pain

Hot red blood trickled down dark copper skin and dripped onto the floor and soaked into the carpet. The sharp sting reminded her that she was still here, still breathing, still alive even though her entire body felt numb. That really just meant that she needed to cut deeper. To the bone, if she had to.

With the next slice it became clear that she didn't have the nerve to do it this way. She stared down at her largely superficial cuts and sighed, and set down the razor, instead picking up a pen with the hand that didn't bleed. She closed her eyes as a strange sense of ease spread through her. The thought of having peace, of not having to fight anymore. It was a sick, terrible sense of acceptance, but it made her calm.

“I can't do this.” She spoke aloud as she wrote. Maybe it would keep her mind steady. “It's hopeless. There's nothing we can do about this. We've tried and tried to no avail and it hurts. They've taken too much. I can trust no one. This is too much for me. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.

“Please. Tell them I'm sorry. It doesn't matter if they're taken or not. They deserve to know. Tell the others I just couldn't do this anymore. I would rather die alone in the quiet, where I control the circumstances. I don't want to die in a fight where we're losing by a landslide. I'm not helping you, anyway. All I am is a burden. A strung-out, needy burden. I promise I'm okay now. I promise I'm at peace. Really, it's better this way.

“Tell the boy in the library that I loved talking to him. Tell him he's wonderful. Tell him that he was something to fight for, and having something to fight for meant the world to me in a world where everything is falling apart. Tell him I'm sorry I couldn't protect him. Tell him I'm sorry I hurt too much and that we won't have that date after all. Tell him I'm sorry. For everything.

“And her. Tell her she did this. Tell her all the wars in the world couldn't be more horrible than knowing what I did. Tell her they'll die. They'll all die, far and away from home, deep in the farthest reaches of space, in a pointless and eternal fight over nothing. They are nothing but meat puppets. Numbers. All thanks to her. And maybe this side isn't right. But the theft of free will is more terrible than any war she fought in. Tell her my death is a reminder.”

She took a deep breath, forcing the anger out of her mind, as she crossed that paragraph off of the note. No. There was no point in saying any of that. This wasn't out of spite that she chose to do this, and she knew it. The hurt seeped back into her soul at the very thought of it, but no. This wasn't meant to be a 'reminder'. It was supposed to be her finally putting herself at peace. Once and for all.

Forever.

She began to speak again, as she tried again to write.

“Last of all, to Anya. I love you. I always will. But you deserve so much better than me. I've been nothing but a blight on your mind and soul ever since day one. Well, you don't need to worry about me anymore. Focus on worrying about Midnight. She needs it more, a lot more.”

“I know you'll say this was selfish. I know you'll be left wondering why I did it. Surely I had so much to live for. What do I have to live for? Our mothers could be taken. My teacher is gone, dead to me. The boy in the library barely knows I exist. He probably only talks to me because I've been watching him like a fucking creep anyway. You could die in battle. So could the rest of them. So could I. I want to have some control over how I go.

So, to everyone. I'm sorry.”

When the note was finished, and strewn across with her bloody fingerprints, she stood up from her chair and pulled from her closet an old, worn out jump rope. She had never really used it much, and she doubted Anya had even remembered it was in here. She snapped the handles off of it, tied it around the light fixture on the ceiling, and then around her neck. This was it.

“Sister, no!!”

The sudden shouting made her startle, and fall from the chair. However, instead of tightening, the rope fell away from her neck as if it hadn't been tied properly, and she fell harmlessly onto the nearby bed.

“How could you-- where did you get- I thought I took everything away from you!” Anya rapidly gesticulated at the rope and the razor sitting on the table. “Where did you get these?! How did you- why would you...”

It broke her heart to see the wounds in her dear sister's eyes. She had hoped she wouldn't be interrupted. But apparently that didn't matter anyway, considering that falling off the chair had done absolutely fuck all.

She said nothing.

“You promised me you wouldn't cut anymore... you promised... I took everything you could've hurt yourself with! Where did you find these?!”

“...I'm sorry...”

“Sorry?! You tried to kill yourself! Do you know what that would have done to our moms, to everyone else?! Think, sister! Think for once in your life!”

“I did think. I thought that maybe-”

“You thought wrong! They would be devastated, they'd think it's their fault... when it's not. It's mine. Because when I said I would keep you from doing this, I didn't try hard enough-”

“Stop.”

“...What?”

“It isn't your fault. I found that jump rope in the closet. I didn't even remember it was there, and I'll bet you didn't either. I was hiding the razor. Don't blame yourself for me being a failure of a human being.”

“But- but you're not a failure...”

“I'm broken, Anya. I can't look at my own shadow without having attacks. I'll be short forever. My ovaries have effectively been taken out by tactical nukes. The thing that helps is illegal. I've been learning from a space slug for who even knows how long, and for all I know, none of it would have helped if they had come to take me away. Maybe that was the plan all along. All I am is a burden to the team, if not an outright liability now, and I think you know it. And worst of all, I can't even keep it together long enough not to hurt you.”

“Sister... you- you know none of that is true...”

More silence.

“Sister, please...”

“...sorry...”