Traitor | Norray (Complete)

Chapter 3

[TW: self harm, blood]

Chapter 3:

--[Ray's POV]--

(Time skip to when everyone's asleep)

I rolled over quietly in my bed to look at Norman, who was sleeping soundly. I sat up, careful not to let the bed creak. I watched Norman in the dark. He didn't stir, so I stood up and silently crossed the room. I gave Norman and the others one last quick scan before exiting.
I walked down the hall, fiddling with the object in my pocket. A copy of Mom's key.

(Flashback)

"So, what do you want for your reward, Ray?" Mom asked, sighing.

"I want a copy of your key," I answered simply, pointing to her pocket.

Mom raised an eyebrow, "What for?"

"So I can access your office. No one else will have the key to get in, so I can read in peace. The other kids always bother me."

It took some convincing, but Mom eventually gave in, though still a bit suspicious.
It wasn't the office I really wanted into. I wanted to get into the infirmary.

(Switch to another flashback with 6-year-old Emma, Norman, and Ray)

I rummaged through the medical supplies, curious. Emma was trying to make Norman smile, since he was sick in bed.
I could hear the two talking, but I wasn't paying attention. I looked in the cabinets. I picked up a couple pill bottles and read the labels. Lots of Tylenol. I set down the bottle in my hand and moved down to another cabinet. There was a first-aid kit . I sat down, opened the kit and looked inside. There was mostly just bandages and medical tape, but one thing caught my eye. A scalpel- a surgical knife.
I picked it up and took off the protective cap on the tip. The knife glistened in my hand. I stared at it.
I wasn't sure what I was doing, but I knew I wanted to do it. I rolled up my left sleeve slightly and pressed the blade against my wrist, sliding it across in a quick motion.

Suddenly, Mom opened the door and stepped inside, seeing Emma first.

"Emma!" she smiled, "I told you to stay out of-" Her voice was cut off by a shrill scream. I dropped the scalpel and looked at her.

"Ray! What are you doing?!" she ushered Emma out of the room and rushed over to me.

The cut wasn't serious, but blood was gushing down my arm. Mom cleaned up my wound, bandaged it, and sent me away with some Tylenol, which I stuffed under the floorboards under my bed. She didn't even ask why.
Afterwards, Mom put all the medical equipment away and locked the door after her.

(End of flashbacks)

I walked straight to the infirmary, but stopped at the door, lightly running my fingers over the scar on my wrist. I stared into space for a minute, replaying that memory in my head. I finally managed to pull myself out, then pulled the key from my pocket, unlocking the door to the infirmary and shutting it behind me.
I flipped on the lights, opened a cabinet, and pulled out the first-aid kit.
The image of the blood seeping out of my wrist flashed in my mind again. I opened the kit.
I felt the blade slash through my skin again. I pulled out the scalpel.
I saw the blood roll down my arm. I took off the protective cap.
My mind switched to a different memory. I saw Norman crying because of me. Because I couldn't shut myself up. Because I hinted I was going to kill myself.
I rolled my pants down and took the time to count each scar on both my thighs. Scars I made, I put there myself.
I ran my fingers over my wrist again. I wanted to cut my arms. They looked so bare. The scalpel was so sharp, it could cut them easily. But it was too risky. I have to roll up my sleeves when I wash dishes, then everyone would see my arms.

I put the scalpel to my thigh and slid the blade across slowly. I deserved every second of the pain. I'm supposed to help Norman and Emma escape, but I'm so USELESS! Now they'll probably be worrying about me, when they need to put all their focus onto the escape. I raised the scalpel and slashed quick into my skin, going a little deeper than I intended. I slashed my thigh three more times before stopping myself. I cursed under my breath. I'm doing it fast to avoid the pain. I took the scalpel to a cut that I made too quickly, and slowly slid the blade through the bleeding wound. I only made it halfway through before I had to jerk my hand away in pain. I cursed at myself again.

I moved to my other thigh and cut slowly, six times. The house settled, making me jump. I was already listening closely in case anyone came down the hall. When I jumped, the blade ran down my thigh and cut far downwards. I winced slightly at the unexpected cut.

I set the scalpel down beside me and observed my wounds.

By this time, blood was dripping onto the floor. Great, now I had a mess to clean up. I paused and picked up the blade once more, taking it to an uninjured area and cutting a large "U" shape into my skin. I continued and made and "S," then an "E" until I'd written out "U-S-E-L-E-S-S."

I sighed loudly, set the blade back down, and laid down. I should probably clean up before the blood dries, but I'm just so tired. My thought trailed off, as my eyes closed. Without meaning to, I fell asleep.