Dollhouse (COMPLETED)(South Park)

Chapter 10| Ruby

Okay, so this chapter is quite dark. There was a warning right at the beginning of the story, so I feel like I shouldn't have to put this warning, but I will.

TRIGGER WARNING: Self Harm

I rush into my room, slamming the door behind me. I slammed the door so hard that my shelves shake. I flinch as a bottle of dry shampoo falls onto the floor with a dull thud, and walking over to pick it up. As u do so, a few shards of glass fall from my shoulders, and onto the floor. They stand out against the carpet, glittering like stars.

With a sigh, I walk into my bathroom and face myself in the mirror. My bright hair is littered with dark shards of glass, and they shimmer in the light. Carefully, I reach up to my hair and pluck out a shard of glass. I place it in my sink, and move on carefully to remove another sharp shard.

Soon enough, I have the biggest glass shards piled in my sink. I sigh, and stare at my reflection. My skin is clear, no marks, no scars and no bruises. I think of Craig's face. I rarely see him without the cover up, but the rare times I have his skin seems ghostly pale against the bold, black bruises. It makes feel feel extremely guilty.

I try not to think of him as I take out a chip of glass. I flinch as the chip embeds itself in my finger. Blood runs freely from the small wound. It spills down my pointer finger, and drips down my hand, flowing freely until it reaches my elbow. It then stops, and drips onto the tiles. I stare at my pointer finger, shocked that so much blood poured from such a small wound.  The glass chip in my finger catches the light whenever I move, and I rub my thumb against my finger in an attempt to rid my finger of the glass.

Thankfully, it falls out and into the sink, disappearing down the drain. I sigh, and wash the blood from my arm with hot water and a flannel. It wipes away easily, but stains my wrist red.

I stare down at my wrist, my mind running wild. Maybe...

It's crazy. It's stupid. It's most likely pointless.

But maybe if I.. Cut myself someone will take notice.

Craig covers the bruises, refuses to go to the police. Refuses to tell anyone, apart from Tweek, about the abuse. I know why, he hates to see the pity in their eyes. He can't deal with it.

So, I once went to the police. I told them everything. And they sat in silence for a few seconds after my confession, then laughed. The claimed there was no way that Thomas and Laura Tucker would do anything like this. They then told me to leave and to not come back.

No one ever listens.

They all think that the Tucker family is perfect.

I'll show them. I'll finally let them look through the curtains.

I shake my head of the glass, it flies everywhere. In the sink, on the floor. I flinch as a part scratches my forehead. I watch my reflection as the blood bubbles to the surface, and begins to trickle down my forward. I wipe it with my hand, smudging the blood and staining my hand. It's a red mark against my pale forehead, but not more blood falls.

I open my cabinet, searching my shelves for something sharp. The shards of glass won't work. They're sharp, but not sharp enough. I need a razor.

Not finding a razor, I shut the cabinet and take a shaky breath. I stare at my relegation. The smudged blood on my forehead, my bright amber eyes are filled with determination. I smirk at my reflection, confident that I can stop the abuse. Confident that I can finally help my brother instead of him helping me.