Our Little Secret ||Historical Lams Oneshots||

Voices in My Head

yes the title is a bmc reference, i couldn't help it
⚠️trigger warning: s//cide attempt⚠️ (i'm so sorry please don't kill me)

I thought they'd gone away. The taunting voices swirling in my head.

I thought they'd disappeared when I met Alexander.

But I can't hide from the truth. It's always there, tugging at the back of my mind no matter how hard I try to ignore it.

Sinner.

Sick.

Worthless.

The words piled up in my head, a repeating chorus over and over.

Unloved.

Meaningless.

Nothing.

They screamed, getting collectively louder in the deafening silence of the empty tent.

Sinner.

Sick.

Worthless.

Alexander's gone with Gilbert for a night ride.

Unloved.

Meaningless.

Nothing.

I'm alone, sitting on the cot with my head in my hands like a coward.

Sinner.

Sick.

Worthless.

My gaze travels to the gun lying on the escritoire, a package of bullets beside it.

I could end it all now.

Unloved.

Meaningless.

Nothing.

I find myself standing and walking slowly towards the desk. My fingers lightly graze the engravings in the crimson wood. Half of me was pleading to step back and forget this ever happened.

The other half was coaxing me to continue.

Just do it. No one will care. Alexander isn't even here to stop you.

Alexander.

I can't do this to him—

Don't think about him. If he cared, he'd be here.

My body takes a mind of its own and picks the weapon up off of its resting place. The smooth wood fits perfectly into my hands.

Funny how something so beautiful wields so many deadly abilities.

Somehow I found the gun loaded and an empty bullet casing laying in my palm.

A wave of subtle euphoria washes over me as I think of the sweet release of death.

Sinner.

I cocked it.

Sick.

I take a deep, shaky, unsteady breath.

Worthless.

I put the barrel against my temple, the cold metal around the tip chilling me to the bone, for more reasons than one.

Unloved.

My fingers find the trigger.

Meaningless.