Author's Notes: Okay, I'll warn you now. This story is very depressing. It
deals with self-mutilation. PLEASE don't start self-mutilation after you
read this! It is VERY dangerous, and NOT to be taken lightly. This is only
a story; it's not true.
Disclaimer- I don't own Kingdom Hearts. Squaresoft and Disney have that privilege.
Worthless (by Phoenix Pinion)
It's always the one you don't expect.
I remember all those mystery novels I used to read back on the island. The author would always point so many clues to one particular person, and at the very end the murderer would be someone you would have never expected. The weeping mother, for instance. Or maybe the millionaire playboy.
I stare at the bloodstained tool in my hand: a dagger. Sure, I stole it from Peter Pan, but it's nighttime. Peter is sleeping, and when he awakens in the morning, the dagger will be back in the sheath on his hip.
Should I do it? I have before, of course, but now is such a dangerous time, when everyone is sleeping only in the next room. My lips curl into a bitter smile. What would they all do, if they found their Keyblade Master, with blood streaming down his arms?
My hand starts to shake as my resolution dissolves. I want to so badly.to show the hatred I have for myself. My worthlessness. My sigh echoes about the ship. I am in the captain's room right now; one room below, everyone else sleeps. At least I hope they are sleeping.
As I set the quivering dagger on my wrist, I feel it: a sudden thrill of power, bliss...sadness. The dagger slashes my skin with experience and ease, and adrenaline rushes through me as I stare at the blood fountaining from my wrist, as I feel the pain from my throbbing veins.
I deserve this. I deserve it for not being able to keep Riku away from the darkness. I deserve it for not saving Kairi. I deserve to die for all of the sins I have committed.
Almost on its own accord, the knife presses deeper, and I gasp in the pain, glorying in it. So many words to describe how I feel right now: exhilaration, happiness, relief, fright...excitement.
I move the dagger farther up my arm, opening an older, disappearing scar, letting my wrist bleed freely. Giddiness overtakes me as a well of blood cloaks the tiny blade of the dagger. "Oh, God..." I love this feeling...it's, it's better than an orgasm. Deep in my mind, this scares me, but the adrenaline covers up these shaky emotions, and I carve yet another gash in my arm. My grin turns evil and masochistic as I cut into myself, my emotions, and my very sanity.
I glance dully across the room at my Keyblade. Too bad //that// doesn't have any sharp edges, or else I could do this more often. I hate myself...oh, God, I hate myself...
I wonder what Donald and Goofy would say if they knew. They might take the Keyblade away from me, since I have such an impure heart. Or they could just be ashamed. Hell, //I'm// ashamed of myself, of my weakness.
I let myself bleed, it seems, until there is no more blood left in me, making two more wounds in myself. I also consider my ankles, staring down at the smooth, pink flesh...but my arms are enough as of yet. My masochistic craving may one day make me sever my skin somewhere other than my arms...but I am all right...for now...
I tear my shirt a bit, using the cloth to staunch the bleeding. Finally, my addiction has been quieted. I wonder when I will mutilate myself next. Probably the next time I find something sharp.
The salty seawater burns my aching wounds, but I must use it: I don't want any scars. After applying that, then wrapping the cloth around my arm as a kind of poultice, I creep back inside the hold, silently slip Peter's carefully washed dagger into his sheath, and fall asleep cushioned between Donald and Goofy.
The next morning I awaken to a cry of, "You're hurt, Sora!" Donald and Goofy gape at my arm. I flex, smiling comfortingly as my make my excuse:
"Sorry, guys, but I was just feeling restless last night. I fought some Heartless and got them all, but one of them clawed my arm. It's all right. I washed it with salt water; I'll be fine."
Surprisingly enough, they take my lie without much comment. Donald only reprimands me slightly, warning me on the dangers of fighting such powerful Heartless alone. As we start to fly to the clock tower, searching for the Keyhole, I feel a sick smile twisting my lips.
It's always the one you don't expect.
~Owari~
Author's Notes: Yeah, I know this wasn't very well written. The paragraphs don't flow, and I kind of jump around all over the place. I cranked it out in a half an hour, at one o'clock in the morning. It also hasn't been proofread. I didn't really mean to make it all about Sora cutting himself, but I am depressed, so it sort of came out that way. Sorry if I depressed some of you with this story.
