Trust falls

Gone and forgotten

Edit: forgot to add a self harm warning, please be warned!!

A @GreenyGellyGlobe part (Greenygelly's new account)

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I sat alone, tears streaming down my face. It was always like this - me, isolated and hurting.

Suddenly, Basketball appeared, (from the dead lol) her eyes blazing with fury. The moment she spotted me with Grassy, she erupted into a tirade.

"YOU WERE ABOUT TO KILL HIM!" she screamed, her body trembling with rage.

I lowered my gaze, my voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't want to... but Needle forced me to."

Basketball's expression softened slightly, but her words remained sharp. "Maybe Needle doesn't control your life. You can make your own choices, Book. You've always been capable of that. Think about your 'chat' with her - did she ever mention love? She's manipulating you. I know you're young, but you need to see this."

She paused, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "I won't tell anyone you're a murderer. They probably already suspect it's you." With that, she stalked away, leaving me to grapple with her words.

As much as I hated to admit it, Basketball was right. The realization hit me like a punch to the gut. I stood up, my knife clutched tightly in my hand, its weight both comforting and terrifying.

A dark thought crept into my mind: If I were dead, Needle wouldn't be able to force me to kill anymore. I wasn't even a murderer until that fateful day when Cake put me in a chokehold and forced me to join their twisted group.

Without conscious thought, I began sawing at my skin, making small, deliberate cuts. The pain was sharp, but it brought a perverse sense of relief. Each cut felt like penance for the lives I'd taken - Snowball, Clock, Price Tag, and Robot Flower. I missed them all, their faces haunting my thoughts. (EXCEPT SNOWBALL!!!)

"Book? What are you doing? And why do you have a knife?" Marker's voice startled me from my dark reverie. I whirled around, hastily hiding the knife in my cover.

"Oh... nothing!" I exclaimed, plastering a fake smile across my face.

Marker approached, concern etched on his features. "Are you really okay? Everyone at the main camp... they don't think too highly of you. But you took care of me when that... thing attacked me."

I blinked back tears, my voice barely audible. "I-I'm fine, thank you, Marker."

"Hey, I'm here for you," he said softly. "If it's something serious, I promise I won't tell the others."

A moment of silence stretched between us before I whispered, "Y-you swear?"

"I swear," Marker replied firmly.

In a moment of vulnerability, I took his hand and carved an 'O' into it. To my surprise, he allowed it. I then carved a matching 'O' on my own hand, sealing our pact.

"If you tell the others, I'll kill you," I whispered, the threat hollow even to my own ears.

Marker's eyes widened. "Wait, Book. Tell me the truth. Other than Snowball and Clock, who else did you kill?"

I sighed, the weight of my secrets pressing down on me. "I'm not actually a murderer. Clock and... someone else forced me into this."

Marker's expression softened. "Let's start from the beginning. What... what pushed you to self-harm?"

As I prepared to share my story, I felt a mix of fear and relief. Maybe, just maybe, opening up to Marker could be the first step towards breaking free from the cycle of violence and manipulation that had ensnared me. But at the same time, he might tell the others... trust falls.