The Pain Feels Right {Culture x Crash Fanfiction}

Words Hurt

Culture's POV:
"Uggggghhhhh!" you screamed. You stared Crash in the eyes, making him feel guilty. "That is the 3rd time this week! You rubbish piece of-". You don't want to remember the words. "I'm leaving," you said, grabbing your backpack and storming out of the apartment. You would come back later after a nice coffee to calm down.

Crash's POV:
*door slams.* You stood there, staring at the door. It only takes a few seconds before you bawl your eyes out. You couldn't be trusted. Every time you screw up. Again and again. And Culture has noticed that you are worthless. He left. By the time you get up the stairs he would've found himself a new apartment and would probably come back the next day to grab his stuff, and leave. For good.

In your bedroom you found a shaving stick took out the razor. You flumped into the bathroom and rolled up your sleeve. You decided that wasn't satisfactory and took off your jumper altogether. You stared at the razor for a solid 10 seconds and out of nowhere, created 5 deep cuts on your arm in a flash.

After 15 minutes, your entire torso was sliced into little pieces. There were words of self shame all over your arms, and you had devided your stomach into different irregular shapes, like a weirdly cut cake. The pain felt deserved, right, correct. The way your dumb self should be at all times. In pain.

You realized what you had done.

2 years clean, and there you were, bleeding all over the bathroom floor; you had screwed up yet again. 'I'm a failure,' you thought to yourself.

You remembered from last week when a classmate had told you to end yourself. You had pushed it out of your head, knowing that if you contemplated it you would believe him. But now, it was the only thing you could think about.

Yes. He was right. You should end yourself. Everyone would be happy. Your classmates, teachers, parents, bosses, colleagues; and Culture. Most importantly, Culture.

If that would make them happy, you would be happy.

You took the extra pistol from the gun cabinet and went up into the attic. You didn't want the stench of your worthless body annoying everyone else. So you also took up a load of perfume, that you would break onto the floor just before pulling the trigger.

You were about to do what was good for everyone.