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Broken
“Broken”
By: Shinigami Goddess ((no. not Lionna.))
Content: cutting/SI, faint shonen-ai
June 21, 2001
Disclaimers: although I do not own the characters used here their personalities, or rather the personality that I used for the POV, is more or less me- I mean mine.
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A piece of a broken mirror lies hidden in the drawer beside my bed. A nasty little thing not longer than my thumb. When I first picked it up I scoffed at all the warnings that the edges were sharp. But the trembling fingers that held it dropped it... it caught in the skin of a pale wrist and then slipped out. Blood welled up... Blossoms of color on a pale backdrop.
Tentatively I licked it, what taste would I find? But it was too little. I waited, then, waited for it to blossom a bit more... fascinated as the droplets of blood slid slowly down the small cut. Vaguely I noted that I must have hit a vein to have such a small cut produce blood. I licked again, beginning to like it. I knew I couldn't continue that night, however, so I put the little piece of mirror again, promising to return to it, to use it again, at a later time.
As I sucked at the small cut, waiting it to stop bleeding, I dully remembered a promise I'd made. Guilt did hit, I do not like to break promises, but it was not enough to stop me from enjoying the thin liquid that still met my tongue. I fell asleep, wishing to think of the broken promise the next day.
Indeed I did. I awoke and dressed, and then as I brushed my hair I recalled the promise and who I made it to. Back when the five of us were still on Earth I had ended up at a number of schools where Heero Yuy, the pilot of Wing Gundam, was staying. In fact one time we ended up in the same dorm room.
That had been difficult, for I was still often cutting at the time. One night I came out of the bathroom, towel about my waist and brush in hand as I wrestled with snarled hair. I sat on the bed, propping my feet up on a pillow. Heero shut off his laptop, heading to the bathroom to shower since I was done. He bent down to dig in the chest at the end of his bed and I guess by chance his eyes flickered to me, and then his gaze caught on my ankles. I had been watching him through my bangs and when I saw that he had frozen I cursed silently. Quickly I drew my legs up under me, acting as if I was just shifting position.
He didn't buy it. The next minute he was sitting on my bed, his profile to me. “Why?” I ignored him, I wasn't ready to answer. This time his face towards me and he stared into my eyes, “Why did you do it, Duo?”
His intense gaze bored into me, I felt him struggling to see the reason. I just stared at him, feeling my eyes water. No one ever noticed. There was no reason to or no way they could. I was typically so careful with hiding it. As I stared at him, fighting back tears, he finally nodded at me, turning his gaze away.
When his eyes returned to mind he spoke softly and firmly, “Promise me. Promise me you won't do it again, Duo.”
He was using my name... he was so serious... his tone even was bit... concerned... guilty. Softly I whispered, “I promise.”
I finished braiding my hair and cast a glance to the drawer within an arm's length. How long ago had that promise been made? Six months? Longer? Heh... whatever. It hardly mattered. No one was with me now. But... but I'd told him I wouldn't, had even babbled and ranted to him and told about some of the cutting... and assured I wouldn't again.
There I went, breaking a promise. I stood up and slipped on my jacket and my shoes. I needed to get some things - errands to run.
When I returned to the small apartment I was renting, I set the bag of groceries down on the counter in the kitchen and then started to make a light dinner. I watched the news, checked for anything on my computer, and then was preparing for bed.
I padded over softly to the drawer and opened it, picking up the shard of glass. I would be breaking a promise on my own will this time. I could not excuse it... I would be purposefully breaking it... The urge to go back to the kitchen and pick up my bottle of sleeping pills was pulling at me, though, and I knew it was either the shard or the pills. Smirking softly, laughing at myself, I figured cuts were little compared to what damage I could do with the latter.
Another slice, the opposite wrist. Sticking the edge in through the skin and dragging it. Sharp, small pain, but then it was over as the shard was picked up again. Blood welled up again. I licked at again, rather liking this. The blood continued to appear and I licked at it again and again until it finally closed enough to stop bleeding.
A few more slim slices that would the next day turn only as thin red marks. I put the shard away went to bed. I would stop, now, I told myself. I wouldn't continue with it.
But it kept going on... like an addiction of sorts. I now stand in the bathroom of that small apartment and stare into the medicine cabinet mirror. My reflection's funny, I chuckle. It's cracked and splintered, pieces are missing. One good swing with a hammer had certainly improved the look. Oh yes, wasn't there a song... “when will my reflection show who I am inside”? Well... this certainly corrected everything. I hold the shard that I kept in my hand. Looking against at my reflection, I slowly hold up my arms, wrists facing towards the glass. Red welts show back at me, obvious evidence that I was guilty.
My expression drops. I put my hands back at my side and stare into the splintered reflection. How can I know myself? I don't know myself. But I hate what I do know of myself. I stare at the reflection for a long while... keeping a blank mind as I watch my dull cobalt stare that faces me. Bemusedly I raise an eyebrow,
Broken mirror. Broken promise.
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