ｏｍｏｒｉ： １０ ｙｅａｒｓ (2022 ver)

friday

warnings: graphic depiction of suicide, negative self-talk/suicidal thoughts

I glanced to the headstone one last time. My hands were shaking. Why was I shaking? I didn't know. My ears rang. My pulse skipped beats. I moved the steak knife away to increase its force, but hesitated to drive it into my body.

Why hesitate?

You're not worth the hesitation.

Do it.

I took a deep inhale, squinted my eyes shut and drove the blade into my abdomen. I let out a yelp of anguish as it went in, coughing up claret as I went, but I gathered all of the strength I could to yank it out again. My hands trembled. The knife was rusted and blunt, so it took a bit more effort, but I drove it in once more, shaking as I saw my own blood coating the knife-edge. Coughing up vital fluid and letting the taste of iron flood through my mouth, out of my lips and to the grass, I fell forward, the force of landing on my stomach pushing the blade further. Even though the pain was agonising, I smiled a little as I closed my eye.

When I woke up, Mari's arms were wrapped around me. "It's so good to see you. Let's go home."

I returned her embrace, though I didn't let the smallest hint of happiness show. Show no weakness. Show no mercy. And, as we wandered into the forest behind the graveyard, shedding my mortal form as it pathetically bled, I could feel Omori, the real me, pull Sunny closer.

Oyasumi, oyasumi...

...I know that it's hard to do.

THE END (bad)