Ashes to Ashes (BDTW #3)

Chapter 19

Major trigger warning for this scene for self-harm/suicide. Seriously. Do not read if those things disturb you.
Song: Endgame by Talos or Into the Black by the Chromatics

I slept for hours on end.

Jackson slept beside me, an arm tucked around my waist as though it was a preventative measure to never let me leave his side again. I could understand why that fear laid within him, the fear of losing me, but in the state of desperation and the pool of self-hatred I was bathing in, I also really couldn't understand it. I was a horrible, horrible person. He may not have seen it, but I did. I deserved this. I deserved this.

It's what I kept whispering as I extracted myself from his grasp and quietly crept through the dark, silent house to the bathroom. Nobody was awake, and all rooms were occupied, only the sounds of faint steady breaths clouding the quiet air. I crept along as noiselessly as I could, my tiny footsteps making faint creaking noises against the wooden floorboards, and I scolded myself. Nobody could wake up; nobody could see me like this. I needed to do this, and I needed to do it alone, peacefully. No interruptions or mistakes. When you want to end your life, there's no room for error. Only success in death.

I ran the bath on a low setting so the splashing water wouldn't wake the entire household. If I could've found a gun, I would've, but I knew I could barely even stand to touch one. Not after that war, certainly not after killing Patch. The sensation of his dead slumped body filled my mind, along with that image of his smile during the simulation and how my head felt on his shoulder, and I shivered, quivering with remorse.

I wore simple loose clothes, black ones that were provided to me by Jackson, and I thought they were fitting enough. In the bathroom, somebody had hung a mirror, which was odd to see in an Abnegation house, especially the one I'd grown so accustomed to during childhood, but nonetheless I studied my appearance and the utter complete stranger who's eyes stared blankly back into mine. Dull. Lifeless.

The bruises were still everywhere. Sunken eyes and thin, wan cheek bones. Close to colourless cheeks and lips. My hair was now shoulder length, almost a little longer, and it did well to hide the fact that my collarbones were jutting out of my body, almost as though someone had balled my skin in their hands and pulled it tightly over my bones. My hands shook at the sight when the adrenaline began to set in. I couldn't stand the sight of myself. I could barely keep in a sigh that deflated my chest of breath.

Then, I rummaged through my father's vanity under the sink to find a two-bladed razor, and carefully popped the blade out with my thumb, the dull side of the metal leaving a tiny indentation against the skin.

I ran it under the sink water, clearing it of whatever substance may've been on it, the thin piece carefully pinched between my thumb and index finger, sharp edge pointed away from me. It was such an intimidating thing, but held between my hands, it didn't seem so scary after all. I knew, anyway, that cuts just stang for a little bit, right at the first point of contact between the blade and the skin. After that, it wasn't that bad. Especially if you're bleeding out, you probably don't feel much.

And I wouldn't feel much besides that sweet sense of relief. I knew it. My time here was over.

I couldn't feel anything anymore. That hazy fog that clouded my mind for weeks had now spread to the rest of my body rendering my limbs lazy, limp and devoid of sensation. I would pinch my leg myself to remind myself that it was even functional. My body felt heavy, so, so heavy.

Carefully, I climbed into the tub, and sat there for a moment, staring into the water, watching the fabric of my pants sway softly within the water. The soft light of the bathroom made it hard to see, but the moonlight made up for it, casting beams of light across my face in the darkness. I pinched the blade tightly between my fingers. It was eerily quiet, save for the nearly imperceptible sounds of the water moving within the tub, and the slow drip of leftover water on the ridge of the nozzle. For a moment, I leaned my head back, taking a few deep breaths, preparing for what was next. Just two little cuts, I told myself, then nothing. Quick. Easy.