Awaken (Hermitcraft Fanfiction)

XV. Crises

TW: self harm, abuse/cruelty

Pearl sank against the wall of her upside-down ship. The planks were rough against her back as she leaned against them, drinking in the night air. She sighed, holding back tears as she opened the door and crawled inside, closing it behind her. She collapsed on the floor, unable to find the basic energy needed to move.

A heavy, salty tear leaked from the corner of her eye as her mental concentration broke. She couldn't do it. Everything that had happened so far was her fault. She had forced the destruction of Empires. She was lying to Gem when she said things would get better. She was letting the Watchers down by procrastinating her next step. She knew what needed to be done. Her magic was at the capacity she needed it to be. Never had her levels been so high.

So why did she feel so drained?

Pearl curled in on herself, failing to shut out the noise of the world. She let out a choked sob, pressing the sides of her head in the hopes it would stop the stream of negative thoughts flooding her brain. It only served to make them worse, opening the valve of the faucet that held back the deprecating stream.

None of this would have happened if she hadn't chosen to leave her single-player world. It was lonely and isolated, which is precisely what she deserved. She spent hours each day grinding for resources so she could build her dreams. Countless days went by as she searched continuously for items and blocks. Her actions had predetermined, predictable consequences. If she slipped in the Nether, she would spend several hours retrieving her gear. If she drowned in an ocean monument, she rescued her stuff before the drowned could steal it.

The moment she stepped through that accursed rift she had lost that independence. It was comforting to be with people again after years of solitude; it also felt wrong, as if she couldn't figure out how to interact properly.

Pearl knew she shouldn't feel this way. She had been accepted lovingly by Grian, Scar, Mumbo, and Impulse into the Boatem crew on the northernmost peninsula of the continent. She consistently hung out with Gem as they slowly became used to server life. Although she rarely saw Zeroc, she knew he was recovering well. Everything at the moment should have been filling her with contentment and joy.

But it wasn't.

She had stepped through that portal. She had stood by as Grian was taken by the Watchers. She had joined the Watchers willingly. She had stolen the Codfather head to provoke Jimmy. She had awakened Gem from her peaceful slumber. She had nearly given them away countless times.

Every tragedy stemmed from her actions. She could have refused at any moment and remained outside the discord sweeping the universes.

So why didn't she?

Perhaps Xalyn was right. They said she deserved the curses and insults they hurled at her entirely because she was different. They said everything was wrong with her, and the only way to fix her incompetence was through harsh methods. Every lash from the whip, blast of magic from their hand, and torrent of slander from their lips was designed to strengthen and build her up.

She was weak, and the only way to fix that was through the brutality she deserved.

The hilt of her dagger glinted from its sheath in her boot. She fingered the embossed handle, imagining the blissful release it would leave behind as it cut a slit in her skin. She shook herself, reminding herself of the hateful pain from Xalyn's torment. It was why she had resolved to leave.

But everything was her fault, wasn't it? She was unable to bring herself to do what was necessary for the survival of Minecraft as a whole. It was impossible for her to think of a suitable way to return Grian to his powerful Watcher form. Everything she thought of had a thousand ways it could go wrong. Each time she worked up the courage to try, something deprived her of the space required to perform it.