Unto Your Own

Chapter I: The Wall

[Howard Moon's POV]

Warning: Self-harm and suicide mention.

If ever a piece of advice were vital, it would be now. Under this vanishing light and this catastrophe, fractions of what he told me flung about in my skull. Useless. The single words blurred until the room became a jail cell in the middle of the sun. I need the vibe to those words. I need something more. I need it now.

After an hour of stomach knots and drowning, I lied down and stared at the dark wall opposite me. It seemed to move to and fro in a hypnotizing motion, leaving me more ill than I was sitting up. I turned over and got an eyeful of my left arm. Its red mouths screaming at me, each a crooked monster wanting to burrow itself deeper into my pasty skin. Only at night did I regret and hate each mark that I left. Looking at them in the dark room, even through peripherals, brought me into a dip unlike when I had created them. A dip where I didn't want to get out, and I don't want to wake up. I would rather slice myself open until I hit bone over and over again before I ever befriend a thousand dark walls and stare at what I'd done. Creation was one thing, living with the aftermath was another world altogether.

I engulfed my entire body under the duvet, and sewed my eyes shut with wishes of death. Images of those who might care if I were gone rushed through my head. Each one a tear trying to break free from me but there were none left to spare. Nonsense. Constant, randomized nonsense rattled and belted out at me in my metallic skull. So loud. I can't stand it!

All of my family and good mates shone brighter when I vanished in the portraits that hung in my head. Their dreams could be reached. Their ears would no longer be filled with horrid scatting and my endless whinging. I will never be a thorn again. I will never hurt or be hurt again. No. No, not ever again.

Grinding teeth. Fetal rocking. Wailing. Repeat.

Grinding teeth. Fetal rocking. Wailing. Repeat.

Unending nights left the sun in giggles, knowing that Death always ignored the whinging and awake like some cruel, reaper Saint Nick. I sat up, ignoring the heaviness surrounding my eyes. The wall beside me was now coated in a thin layer of sunshine. How could it rock me so horridly the night before, and yet recover so quickly? I wish I were as two-dimensional and easily painted over as a wall.

"Howard," Came a giddy voice from behind the door. "Wake up! We have to help Naboo with new inventory today." I heard the door handle and quickly sat up, pulling up my sleeves as the raven entered the room. "I thought you were gonna wake me up! We're gonna be late."

I rolled my eyes and nonchalantly nodded.

"Come on. You're like a fart in a trance."

"Vince," I paused to look up at the spindly, black-haired creature in front of me, his attire adorned with glitter and a strange painted-on creature. "Please." He shrugged and shook his head. "What?"

The wind rushed out of me. "I'm not feeling well this morn. Can you just go in by yourself?"

"Excuse me?" Vince scoffed. "I can't do it all by myself. You know Naboo will have us do everything ourselves." He grabbed the ends of the duvet and yanked it off of the bed, exposing my disgusting body only covered in pink underwear and a long-sleeve shirt.

"Oh yes. You frail, frail little piece of art wouldn't dare put your hair or skin at risk of sweat." I got to my feet and went to the toilet, slamming the door shut behind me. "I'm not going."

The door swung open just as I sat on the toilet. "Yes you are!"

"Vince, shut the fucking door!"

"Go on," He shifted his stance and looked at me impatiently. "Take your piss and then throw on some trousers. I'm not leaving unless you come with me."

I quickly released myself and stood back up. "No."

"Yes."

I looked back up at him to see him lick the side of his mouth and give me the look of need. Vince liked to use people to do things for him because he is and always was a princess. He went back into the room and threw a pair or beige trousers at my face.

"I will put them 'round your legs for you if I need to."

"You don't need me."

"Yes, I do. I-" Vince looked off as if the curtain had changed shape.

"You what?"

He walked up to me, blue eyes avoiding my own shit-coloured specs of shit, and grabbed the trousers out of my hand. "Come on, Howard. I don't want to be alone today."

The hair on my legs stood on end as he bent down and grabbed my ankle. He didn't want to be alone? He's never alone. Vince his a million idiot mates, most unemployed, and they would race over to mash about in loud electronic music at any mention. I'm not a fun to be around kind of guy. Of all people he knows that best.

"Invite Leroy or somebody. I'm sure he would be better to entertain and help you at the shop."

Vince dropped the trousers and looked up at me, kitten eyes gleaming for attention and to be pat on the head. "No. I need you today, alright?"

The air froze in one instant as the words hung about in front of my eyes. What was I hearing? It was utter bullshit. "What?"

"Don't make me repeat it."

"Come on, say it. For my own sanity, little man."

He moved strands of his hair away from his eyes and stood up, his toes pointed bashfully. Colour painted his skin a shade darker for a hint of a moment. "I need you."

A smile crept up onto my lips. I searched his face for something. It wasn't the words that I wanted necessarily, it was the magick of his gestures. I needed that. I needed proof.