"It" Can't Be Helped (Revised) | ✔️ | Blue Exorcist

22

I didn't remember how, but I ended up in one of the bathrooms. I stood in front of a mirror, my fingers clutching the sink. My reflection look disheveled and I was soaked. My shoulder's rose and fell rapidly, my breathing ragged. I stared at my pathetic appearance for several seconds, my heart hammering in my chest. After my brain caught up with my body, I ripped my jacket off, the wet fabric clinging to my skin uncomfortably. I walked over to a nearby hand dryer, flipping the nozzle upward and placing my jacket over it. I jammed my palm on the metal button and the machine roared to life.

With one article of my uniform drying, I pondered my next steps. I leaned against the nearby stall, my fingers ripping at my hair. A sob erupted from my throat and I slid down, resting my elbows on my knees.

Everything was going to shit, and it was spiraling faster than I could deal with. First it was these damn demon powers, dad's death, Yukio being an Exorcist, the Grigori finding me, the death sentence, almost dying to a gunshot, the self harm, the cram school finding out, the picture, now this fiasco? I should've ended things months ago and saved myself the headache. Thoughts of my blade poisoned my thoughts. If I got my hands on it, even for just a moment, I'd shred my arms until they were barely attached. I'd leave nothing but bone behind. I'd fillet this body until it resembled nothing more than a carcass at the butcher shop. Maybe it was some sort of physical embodiment of my struggles, but I wanted to vandalize this body until nothing remained but gore.

My abdomen rumbled violently and my thoughts shifted to my scarcely eaten lunch. My stomach lurched and I shoved myself over to the closest toilet. I gagged and choked on the meager contents of my stomach. Eventually, I coughed up my small lunch, my skin breaking out in a cold sweat and my chest heaving. The awful taste of stomach acid burned the back of my throat. A thought crossed my mind and I acted on the impulse. I shoved a few fingers into my mouth, wiggling them at the back of my throat. I choked and withdrew my fingers, gasping for breath. Continuing on my actions, I inserted my fingers back inside. My body rejected the intruders, spasming as I gagged. I repeated the process a few times, tears welling up in my eyes and falling down my cheeks. I felt feverish and saliva covered my fingers, but eventually, I succeeded. A strangled sound echoed off the walls and I vomited once more. This time, only bile came out. I spat into the toilet, trying to rid my mouth of the taste. Pushing myself up, I flushed the toilet and exited the stall. I walked over to the sink, turning on the faucet and wetting my heated face.

That was fucking horrible.

I sighed and leaned against the nearby wall. The tile was cool against my clammy skin. I pondered my actions as my body recovered. While the experience was absolute hell, I was left feeling much better, lighter even. It was intense and mind numbing, which is exactly what I wanted. Cutting had it's own pain, but the violent reactions of my body were somehow similar. It didn't bring forth any blood, and while I would miss it, I couldn't help but believe that this was the perfect solution. I wasn't scarring myself anymore, and without any physical marks, no one would find out.

Speaking of marks, I looked down at my bare arms. I walked over and retrieved my still damp jacket. Shrugging it onto my shoulders I assessed the torn sleeve. Thankfully, I had another one hanging in my closet, but I'd have to go back to frequent laundry days, again. I sighed and did my best to reposition the fabric. Once covered, I clumsily buttoned my cuff. With the rip being as long as it was, it didn't do much. Every time I bent my elbow, the fabric would part, exposing the skin underneath. At least the button made sure it stayed attached at the wrist. I didn't know how I'd make it through the rest of my classes, though. I'd have to be careful with how I sat, maybe sitting with my arm in my lap would help? That way my desk would cover most of the damage.

With a somewhat decent plan in place, I exited the bathroom. Glancing up at a wall clock, I realized I was extremely tardy. The bell had rung without me realizing it. I begrudgingly made my way to the last of my day classes.