Security Breach Adventures

Mouthful of Trash, Trashing My Mouth

In which nice Eclipse is indulging in his more questionable coping mechanism, reflecting on what brought him to it and his recent fight with Moon... (CW: discussion of eating as a coping mechanism, body horror/self-mutilation. This takes place sometime after I Didn't Mean It...)

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Alone, Roxy's not here tonight. Not unusual, just a bit upsetting. It's easier to bear the shame of being on my knees, shoveling trash into my mouth, with her around.

The thought of coming back another night when she can be here occurs to me, but then it makes me feel sick. I really don't want to go back to the daycare right now. Ever since the fight, things have been... Off, between me and Moon.

I'm not mad at him. He's not mad at me. We just don't know how to talk to each other anymore.

You'd think the opposite would be true now that we know we both blame ourselves for what happened to Sun, but no. Now we just feel worse, because we hate that the other feels at fault. Chica said to put it all behind us, but I don't think we can. Not until Sun is fixed.

Yeah, I can't go back until I've settled my stomach. I grab a clump of trash, shoving it in my mouth and trying not to gag. It gets better as you go.

I wipe the grime from my face-plate only to smear more on it when I bite into another handful of trash, crushing soda can scraps between my teeth. There isn't really silence, not with the sounds of my chewing and the machinery in my stomach whirring as it breaks everything down further, and then there's my claws scraping through the pile.

Faz, what would Moon think if he saw me like this? He'd probably be rightfully disgusted. And ashamed. Or maybe he'd just laugh at how pathetic I am. I don't know. I thought I knew my brother well enough to gauge his thoughts, but it turns out I was sorely mistaken.

At least the garbage is tasting better now. Roxy wasn't wrong when she said it was an acquired taste.

Despite the shame I feel eating trash like a mangy, matted rat, on the whole it helps me push the stress to the back of my mind for a while. And I have control over what I eat, how much I eat, and when I stop. I get some energy back without chancing a nightmare like when I have to sleep to recharge.

There's no risk of getting caught down here, either. None of the other animatronics come here any more than they have to, repulsed by the dark and dank, and there's no human staff around at this time of night.

As I sift through the rubbish, I come across a scuffed up magnet with a crack running down the middle- all that holds it together is its own magnetism, which is pretty neat. But the bits of the printed design I can see are blue with yellow stars, and I have to tuck it under the bottom of the pile as my stomach turns.

... I still think a lot about what Moon said. Did he really think he may have been somewhat subconsciously trying to hurt me? Was it really just so I'd leave him alone, or did something deep inside him want to express a truth he doesn't consciously believe?

I don't know. How could I? I'm not Moon. If I were, then I wouldn't be down here. Maybe I'd be elsewhere, indulging in some other vice to soothe my heartache. Come to think of it, does Moon self-sooth in any way? Long walks, good music, a security blanket?

Probably not, knowing my brother. The thought crosses my mind that I should coax him into finding a coping mechanism that works for him, makes him feel better, but then I have to scoff and roll my eyes at myself. I am literally on my knees eating trash. I'm not any kind of authority or wise guru of coping mechanisms, nothing I could ever suggest would actually help him.