Chapter Text
Satoru stood in front of his mirror, closely observing everything on his face. His blue eyes, white eyelashes, slightly parted rosy lips, dusts of pink across his cheeks, and his stained hands prominent in the glass. He swore he wouldn’t let it get this bad, but it took over him at the last minute and he just couldn’t stop. He deserved it.
The blade had done enough damage. Not just physically but emotionally as well. Although it was threatening, it had always been there for Satoru in his down moments. It provided the familiarity of comfort as each cut made it deeper into his scarred skin. He held out the small blade dripping with a familiar crimson liquid. It started to drip onto the floor but Satoru was frozen in place, unable to do more than take hurried panicked breaths.
“Name 5 things you can see…”
Blood on my arms, blood on the blade, the bathroom floor, parts of the mirror, and open wounds.
“Name 4 things you can feel…”
The cold floor, warm tears, blood trickling, and sweat.
“Name 3 things you can hear…”
Myself, sniffling, and a voice.
“Name 2 things you can smell…”
Lemon air freshener and metal.
“Name 1 thing you can taste…”
Salt.
Satoru looked up from his arms with a dripping face from the mucus and tears to meet himself in the reflection. He looked like a mess. Beyond repairable. It was a routine at this point. To do the damage, clean up, and make it seem like it never happened. He sets the blade on the kitchen sink, planning on rinsing it after he cleans the floor. The blood would stain the floor, leaving evidence of his activities. He took a paper towel to wipe it dry first, leaving some marks to clean with hydrogen peroxide and disinfectant wipes. The floor is soon spotless as if nobody was inside the bathroom in the first place. He slowly rinses the blade so that the blood on it wouldn’t splatter in the sink with the warm running water and a wipe of hydrogen peroxide. Then he clumps all the used tissues and wipes together to wrap it in another paper towel to avoid the prominent red pigment being seen, and discards it in the bathroom trash can. Moving onto his own arms, he pats the blood dry with paper towels before wrapping his arms with gauzes from underneath the sink. Over the gauze, he wrapped medical tape on each end of the wrap to prevent it undoing itself. He started on his other arm before a loud knock emerged from the door.
“Who’s in here?” A voice booms through the door.
“Me!” Satoru shouts quickly, wrapping quicker around his arm to avoid getting caught.
“How long are you going to take? Dinner’s been ready for the past fifteen minutes!”
“Sorry! Coming out right now! Need to wash my hands!” Satoru responds in a raspy voice, finishing the wrap.
He turns to find his hoodie on the toilet seat and swiftly puts it on in one go while leaving the tap running for a little bit to make a sound of washing his hands. Satoru turns it off and starts calmly walking towards the door and opening it with a fluid motion. The dining room was further away than the guest bathroom so he took the time to wipe his face with the sleeves on his hoodie, applying pressure on his arms making him wince in pain. His family was seen already eating without him and he didn't make a fuss like he usually would because he couldn’t seem to find his voice, despite being very vocal.
“Took you long enough. We started eating because your mother and I are starving,” Satoru’s father says, taking another bite of white rice before using his chopsticks to pick up fish from the middle of the table.
“Sorry…” Satoru says with a strained voice.
“Have you caught a cold?” His mother asks, perking her head up to meet Satoru’s eyes.
“I’m not feeling the best, still full from lunch. I think I’ll pass on dinner tonight,” Satoru says, putting on a slight smile to entertain his parents.
“You don’t have to eat, but at least sit and spend some time with us. We’re not around forever,” His mother continues to speak. “Though I wish God made all of us immortal so that we’d spend time with each other for eternity.”
“I thought we already spend time together for eternity when we go to heaven?” Satoru asks, pulling a chair to sit in.
“That’s right. See I knew that bible study group was helping you wash your impurities away!” His father says with a toothy grin and a loud chuckle.
“Right.”
“Nevermind that, how’s school going?” His mother asks with a content smile.
“Fine.”
“Are you still in touch with Suguru?”
“Yes.”
“How come I never see you two together anymore? You’re always by yourself and he’s in a large group?” His mother starts to sound unbearing. “I want you to take after him. He’s a good kid, really. Did you hear that he got the honor roll for the fifth time in a row? That kid’s a genius, God really blessed him.”
“And God didn’t bless me?” Satoru asks, out of curiosity.
“What? God blessed us all by allowing us to co-exist and live together in this world! Don’t say something foolish like that again. You hear?” Satoru’s father butts in.
Satoru nods. It earns a clamorous hit on the dining table from his father.
“Open your mouth. God did not suffer for you to not make use of your body.”
“Yes.”
“Yes, who?”
“Yes… Father.”
“Go to your room. I cannot deal with you right now.” His father says with an exasperated sigh, pinching his nose.
Satoru nods again and stands up, pushing his chair in before making his way to the stairs. He climbs up the stairs, clinging onto the rails while he feels eyes pierce his back from the dining table. He hears his father making a big fuss about how his attitude towards christianity is faltering. By the time he had reached his bedroom’s door, the tears started flowing again. Satoru didn’t understand why he couldn’t just live up to his parent’s expectations instead of comparing him to anybody. His cousins, friends, people on the street. He didn’t feel like their son. He felt like a person, but not in a family.
When he drops himself onto his bed, he curls into a ball sitting-up, digging his nails into his hands. His head drops into his knees as he allows his pants to become wet with the salty waterfalls.
“Nobody will accept me for who I am. What’s the point of living?”