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Deep red stains the bathroom floor. Your sobbs redouble as you pick up the blade from the pencil sharpener, dragging it in many messy lines across your skin. Blood wells up as you shove your blade away, a sense of disgust sharpening in you as the crimson liquid joins the river flowing across your arm and smearing everywhere.
You cant breathe. Can barely think logically. Your brain is a mess, warring with itself as you curl up, sobbing on the hard tile.
The logical side of your mind makes you pick up your phone with shaky fingers. You type in a string of jumbled words.
please cokme to dorm ineed yo to talk me outa smtg
Okay. I will be there in seven minutes.
you hug your knees to your chest.
its right there. Right above you. So easy. Just slip your neck in and let gravity do the rest.
No. You cant. You shouldnt. Yet... you can. Your nails dig into your skin, the pinpricks of pain jarring against your muddled senses.
You claw at your skin, spliting it and adding more blood to the mess around you. It trickles out of the shallow gouges in your bicep and the long scratches along your forearm.
You almost try it twice. The scratchy feeling of the rope on your neck is comforting. Then the shame and disgust catches up. You step down. Go back to ripping apart your own flesh just to feel something.
You loose yourself in pain and blood for who knows how long. Then you hear muffled cursing, coming from outside your dorm room.
"fuckass keys, just work already." The sound of a door being hastily opened and then slammed shut rigs throughout the space. An achingly familiar voice calls out.
"Y/n. Im here. Please. What do you need?" Taco. You can hear her footsteps approaching the bathroom, and you shrink at the walls, embarased at the pathetic excuse for a human you are, whinpering in a corner like a dog. Through a blurry haze of tears, you can see her eyes widen as she takes in the scene.
You, lying in a pool of your own blood, your left arm a mangled, blood soaked mess. The bloodstained blade in front of you. And the noose. Sturdy rope, tied to the ceiling fan. (A/N: i know fans aren't supposed to be in bathrooms. I needed something other than a shower curtain rod, and a fan was all i could think of.)
Taco instantly crouches down and wraps your shaking form in a gentle hug.
"Why, y/n? Please, just why? We could have helped you." You know. And yet, that part of your brain cant help but push others away. Slowly, with bloodstained arms, you return her hug. She grabs a cup from the sink counter and fills it with water, gently cleaning your injuries with the aid of a towel. She swathes basically your entire arm in bandages then hugs you again, more fiercely.
"i swear that i will never let this happen again. Never." You let her scoop you up and carry you to your bed, laying besides you while stroking your hair rhythmically, lulling the both of you to a restful sleep.