--Bertha Oneshots--

Being Myself

TWs: Attempted s*icide, mentions of self-harm, knifes, very upsetting scenes/angst ⚠️
Note: set a few years before The Great Painting Job

"How could I be so daft?!" Roy quietly teared up, staring at his reflection in the washroom mirror. The room itself was seemingly still, ignoring the conversations from outside the dispatch department from where the morning shift is about to start. Before going in, he made sure the room was clear; who would want to see him like this? They would criticise and tease on how weak he looked. And oh how he tried to not appear as weak.

Weak.

He was weak. Someone... please turn it down so he could appear stronger.

He is weak. He can't control it.

Why does he have to be so weak? Why does he have to be so different from everyone else? Maybe if he acted like his peers more, people wouldn't see him as such. Maybe if he stopped messing up at school, his teacher wouldn't be so harsh on him with the cane in their hand. The cold, slapping, cracking of the ruler would sting and burn the wrists where he kept his keen spirit. Pressuring it, criticising it, breaking it to point it shatters into small fragments. It was a struggle to glue himself back together after a lesson, having no choice but to bottle up these pieces in a jar. He knows he wasn't the 'best student' in the school, but it was obvious that they don't want his mess anymore.

It was obvious that they don't want him.

Roy continued to make eye contact with the mirror, crunching his hands into small fists. He tightened the wrists further, letting hopelessness run down his face. School year by school year, as he learned more about how harsh the real world is, the spirit couldn't keep up with the expectations anymore and had completely disappeared from his body. The aloof remarks from his classmates were disguised as simple jokes, only for it to take out a few hammers to break what is left of the small shards. There isn't a lot. Only a pile of dust remained, consisting of insomnia and paper cut-feeling wounds along his left arm.

Then, came the work experience.

Roy's parents helped him find a temporary job at a factory not too far from his home. As a janitor/helper. Seems easy enough, but the thought of going to a work environment for the first time only made him panic. It would probably be like school, he thought, seeing himself more inferior then the other workers that are most likely going to be older and wiser then him. Although...they don't know how weak he is, he might have a chance to finally fit in!

The first day of the work experience came, and Roy remembered how prepared he was on that day, waiting anxiously by the big doors of the building. Someone was supposed to meet him, just to give him a tour of the place and to go over a few safety rules. He knew first impressions matter so before going in, he made sure to be seen as presentable and easy to blend in amongst the others. A fixed posture, a watery smile. Good. Just what the people expected.

Well, it was what he thought was expected.

The foreman of the place finally arrived, mumbling something Roy cannot comprehend or even translate. Mr Duncan was his name, shaking the young lad's hand before wandering around each room with him, pointing out the rules along the way. Roy could sense a bit of strictness in his tone,
only deciding to play it safe by staying on his good side. During the tour, Mr Duncan interpreted that Roy would mostly do the work experience in the dispatch department since he was not allowed to be near the machines. Not even close to their best machine, Bertha, who was at the time about to get upgraded with a computer.

After the rules were known and Mr Duncan set him in a random spot in the department, Roy became wearingly happy. The act had worked, yet for some reason, doing it only made him feel more painfully tired than usual. Is it normal to feel like this after a conversation? Maybe, but remember, people want you to act like this and they expect you to act like this. They don't care how much you tear off. They don't care how much it melts on your face until you burn out. They just want you to be the life of the party. And Roy unfortunately knew that. So he kept the act up.