Who: Violet Ingram and Mack Oden [Melpomene and Cragus] What: dsajghsakfksahgdlka ...yep. That about covers it. When: Tuesday night. Where: Their apartment? Well it will be. Violet's kinda just staying there for now. Rating: Self-mutilation, mention of abuse....yeah. More than one sensitive subject matter, so avoid it if this upset you. Status: Open to cragusly//Incomplete.
It had been fifteen minutes since she'd locked herself in the bathroom, turned the shower on and sat down on the floor beside the door. Fourteen minutes since she unfolded her towel and lifted the knife she'd hidden inside. She'd spent about a minute just staring at it.
Then it was as if she was outside of herself, a bystander. It was like watching a train wreck, knowing she should do something to stop but also knowing there was nothing she could do. Knowing this was wrong, but also knowing the feeling of that cool blade cutting into her flesh, of the blood seeping from her veins was more than she'd felt in years. Or it was until yesterday.
She was a shell. A broken one at that, and she knew it. She had emotions, but it was more a matter of the mind than the heart. She knew she should feel a certain way and so she portrayed it. The only feeling that survived at all was love, and even that was a watered-down version of what normal people felt. She loved her brother. She loved Mack and Chris. But nothing got to the core of her. There was no core of her, only emptiness. It was as if Violet Ingram had died at fourteen, but her body was still functioning.
She held her arm out over the edge of the bathtub, letting the water wash away the blood. She was feeling now. Not just physical pain. This had struck her to the core. Not because of herself, no. Never. Violet didn't give a damn about herself. She hated herself. She wouldn't be around if there weren't people who'd be hurt if she was gone. And that was exactly what she was feeling. Self-loathing. She was the reason that people she loved were beside themselves with worry and pain and that killed her. She'd rather have held all this in until she finally lost her mind than be the cause of pain for her mother or Anthony or Mack or Chris. She unfailingly put others before herself, family to complete strangers. Because she wasn't worthy of happiness. She was nothing. She had no future, no worth. Of course she put those that did first. They needed it more than a shell ever could.
The cut had stopped bleeding and she wet her hair to make the "shower" look more convincing. She pulled on a long sleeved, over-sized flannel shirt, something that wasn't odd for Violet even in August. She hated to draw attention to herself, hated knowing people were looking at her. She looked in the mirror and wiped her eyes. God, she hadn't even noticed she'd been crying.
Opening the bathroom door, she didn't even half to look into the living room to know that Mack was there, staring at her. He'd been more than attentive lately and she couldn't blame him for that. She blamed herself, but that was another story entirely. She gave him a small, forced smile before crossing the apartment to get to her bedroom. She'd almost made it when the knife slipped out of the towel and clattered to the floor.