Sandstorm {Discontinued}{Rewritten}

1. It's a Rip Off of Doctor Who

Trigger warnings: suicide attempt, thoughts of suicide, self deprecating thoughts, thoughts of self harm, internalized ableism, mental illness, mentions of torture and trauma, mentions of child murder, mentions of gang violence/war, mentions of gun violence, brief mentions of police brutality.

{~}

It was a blissful feeling, the sweet release of death. Even more liberating was having a choice in how it ended. When it ended. For Deserey, the decision was easy. Life's toll had, not for the first time, become too much. There's a pool that floods her mind and seeps into her veins; it flows through her blood stream, rides in her nerves, cuts to the bone, and drives straight through to the heart. Fills her lungs, her mind, her soul. It consumes her. All of her. It washes away every piece of her that matters. In seconds. And she drowns.

The same flood that had been plaguing her head since stepping away from her parents, the curse that she'd been carrying with her, inside, since she was a teenager (or even before, she couldn't put a date on when it started, really). Things that should have been easy, fun even, had become tedious work. Getting up for her job was a constant struggle; she simply couldn't find the motivation to get out of bed. Talking to her ex-husband (as of two months ago), or even hugging her kids sucked all the energy out of her.

What sort of heartless monster couldn't even smile at their child's dance recital?

Everything she did, every movement she made was simply exhausting. Life, living, had become exhausting. It had always been exhausting, but this time she couldn't find an excuse to keep going. This time, she really had to end it all. She'd been this way for years, and she had lost so many good friends because of it. It wasn't really that they were bad friends or that they didn't care. They were amazing. They had always been there for her, always comforted her, always talked her out of doing something she'd regret. One of them had even bought an entire fucking apartment building for her, not just an apartment, no, no the building (and she'd recently cut ties with him, too, which sucked for many reasons, not the least of which is: he was often her financial aid ).

It was Deserey who was the problem. They deserved better than the mess of a person she'd become. They deserved better than this. That was why Deserey pushed them all away. She shoved and kicked and bit and scratched until one day every single one of them disappeared without a word. Until the current of the mind flood caused them to drift so far apart they would never see the other again.

Because if they stayed they'd drown too. Deserey would pull them into her mind flood, and she would rather die than do that to the people she loved. She would rather die.

Deserey was over it all. The pain, the constant numbness throughout her body, the flood that never left her head. She was tired of fighting herself to stay afloat. She couldn't give them what they wanted, what they needed ─ a happy, healthy mother and loving, loyal wife. She was too broken for a normal life, and after what had happened during that Particle Accelerator explosion... No. No, she wasn't going to risk becoming like one of those freaks made by Hugo Strange. Never again. She'd been lucky so far, but she'd pushed her luck far enough. She wouldn't be one of them. She wouldn't.

She'd die first.

She would die first.

Deserey had tried before, many, many times, especially when the Accelerator had first cursed her (she wasn't risking the safety of her kids; she wasn't taking the chance of snapping and hurting someone because she was mentally ill), but each time someone had stopped her and sent her to a mental hospital (the hospitals never helped. The shrinks did nothing, and all it did was trigger unwanted memories, memories of that place, the place that had turned her into a freak before: Indian Hill).