You're Known //DNF\\

The Devil's Trance

George found himself thinking about whatever happened the day before with Clarance. The red headed bastard, which wouldn't get punished for his actions. Not even by guilt for what he later causes George to go through.

((TW for the rest of the chapter: Suicidal Thoughts and Self Harm. Be safe, you are loved <3
‼️putting a quick summary in A/N this plays a kinda big part in the story‼️))

"No one cares."

He's right. No one cares, no one notices. No one even sees what's happening. Even the principal couldn't care. Even my mom couldn't care. For fuck's sake, they didn't even see what was happening to me in the first place.

"...some lonesome, evil, needy, boy."

That's who I am. I'm lonely so I got Clay who I rant to, who I hurt. I'm evil to those who have it worse than me. Those who would trade their lives with mine, just to get away from a worse pain. I'm needy for attention. I feed on it, so I search for it.

"...you need to decide whether you want to live or if you don't want to live."

I can't help but think how similar this is to Clay's words. I need to make the final decision. Do I want to live? Do I want to die? Do I even dare question that?

"...if you want it to end, you're going to have to end your life."

Once again, I can only see him being right. Maybe that's how I make it finally end. Maybe that's how I can make everyone happier. It reminds me of my dream. The bridge. It pains me to think that way, but what an idea it is.

"Not a single day you're alive, will I stop"

He won't stop. Clarance will never stop. Even if this hurts him in his future. He won't ever give in. He won't ever leave me alone. What is his obsession with me? Why does he target me? Why can't he target someone stronger? Maybe someone who is his own size. Why me?

George didn't notice but he was up and out of his bed now. He was in a trance of looping thoughts. Thoughts which wavered him back and forth from death to life. He continued to walk. He didn't know where he was going. He was in a hallucination. He was daydreaming about what life in the beyond was like.

Maybe it's always sunny. What if it's a paradise? It could be so nice. No worries. No thoughts.

He kept walking. He was now opening his bedroom door. Not caring to look at himself in his mirror which hung from it. George looked like a zombie from the walking dead. His fair skin tone, now pale. His once full of life, brown eyes, were now dull and grey looking, a raging storm behind them. His once confident steps were stumbled as he tripped over himself as if he were drunk.

George didn't wake up, not yet. He was now in the bathroom, opening the same cupboard he opened almost exactly a week ago.

Know what? I wouldn't mind that painless feeling of void. Who knows, maybe it's a floaty feeling. Or maybe it's the feeling of adrenaline over and over again as you fall through limbo. That would be exhilarating.

He grabbed his plastic black case, mindlessly rubbing his thumb over the clip that held it shut. With one last swipe of his thumb the case opened up. He placed it onto the sink counter and took one glance at himself. His mind flashed awake for one second.

Clay!

Help!

I can't be alone!

You're not alone you idiot!

But it closed again, bringing him back into his trance as his gaze fell upon the two razors which laid in his case. The time on the clock, which sat on the shelf above the towel rack, read 2:37pm. School was now over but even if anyone were to knock on his front door right now, it would be too late.

He grabbed one of the two clean shiny metal razors from the container. He held it tight between his finger and thumb. His body was shaking but he didn't care to recognize his own fear. His own hesitation. Two sentences repeated in his head.

"...it will stop but it's up to you when you make it."

"...you need to decide whether you want to live or if you don't want to live."

The two sentences which were from two very different people, one kind and one evil, now mixed. Each sentence had a different backstory, but that too mixed. The sentences now meant the same thing.

It's up to you. Do you live? Do you die?

It was like a video game. His eyes were the screen, and his brain was the controls and decisions he could make. Which one would make the game of life go quicker? Which one would make the game last longer? Which one made the game easier? Which one would make the game harder?

It all came down to your own decisions in this game. Would he get the good ending or the bad ending? Was there even a good or bad ending. Or, was it just the same ending for everyone?

The blade of the razor now rested against his pale skin on his arm. His arm still had fresh cuts from the week before. Those one's were just now scarring over. Would this be his life? Constantly worrying about whether he wished to live or die that day? Maybe it would just end. Maybe today he would make Clarance proud of him. He would cut deeper. He would cut to vein.

Still in his abstraction of thoughts, he pressed the razor onto his skin. He watched his pale skin turn red, not quite drawing blood yet. He smiled. There was no pain today. His body was now used to it. His body ignored it. Just as people ignored the signs.

With pleasure, George slid the blade across his arm. Watching it open his skin and now draw the red blood. It grossed him out, but he continued. Without pain, he could go deeper. Without thought, he would go deeper.

For another ten minutes he kept dragging the blade along his arm, blood now dripping to the bathroom floor.

What a mess I'll have to clean.

George thought mid-drag of the blade in his hand. He smiled at the bloodied floor, the bloodied arm, his bloodied clothes. He found it so calming almost.

He was ill, mentally ill. He no longer craved the comforting words or touch of Clay. He no longer wishes for someone to barge into the unlocked bathroom. He no longer searched for any negativity in his life, so he wouldn't be guilty afterwards. Instead, he found himself smiling and sighing happily with each deep cut. Each clean thought. Each danger this brought him.

Another five minutes pass, he's beginning to feel lightheaded, he's beginning to feel the pain. Actually, the pain is intolerable now. His arm was swollen, his unnoticed tears stinging each deep cut. He winced and gasped, he finally stopped.

George rubbed his head as it ached. His brain beginning to wake out of its dream. It's illusion it created. He looked around him, seeing he was on the floor now and there was blood coming from his arm at alarming rates. He rushed to get up, but as he did, he fell back to the ground.

Within moments, George's vision went black.

He was in the dark void, alone.
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1895 Words

Bum bum bummm???

‼️Summary‼️
George doesn't use his head, he believed all the words Clarance said. His thoughts put him through a trance (hence the title) in which leads to him hurting himself. The chapter ends with him passing out due to, not just pain, but loss of blood.

Sad chapter I know I know! But I have some really fluffy chapters coming up next week which will be awesome!!

Hope you enjoyed! Have a great rest of your day or night <3