Twin Flames (Riven x OC)

Alex

*Warnings: swearing, past self harm, mental illness, sexual content*

I had always considered the first day of school as being the hardest to get through. Especially when that school was an unknown. I wasn't one to like not knowing my surroundings, I enjoyed familiarity and anyone who knew me well, knew that too. My father had told me it was nothing to worry about, that everything would be fine and that the voice in my head was lighting a fuse that coursed fear through my veins for nothing. It just wasn't worth the effort to worry, and I knew he was right. But my head didn't like to listen to reason and logic when everything else sounded much better.

I'd taken my medication in the morning before arriving, and sure I was a bit calmer, but it could've been better. I felt broken from my dependency on medicine. I was a fairy, and fairies shouldn't need to rely on medication to keep mental instabilities at bay. It felt like a failure, though I refused to see myself as such. I wouldn't see myself as one. My father had trained me for years and I was fully prepared for anything thrown at me. My magic was strong but controlled, and I was good at using it. Many around me were envious of my ability to do so from such a young age, but that envy faded through the years as everyone caught up. At sixteen, almost every fairy had at least a strong form of control over their powers.

I wasn't that special anymore as I got older. Though honestly, I liked it. The extra attention I had gotten when I was younger wasn't one I liked. Especially when a lot of it came with teasing and bullying. I still remember when I was twelve, just growing into womanhood, when some girls had spoken of their utter disbelief that the unattractive overweight girl could do things they'd not know to do until they were three years older.

It was a horrible feeling. I had never until that moment considered myself unattractive. Until that moment, I actually hadn't considered myself much of anything, but unattractive certainly wasn't on the list of potentials. I was ordinary enough in my mind to not be noticed, though they proved that puberty had been less than favourable to me.

I'd never felt overweight before and I still didn't. I was curvy, sure, but my body distributed the weight well and I hadn't had an issue with it until they made it one. It became a problem because they decided it was one, and I didn't like that they could hold that over me. Relinquishing control wasn't in my nature, especially with the fire cut deep into my very bones. I was the one in control, but the teasing made me briefly slip up and lose it.

Then my skin had begun flaring up too. I hadn't thought of it as terrible, but when I noticed that I seemed to be the only one where it was obvious enough, it became an insecurity that I hid behind make up for years. With it, my freckles hid too, under a thick layer of foundation that no one would see me without.

I cried and cried, constantly about it. It fuelled my depression as a teenager to the point of feeling so helpless that I resorted to something I had never understood the need for up until that point. My skin became a canvas for red ink made from my own flesh and bones, releasing a rush so strong that it was addictive. It was a secret I hid and it ate away at me. My thighs and hips looked the worst, but my upper arms hadn't gone without hurt either.

I was an addict, not in control, and yet it felt like I had complete control when I did it. That's why I couldn't stop. Not until I had to be hospitalised and my dad found out. His reaction was enough for me to want to curl in on myself and hide. That was just a few months ago, and if the little circle I left every day on my monthly calendar was anything to go by, I hadn't cut my skin in ninety-three days.

Progress, but I'd be lying if I said it didn't weigh heavily on my mind, the thought of doing it again. The control was a thrill, but I'd been learning to find other ways to control myself again.