Bit by Bit [II AU]

Itch

[A warning:

Intrusive thoughts and descriptive self harm]

[Welcome back to OJ's perspective]

OJ stared at his reflection in the mirror in horror. The crack in his glass had gotten longer, and was very slowly oozing out his juice. He quickly grabbed a bandaid, placing it on the vertical opening.

Perfect!

It was like nothing ever happened.

...And then he remembered the blood stain on his hand.

He looked down at it. The splatter was small, but still noticeable. His knuckles were sore from the impact on hitting Nickel.

At least he could actually make out what he did this time...

He shook his head, quickly washing the drying blood off of his hand, watching the red liquid flow down the drain. He stared down at the sink for what felt like an eternity.

"Your fingers could fit down that drain."

He shook off the sudden and inappropriately timed thought. He always hated thoughts like this, something out of pocket, something he wouldn't actually want to go through with.

Right?

—

Itch.

Itch.

Something in me itches.

I shouldn't be itchy.

I'm made of glass.

Itch.

Itch.

My glass is nagging me.

The more I scratch it,

The more I crack.

Itch.

Itch.

—

OJ looked at his reflection. It stared daggers at him. It felt like he was no longer in control of his mind.

—

Itch.

Itch.

I want it to end.

This feeling of discomfort.

This feeling of pain.

Itch.

Itch.

The crack wants to be larger.

I want to see it break.

Set this juice free.

Itch.

Itch.

—

OJ immediately began to panic more as the thoughts plagued his mind. No matter how hard he tried to shake it off, nothing would work. He tried grasping onto something else, anything else,  but no good or funny memories presented themselves.

He was alone.

Alone in his own mind.

No.