Dancing On The Razor's Edge, Together

VI. All Roses Have Their Thorns

(A/N: So, quick heads up ahead of this chapter. This will be quite a bit darker in comparison to the other chapters so far. Trigger warnings ahead for the following themes: cutting, thoughts and execution of eventual suicide. If you're in a dark place, or you're not in the right frame of mind, it may be best to leave this chapter alone. My point being, approach this with the right mindset. If you need genuine help, there are helplines that you can use out there to talk about these issues, which I'll put in the author's note at the end of this chapter. Tread carefully.) ~Shay

~30 years earlier~

7:30pm. Ruby looked at the calendar on the wall: February 11th, 1965. Looking down at her hands, she saw a blood-stained razor blade, which immediately caused her eyes to widen.

On the floor of the hallway behind her, lay five of her friends, deep gashes across their throats, the blood already soaked into the carpet, their eyes open in horror. Looking ahead of her inside the room, was a small antique radio, playing a soft tune; she recognised it as the Mills Brothers, singing You Always Hurt The One You Love. Hearing faint whimpering from elsewhere in the room, she set her eyes on a young woman, her hands just in front of her face, knelt down on the floor. It looked as though she was surrendering, and as Ruby slowly approached her, she spoke.

"Ruby! What's... gotten into you? We're your friends, remember? P-Please, stop this!"

It was for only a short moment that Ruby looked down at the razor blade in her hand... blood still dripped from its sleek silver edge, which caused her to look over her shoulder, out of the door to the room; had she been the one responsible for her friends' deaths? Looking back to the scared girl on the floor, she slowly reached down to her, before grabbing her roughly by the scruff of her neck, pulling her up so that she stood level with her. As she placed her hand on the girl's shoulder, she thrashed about in her grip quite a bit. And so, when Ruby brought the razor closer to her throat, she began to scream. At that moment, Ruby slit across her neck from ear to ear, and as the blood began to flow out of the wound, she dropped her friend from her grip, the corpse hitting the floor with a loud thud.

The house fell deathly quiet, save for the radio that was still playing in the air of the room. With everyone that she'd seen in the house killed now, she felt a sense of accomplishment. Yet, it felt so foreign to her. Not even a few hours earlier in the evening, she felt fine. Her friends and her boyfriend had invited her to this house party. She had told herself from the beginning that she wasn't too interested. But something deep inside her mind, had urged her to go. She couldn't shake the feeling that it was that same urge, that led to her killing all of her friends, and her boyfriend. Wandering around the house now, Ruby was filled with a sense of melancholy; moving from room to room, she only found body after body, with blood covering the walls and floor. The only room where this wasn't the case, was the bathroom.

Walking in, she looked out of the window; at this time in the evening, the sun was on the horizon, a beautiful winter sunset which almost brought a tear to her eye. Taking the small bobble out of her hair, she lay it on the counter just before the sink. Stepping slowly, she sat down in the bathtub for a moment, her hands hunched over her knees, looking in shame and desperation. Ruby was overcome with guilt that she'd never felt the likes of before. It drew tears from her eyes, but no sound came from her mouth, save for a couple of choked sobs, few and far between. Looking to the blade in her hand, she looked to her wrist, between the two for a moment. Laying back in the tub, she placed her head on the rim, between the wall and tub.

Unfolding the blade, she held out her arm against the rim of the tub, catching her wrist in the gleam of the sunset. Taking it to her wrist, she sliced slowly across her skin, catching the veins as much as she could, before following suit with a slice vertically up the same forearm. Pushing air through her teeth, she gritted them tightly together, before carefully moving the blade to her other hand.