Hamilton Oneshots

Texts (Hamburr)

I'm warning you, this entire chapter is a giant trigger warning.

I had a few things I wanted to get off of my chest.

Sorry this is depressing.

~~

   Aaron let out a choked sob, tossing the pocket knife away. He looked at the scratches he had given himself earlier, bleeding and almost to the point of showing bone. He had never gone that far, but his hand was so numb, he wanted the pain to get to him sooner. Now his arm throbbed, as well as his legs and stomach. The scratching was effective, but didn't start to hurt until much later. Scars already littered his hands, legs, and stomach from before. He numbly traced the scars, a dull pink on his dark skin. It was smooth, soft. The damn scars reflected in the light, making him nervous every time he went outside.

   Aaron shook silently, too tired to get up. He didn't want to die just yet, however, so he forced himself off of the floor. Aaron calmly grabbed a clean washcloth, running it under lukewarm water before ringing it out. He paused for a second, looking at the red blood drip onto the white porcelain sink. Aaron cried out in frustration, banging his 'good' hand on the sink, biting his lip harshly.

   "It shouldn't be this hard to clean this up! Why is it so tantalizing? God, why am I like this," he spat, slapping the cloth on his injured skin. The man immediately yelped, tears forming in his eyes from the pain. "Alexander will be so fucking disappointed in me. I promised him.." Aaron trailed off. "Why do I have to love him? It makes this so much harder than it has to be!"

He doesn't love you. Nobody does. You hide behind your smiles, never giving an opinion. That's why people call you immoral. You have morals. You never show them. You're weak, too scared to say how you feel about a tiny subject!

   Aaron bit his lip again, blood trickling down. He slumped down onto the floor, watching as the green cloth was stained by the dark red blood that it tried so hard to stop. Aaron gazed to his fingernails, red with blood, skin flakes littering the underside of his nails. It made him sick. He was sick. He wrinkled his nose as he finally registered the metallic smell of his blood.

You're selfish! You have amazing friends, even though they probably just pity you. You had the best parents, and yeah, being an orphan is hard, but look at Alexander! He doesn't cry himself to sleep because Mommy and Daddy died! Your job is fantastic, people would kill for your position, too. But no, Aaron has to feel so much hate for himself. So much hate for his terrible life! If you really are suffering, end it.

   "No," Aaron gasped out, clutching his head in his hands, tears cascading down his cheeks.

Why not? Too scared? I mean, you're too much of a pussy to cut, so you scratch.. I wouldn't be surprised!

   "I won't give up like this! I just need to.."

What? Wait for it? Pathetic.

   "I'm not pathetic!" Aaron cried out softly, sobs now escaping his lips.

Pathetic. Stupid. Worthless. Whore. Bastard. You let him hurt you. I bet you liked it. 

   Painful memories flooded Aaron's brain, making the man cry out for nothing. For no one. He just cried out. He was weak. 

You're the one thinking this, Aaron. You have no other voices in your head. It's just me. Yeah, me! Aaron Burr. Fucking kill yourself. You always listen to your gut, why not your mind?

   Aaron nodded slowly, getting up. He glanced at himself in the mirror. The bags under his eyes were prominent, scratches on his face taunting him. Aaron looked away quickly, hastily grabbing a half empty bottle of Advil and a full bottle of Ibuprofen. Aaron gulped audibly, opening both pill bottles. He carried them to the kitchen. The empty kitchen in his empty house where he had his empty nights while feeling empty inside.