Disclaimer- I don't own Kingdom Hearts. Squaresoft and Disney have that privilege.
Worthless (by Phoenix Pinion)
It's always the one you don't expect.
I remember all those mystery novels I used to read back on the island. The author would always point so many clues to one particular person, and at the very end the murderer would be someone you would have never expected. The weeping mother, for instance. Or maybe the millionaire playboy.
I stare at the bloodstained tool in my hand: a dagger. Sure, I stole it from Peter Pan, but it's nighttime. Peter is sleeping, and when he awakens in the morning, the dagger will be back in the sheath on his hip.
Should I do it? I have before, of course, but now is such a dangerous time, when everyone is sleeping only in the next room. My lips curl into a bitter smile. What would they all do, if they found their Keyblade Master, with blood streaming down his arms?
My hand starts to shake as my resolution dissolves. I want to so badly.to show the hatred I have for myself. My worthlessness. My sigh echoes about the ship. I am in the captain's room right now; one room below, everyone else sleeps. At least I hope they are sleeping.
As I set the quivering dagger on my wrist, I feel it: a sudden thrill of power, bliss...sadness. The dagger slashes my skin with experience and ease, and adrenaline rushes through me as I stare at the blood fountaining from my wrist, as I feel the pain from my throbbing veins.
I deserve this. I deserve it for not being able to keep Riku away from the darkness. I deserve it for not saving Kairi. I deserve to die for all of the sins I have committed.
Almost on its own accord, the knife presses deeper, and I gasp in the pain, glorying in it. So many words to describe how I feel right now: exhilaration, happiness, relief, fright...excitement.
I move the dagger farther up my arm, opening an older, disappearing scar, letting my wrist bleed freely. Giddiness overtakes me as a well of blood cloaks the tiny blade of the dagger. "Oh, God..." I love this feeling...it's, it's better than an orgasm. Deep in my mind, this scares me, but the adrenaline covers up these shaky emotions, and I carve yet another gash in my arm. My grin turns evil and masochistic as I cut into myself, my emotions, and my very sanity.
I glance dully across the room at my Keyblade. Too bad //that// doesn't have any sharp edges, or else I could do this more often. I hate myself...oh, God, I hate myself...
I wonder what Donald and Goofy would say if they knew. They might take the Keyblade away from me, since I have such an impure heart. Or they could just be ashamed. Hell, //I'm// ashamed of myself, of my weakness.
I let myself bleed, it seems, until there is no more blood left in me, making two more wounds in myself. I also consider my ankles, staring down at the smooth, pink flesh...but my arms are enough as of yet. My masochistic craving may one day make me sever my skin somewhere other than my arms...but I am all right...for now...
I tear my shirt a bit, using the cloth to staunch the bleeding. Finally, my addiction has been quieted. I wonder when I will mutilate myself next. Probably the next time I find something sharp.
The salty seawater burns my aching wounds, but I must use it: I don't want any scars. After applying that, then wrapping the cloth around my arm as a kind of poultice, I creep back inside the hold, silently slip Peter's carefully washed dagger into his sheath, and fall asleep cushioned between Donald and Goofy.
The next morning I awaken to a cry of, "You're hurt, Sora!" Donald and Goofy gape at my arm. I flex, smiling comfortingly as my make my excuse:
"Sorry, guys, but I was just feeling restless last night. I fought some Heartless and got them all, but one of them clawed my arm. It's all right. I washed it with salt water; I'll be fine."
Surprisingly enough, they take my lie without much comment. Donald only reprimands me slightly, warning me on the dangers of fighting such powerful Heartless alone. As we start to fly to the clock tower, searching for the Keyhole, I feel a sick smile twisting my lips.
It's always the one you don't expect.
~Owari~
Author's Notes: Yeah, I know this wasn't very well written. The paragraphs don't flow, and I kind of jump around all over the place. I cranked it out in a half an hour, at one o'clock in the morning. It also hasn't been proofread. I didn't really mean to make it all about Sora cutting himself, but I am depressed, so it sort of came out that way. Sorry if I depressed some of you with this story.