I'm Fine

(10): Memory and Reality

TW: Glorification of self-harm and suicide

Lance was tired. Tired of opening his eyes, tired of living. Even though he felt like he had died many times, it had only been twice. He couldn't tell if he was dreaming or not, and he didn't want to.

He just wanted to rest.

So he just lay there, his back completely flat on the hard surface underneath him until a voice startled him.

Welcome. I hope you like it here.

The odd thing was that he heard the words in his mind, and not aloud.

After all, you will be spending a vast majority of your time here. Just open your eyes and you'll see it.

When Lance followed the voice's orders, his eyes were met by a vast field of white that seemed to stretch into infinity.

He inhaled deeply, breathing in the calm that he was so unused to. It was far away from the chaos of his usual life, and he enjoyed it.

He didn't feel the unease or pain that had come from waiting nervously in Haggar's cell. All he felt was calm. He was all alone, and for once, he didn't mind.

Isn't it nice here?

Lance nodded and smiled, truly smiled, for the first time in a long time.

The voice asked him slowly, Do you want to stay here? This will be yours. Forever.

His face was still streaked with dried-up tears as he contemplated this. Deep down, he knew something was wrong, but he couldn't bring himself to care, let alone look into it.

He had always wanted something like this - a place free from his pain and doubt, and now he had found it. So why would he let it go?

Suddenly, a knife appeared in the air in front of him, oddly beautiful and inviting. The voice only whispered, You know what you have to do.

The urge to hold the knife moved his hand and he plucked it from the air, marvelling at it with the curiosity of a toddler.

Its hilt was a navy blue with lightly colored water droplets flowing down it, and the blade was a shiny silver. It looked almost ethereal but still held imminent danger, as the blade's edge seemed sharp enough to cut through skin with ease.

It's so easy, the voice said.

Lance nodded, still smiling, and put the knife's tip onto his left wrist.

Good, it soothed him. Just finish.

He took a sigh of relief and raked the blade horizontally down his wrist, cutting long and deep. Then he moved to his left, completing the same process.

He ignored the pain. After all, it was easy for him now, almost second-nature, and he watched as his blood dripped onto the pure white floor. There was so much of it, and until then, Lance had never realized how pretty blood was up until then.

Now wait, the voice said, and you'll be free.

. . . .

(Back to reality)

Lance's ears rang but a voice was still able to cut through. "H - hey! Lance! Can you hear me?! Wake up! Snap out of it, please!" He didn't recognize the voice, but he opened his right eye slowly anyway, pushing through the grogginess.