, but the pain from the movement hurt too much, so he’s stuck bare and vulnerable in front of people whom he so desperately needed comfort from, while wishing he was hidden away from their worry and concern.
Liron reacts first, jumping up and off the floor to hug Elias, careful of the bandaged arms. Then Ash, who carefully brings him up onto his lap. Caelen takes his place just beside Liron, trying to hug him as well. Shiki places a hand on Elias’ head, patting him gently while shushing him. They will talk about his actions in the future. Right now, all that matters is that Elias is safe and alive in their arms.
When all of Elias’ tears were drained and his sobbing stopped, Liron gently wiped his tears away. Ash lifted him up slowly until he was leaning on his shoulders. Shiki went to heat up the soup, and Caelen went to grab his blanket to drape over his shoulders. The caring from the four was unnatural for them, and it felt awkward for Elias, but he appreciated it all the same. The warmth and kindness fed the little voice that cried for comfort, and he all but basks in it.
Though those dark thoughts still remained, they were now quietened by Lamentus’ presence around him. The weight of emotions all crash down at once, rendering him into a complete mess of feelings. They didn't ask, nor did he explain himself. In due time, they will talk. But for now, he would rather just be there, alive and safe. With patience, he’ll get through with them, as long as they are around.