Snippet #2575857

(OOC: i'm putting a TRIGGER WARNING right here, just because I don't want anyone to read something they don't want to. There will be an attempted suicide in the following post involving a knife. For the record, I do not condone this behavior at all. If anyone at any point is ever contemplating suicide, please call a hotline or talk to someone to get help. While Harper's reasonings are his own and unique to him and may make sense in his mind, I personally do not feel that suicide is ever the solution to anything, and that it will always get better. I apologize in advance if Harper's actions upset anyone.)






Tallyho spoke. More salt in the wound. More misunderstandings. He was trying to provoke her. Trying to get her to hit him. To kill him. But it looked like he'd have to take matters into his own hands.

And then Kyle's words. Kyle's goddamn words. Taunting. Jeering. Condescending. Any other day, he'd probably fling himself onto the boy. Fists flying. But today was not any other day. This moment was not any other day.

This moment was the last.

"You see?" He asked Tallyho as she walked off, voice sounding more and more distant to his ears, "You want to talk about a lack of empathy? All of you are stunning, shining examples of it. At least I know I don't understand. All of you think you understand, when you know nothing at all. And when I try to shine some light on my situation, not for pity, not for forgiveness, just so you know an inch of what I'm going through, you just continue to kick shit in my face and refuse to think past your own stupid, hurt feelings. But who am I to have harsh feelings, when clearly all of you are so much more in the right? In fact, you know what?"

He grinned. "You're right." He spun around to face everyone, and roared, "You're all right!"

One laugh. One single, breathless laugh. "And I'm done."

He stormed off, walking the length of the table. He paused at the fruit, grabbing a pear and a small knife, peeling away at the skin as he stalked into the corner of the room farthest away from the others. He sat on the ground, cross-legged, facing the corner, back to the rest of the world.

Empty? They wanted empty? They wanted him to pay the consequences?

Three years. Talk about twenty five.

But no more. As he rolled up his sleeve to his elbow, he had made it up in his mind. He was going to pay all his debts right now.

He would have preferred drowning. But with the exit blocked, he'd need to make his own.

He looked at the knife. Metal shining. He was skilled in wood-craft. Surely human flesh wouldn't be that much different to work with?

He glanced at his arm. Took a breath. Briefly Sadie and Xabi popped in his mind, but he snuffed them out before Dorian and Skylar and more could appear. Now. He needed to do this now. Before he regretted it. Before he thought about it. Before he realized...

Two cuts, he interrupted. Two cuts. Just two....two cuts.

He rested the blade on his arm, near the inside of his elbow. Cold. It was cold.

The faces were coming back. Now. He needed to do it now.

Wordlessly, he stabbed it in. He did his best to keep still, hide the flinch, hide the wince. Bit his tongue. Clenched his jaw. He worked the knife deeper and forward, a cold pain train chugging towards his wrist, screaming silently at its arrival. Red spilled out, dripping down his arms, spilling onto the floor. Even if he was prepared to die, he'd be damned if he got blood on this suit while he was still alive.

First his arm. Then his throat, to make sure.

Then finally, finally...he'd be done.