Visual Kei One-Shots

Ni~Ya x Hitsugi (Nightmare)

*A/N: Reading back over this, I have no idea what the hell I have just written. PLEASE READ WITH CAUTION, GRAPHIC CONTENT, SELF HARM AND NEGATIVE SELF IMAGE. - filth*

I pulled the ends on my short blonde hair. I hated this. It has been less than twelve hours since we broke up, but I couldn't handle it. I loved you. I couldn't simply just return to being your friend, it was too much to ask.

You had asked me not to hurt myself, that was partially the reason why we broke up. You couldn't stand that I would hurt myself, after our fights, or when I couldn't handle the pressure anymore. You made me promise not to hurt myself because of this breakup, but I can't keep it, how can you expect me too? That feat is impossible.

I knew when Monday morning came around you would smile and pretend that everything was alright, and I would smile back. Although underneath I knew I would die inside. I wouldn't be able to touch you, hug you, kiss you. Damn I would miss that. I already miss everything about you.

I felt sick. Ever since you mentioned to me about taking a break, two days ago, I have been feeling sick. Although it could be partially due the fact that I haven't eaten since you broke the news to me.

Thoughts still swirled around my head, even though you had answered most of them I couldn't get them out of my mind.

Was there someone else? Was I not pretty enough? Was I too fat? Did I take work too seriously? Had I not spent enough time with you? Do you still love me?

"Hitsugi..." I sobbed.

God I needed you so badly. You were my rock, you always made me stable, especially after my breakdowns.

So tonight, I will be breaking my promise, it only seems fair since you broke yours. You said that we'd be together for ever.

With trembling hands I filled up the bath tub. I could drown myself. That would take away all my problems, or I could just sit in the freezing water until my body shut down. I shook my head. No, I needed to suffer. I wasn't good enough for you, taking a quick way out would only prove that much.

But I don't want to suffer anymore. So what if you blame yourself? No matter what the technical reason for my death was, it would really be of a broken heart.

No I don't want you to suffer. You have already suffered enough by simply being in my presence. Gosh I was so worthless. I craved you, but you were better off without me and my problems.

Slowly I undressed. As I discarded each item, tears fell. I couldn't stand the sight of my body, it sickened me.

I was ungainly to look at, a blob of scars and fat.

It was hard to believe that you did once love me. Perhaps you didn't actually, maybe that was a lie.

Lifting up the soap I stared at the only thing that mattered to me now.

Once in a rage you had gone through my apartment and removed all my blades, so now I hid them in the most obvious places, where you wouldn't expect to find them.

The tears continued to fall as I ran the blade against my thumb. A small line of crimson welled up, promising better things to come.

I dared not press the blade to my wrists, come Monday morning I knew you would watch me like a hawk, looking for signs of distress carved there.

So instead I painted the area of my body that I hated the most. The area I didn't need to worry about anymore, considering that your hands would never touch me again.

Running a line from my hip to my belly button I wondered if I cut deep enough, if the fat would come out. Maybe I could be rid of it.

The water lapped at the new entrance into my body, washing away my sin, cleansing my tender insides.

The next cut was higher, but nowhere as deep as the first. I smeared the blood up my chest and over my shoulder.

Looking at the stain I wonder if you would notice if I cut that high. I moved the blade up and made a small cut, watching in fascination as it pooled in the space above my collarbone, before running down my chest.

The human body was amazing. It could suffer abuse and repair itself for the next encounter.

Lowering the blade I made another slit on my waist. The liquid welled up and ran along my fat rolls. I followed it cutting along were my fat bulged out. This was probably the actual reason why you didn't want me. I was too fat.

I cut lower, before moving down to my thighs.

Even they were huge.

There were several purple scars amongst the white ones, showing the last time I had damaged myself. Avoiding them, I began the work of painting the white lines. White was such a boring colour. It needed a little bit of brightness, a little bit of darkness. Crimson on the other hand was the perfect colour, it incorporated both, and seemed to go nicely with the contrast of my pale skin.

Slowly the water was turning pink. I wonder how much more blood it needed before I could get it to turn into the beautiful colour I adored so much.

Splitting the skin again, I rubbed my hands along the beautiful mess I hand made.

Tomorrow the blood would be gone, but I knew that I would still see the stain, the taint. I would never be free from it. But you would. You would never have to worry about this again.

I began crying again. Pathetically I wiped the salty liquid away. I probably just made myself look like a psycho mass murderer. It was at times like this when I needed you the most. I could take your anger, your pitying looks, I just wanted you to save me. Now the only person who could save me was gone.

I was on my own. Defenceless in this terrifying would.

I laughed in spite of myself. Nightmare. Currently I was looking like something out of a nightmare.

This whole situation was a nightmare. But unfortunately I couldn't wake up. Because in reality I was already awake.

I slashed again, releasing a small whimper. That one hurt.

Closing my eyes I added a few more strokes of colour to my masterpiece. Opening them I noticed the water had gotten darker, but it was still pink. I figured I would virtually have to kill myself for it to be crimson. But that could wait until another night. Perhaps the night you tell me that you're seeing someone else. Or the night that Nightmare disbands.

Leaning forward I pulled the plug. Water rushed down the drain, and my blood fell from my skin, marring the white bottom of the bathtub. Standing up more blood flowed. As I walked to my bedroom I left bloody footprints upon the floor. Tonight I couldn't care less about looking after myself. Laying down on my bed, I let my life soak the sheets. Other things had long since stained them since I had bought them, so something new wouldn't matter. When morning came I would look after myself, but until then I had no life left in me.