Fits Like Ass On Bucket || Rindou x Reader

0 • prolog

Life was not going well. No job, barely any food, shitty apartment and no friends. Family was out of the picture since you were able to think, having grown up in an orphanage instead. For years already have you been alone with no one to talk to, no one to lean on. There was never a time in your life you've been loved and neither was there ever a time you loved, either someone else or yourself.

And shit. . .it hurt.

It hurt how all your middle and highschool classmates ignored you, how the caretakers in the orphanage didn't care and it hurt to live.

You never thought your life was going to end up this shit. In middleschool you were planning out your future, thinking of the college to apply to as well as the jobs you'd be able to get after finishing up all your studies.

I highschool you went and discarded your previous plans thinking of getting a decent job at a convenient store or some shopping mall instead. As long as you could get some money to survive it was fine with you

And when you finished highschool and left the orphanage everything went downhill. Nobody wanted to employ you and if they did you would get fired after a few weeks. The constant disappointment eventually lead you to stop trying. Stopped trying to get a job, or money, or food. You stayed in your little run down apartment, sleeping the day away, crying yourself to sleep when your body couldn't do it on its own. The more you spent sitting alone the more you noticed how lonely you felt.

You liked being alone, you did. But in certain moments you wanted to be held and appreciated you had no one that could do that for you. So you held yourself. You'd hug yourself so tight you felt like you couldn't breathe and you griped onto your clothes so strongly they would tear. And every time you get reminded of how lonely you are and start crying you grip onto your blanket telling yourself your usual mantra.

"I like being alone. I always have been."

Like blood dripping out of your mouth it tastes foul to repeat those words. And yet your spoke them over and over, hoping it will ease your aching heart. It never did, but it was the one thing that kept you from falling apart completely.

Sadly there's only so much you can endure. You'd been stuck inside for weeks, doing absolutely nothing since even going to the bathroom felt like it was too much work. Your body was tired and malnourished, your mind was exhausted and overwhelmed. So when the landlord of your building visited to tell you to either pay your bills or move out, you felt the remaining strength in you leave.

It was then when you decided to stop your ongoing misery. You had planned your life with so much care but somehow nothing ended up happening the way you wanted it to, you hoped this one time your plans would work out.

With the remaining physical strenght you had left in you, you walked into the small bathroom, setting yourself into the tub. With the sharpest knive you had in your kitchen drawer you cut from the wrist all the way up to the inside of your elbow. It hurt, a lot, but the numbness that had spread through your body had made it impossible for you to react accordingly.

With your shaky right hand you repeated the same on your left arm. You didn't manage to cut as deep this time as your right hand was not only too shaky but also not your dominant side. You hoped that it still worked none the less.

So, you sat there, waiting, losing blood, losing your life.

You feel unconscious after around ten minutes and two days later your landlord discovered your rotting body in the bathtub. It looked horrid, gruesome and absolutely disgusting but as the police and medics arrived to investigate you they saw a smile on your face, and somehow you looked peaceful lying there, almost beautiful even.