Spirit Animals Oneshots

To be Depressed at Fifteen

The PTSD and trauma of the 4 Fallen, when it gets to be too much. 

Lyrics are from the song above by Briannnlouis. 

Tw: Mentions of self harm, "drugs", suicide, the parasites of the Wyrm, and depression.

< Meilin > 

Teens use drugs to cope with pain.

I admit, I do feel betrayed. To know that my father willingly let me drink the Bile, to know that he was so obsessed with perfection he put me, his own daughter, in harms way.

I feel even more betrayed knowing I don't blame him for it. I blame myself.

A part of me sees that my father doesn't truly love me- how can he? I'm a shameful thing, nothing of which he expects much less someone he asked for. Then, to rub salt in the wound, the love of his life is dead. Gone so I could live. 

The thoughts get so very loud, the black seeping into my mind and shrouding my senses in a sickening shade of red. An overwhelming physical pain is all I remember before blacking out each time, a newfound mental pain presenting itself when I open my eyes to see the dead bodies scattered around me. 

I'm slipping away. 

And in some warped sense of reality I now know as routine, the Bile is almost a relief.

It feels like a ghastly bliss spilling through my veins, pulling me away from pure torture- and allowing me a moment to rest. A rest I will never experience consciously, not when blood is on my hands.

This corrupt self- it's taunting me endlessly. I'm a freak, a bringer of tragedy. 

My only escape being the drug-induced comma of the Bile. 

< Rollan >

They'll cut lines upon their veins.

None of them know the truth, not really.

I'm from the streets, I ran away from the orphanage when I was nine, and I have scars littering the edge of my wrist. Those are key to my origin, everything someone is to know about me.

When Mom came back into my life, I had an excuse for those scars. I told everyone they were a result of Wikerus, her raven.

Something I'll never admit is, by having vivid memories of Mom's bonding sickness, I know it wasn't him. Granted, she doesn't remember and she won't. 

But I do- all too much.

It's a secret I'll take to my grave, a burden I'll carry alone. Each and every time I take a glance at my wrist, the memories return and I see her in her delirium, enraged and at a loss for sanity.

When she comes near me even now, it kills me inside as I relive those moments.

I'm scared of my own mother for something she could never control.

Maybe that made me more of a monster than she ever was.

< Conor >

They'll drink until they are ill.

Calm. A word I haven't known since the Wyrm.

(A/N - Kinda disgusting part)

It comes for me in my sleep, crawling through a gaping hole formed inside my chest. I attack the sickening creature with my axe, fending it off before it can worm its way back into my mind. There's a sense of completion, knowing it's gone- only it isn't.