Vasilisa "Lissa" Dragomir (ldragomir) wrote in madisonvalley, @ 2013-10-10 16:28:00 |
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Entry tags: | !closed, !log, !narrative, ~2013 october, ~25 points, ~~lissa dragomir (ldragomir) |
Who: Lissa
What: Depression.
Where: Her Apartment
When: After this but before this
Warnings | Status: Mentions of depression and active cutting | Narrative | Complete
Lissa was trying very hard to keep herself together for longer periods at a time, but it was getting difficult with the tension that was getting thicker in the town as of late. Usually, she had things with her and her depression under a little more control, but it had been harder since she had been stuck in this place without her friends or her healthier coping mechanisms. She supposed that she could probably talk to those that seemed to care about others in this place – Mr. Dresden or Ms. Mason or Justine – but she was still dealing with the fact that she was ashamed of her weakness. It seemed hard enough making friends here that she didn’t want to introduce her own depression and sometimes madness into the mix that there already was.
She left her laptop in tears over the latest batch of drama and went into the bathroom of her apartment. For once, she was almost glad that she lived alone. It would have been almost impossible for her to hide evidence of her shame and imbalance. Her pills had run out weeks ago and she hadn’t known where to go to talk to someone about them. After all, what was she going to tell them?
I can heal people and bring them back from the brink of death or even death but if I do it too often it causes pain and drives me deeper into depression and despair.
Not hardly. With the hatred that some people seemed to have for magic users she was sure that knowing about her weaknesses wouldn’t help matters in any way. She didn’t want to add any kind of gasoline to fire between magic users and some non-magic users.
Lissa locked the bathroom door behind her and got down on her knees. She felt around with her fingers, looking for the edges of the hiding place that she had created in here. She lifted the tile up, revealing the hold she had dug beneath the tile. Once it was in place, only those with heightened senses who were looking for it would even know that the hole was there. Reaching into the hole, she pulled out the small jewelry box and then got up from the floor.
Double-checking that the door was locked, she turned the sink on so there was a steady, yet small, stream of hot water and then sat on the edge of the tub. She placed the box on the closed lid of the toilet and lifted the lid. She stared into the box for a few moments before she pulled out the blade that rested in the material there. Unlike most people with this issue, she didn’t use a razor blade. Instead, she used one of the Dragomir daggers that arrived with her. She wasn’t sure why her secret kit had arrived with her, but she had certainly been glad of It a few times.
She pushed up the sleeve of her shirt and drew the dagger against the flesh of her upper arm. When the blood oozed out of the shallow cut, she let out the breath she had been holding. She could feel the tension leaving her body as the blood dripped down her arm. A few more cuts and she could feel herself begin to feel steady again. The blood took the anger and the confusion and the bottled up tears with it as it flowed from the cuts.
As much as she wished Rose was here, this was one of those times she was glad her best friend wasn’t. Rose would know she had backslid and she would be so disappointed in her. More than that, though, she would be angry and trying to figure out who had hurt Lissa’s feelings so badly that she was purging herself of all of her pain through cutting again.
Twenty minutes later, the bathroom was clean and there was no trace of what Lissa had been doing in there.
She withdrew to her bedroom and dropped down on the bed, pulling a blanket all of the way over her and her head. Being Moroi meant that she healed in a very short period of time, and even though there were no longer any open wounds, she could run her fingers over where the blade had been earlier. By morning, there wouldn’t even be a trace of a scar and she could put on her cheerful and helpful demeanor again.
[[OOC: Meant to post this earlier this week, but migraines suck.]]