McPriceley Oneshots

Period (Angst)

So like... this is different from my normal oneshots? Cause it's angst? Um so yeah. Sorta based off of my life but not? This is like all a question oof okay just read and you'll see.

TW: Self harm, death

Connor's POV

Drip... drip... drip.

I close my eyes and tighten my hands around the smooth white porcelain edges of the sink. I bite my tongue harshly, squeezing my eyes tight. I open them, staring at my reflection in the mirror. Take in the blood shot eyes and dark circles under my eyes. The paleness of my skin stretching and practically matching the clean colors of my missionary shirt. The hollowness that haunts my pupils.

"Get a hold of yourself," I hiss at myself, lifting one hand to rake it through my messy red hair. My other grips the sink, knuckles paling as I squeeze it harder. "Turn it off."

Who knew that my own tool would turn against me? Who knew that I would be the one being turned off? Being drained?

"Elder McKinley?" A voice asks, matching the uneven rapping on the bathroom door. I frantically shoot my eyes towards the vibrating door, fear practically striking through me. "Are you alright?"

"I'm okay!" I say back quickly, stuffing the razor into the neatly divided medicine cabinet. "Just... taking a moment!"

"Gotcha!" The voice replies cheerily, and I sink to the floor at the sound of the receding footsteps. Cheerily.

"What is wrong with me?" I scoff, scuffing my foot on the tiled floor as I lean my head against the wall. Welcoming the cold slithering down my neck and spine. "Why?"

I sit there for a minute, eyes closed and berating myself endlessly. I deserve it. 

"Elder McKinley!" Another voice says, knocking on the door. This elder knocks heavier than the last, and unfortunately I recognize the voice. I'd recognize that voice from the pits of Hell.

I do recognize that voice in Hell. Every night.

"Elder McKinley." Elder Price repeats, knocking again. "This is the only bathroom. Please, let one of us have a turn!"

"I'm on my period!" I say frantically before pushing my head into my knees and hitting my shin, staining my pants. My period?

Silence.

"Are you okay?" Elder Price asks, quieter than before. His voice is smooth, almost as if he swallowed molasses this morning. ??????

"I'm fine," I say back sharply. Unfortunately, the harsh edge in my tone doesn't quite hit right because of the fact that my tone is two octaves higher than it normally is.

"You're not," Elder Price says back, his voice whispery. I don't reply, digging my thumbnail into my bare and exposed ankle. I can't stop him when he twists the doorknob carefully and opens the door, closing it carefully behind him before his eyes travel downwards to the pile of trash that is me on the floor.

"Don't come in," I say weakly and far too late.

"Elder McKinley," Elder Price says softly, taking in the shaky bleeding lines etched in a sickly pattern only I can identify. I look up at him, my hollowed eyes devoid of the emotion this situation should require. He must be able to see that, as he takes my hands softly. The twisted part of me acknowledges this by growing excited, the elder holding my hand. Instead he begins to dab at my cuts and my hellish thoughts are erased by pain. I gasp in agony and Elder Price furrows her brow.

"Why?" He murmurs.

"Why not?" I ask, and he raises his gaze to mine as he realizes I'm not joking. "A mess up like me deserves this."

"No," he says shakily. Elder Price, unable to keep a steady voice. Today is a glitch. "You don't."

I stay quiet, tears pricking at my eyes painfully. Elder Price continues to wrap my wrists in towels before helping me up and wiping the floor. I wasn't aware of the mess I'd made. I never am until it's too late.

"Never again, alright?" Elder Price says, cupping his hands around my left wrist and staring deeply into my eyes. 

Like a liar, like a sinner, like a disgrace, I answer. "Alright."

~~~*Time skip*~~~

I sit on the couch, picking at the paper towels that I changed from yesterdays. Those had been red and angry, yet a painting of fury. It had been almost beautiful. I almost didn't throw it out.

But now I have clean white towels, to match my pasty skin and my uniform shirt. White like conformity. White like a reminder of what I'm supposed to be. 

Unlike the scarlet and ebony of my dreams last night.

"Elder McKinley," Elder Price says, entering the room and smiling gently at me. His gaze quickly drops to my wrists and back to my face, clearly happy that there weren't any fresh cuts. "How are you?"

"Good," I say, smiling at him as strongly as I can muster. He sits next to me on the couch, yet not as far as he could have sat. I look over at him, the broken part of me wondering if... if... if...

His smile only seems to grow, to stretch, to comfort. He only seems to send even more happiness to me, to replace my cuts with birthmarks and my sadness with happiness. 

It only seems...

But... I can't catch the only. I lean forwards and press my lips against his, feeling the unfamiliar scratch of stubble against my lower lip. I want to press closer, but Elder Price pulls away, horrified. Leapt to his feet, he stares at me from standing. His brown eyes are filled with disgust, his mouth twisted into repulsion. I cower beneath him, just like every night. 

I wait for him to say anything... anything at all.

But he takes the even harder way. He stalks out of the room and up the stairs, echoing the familiar slam of a bedroom door. My hand feels my lips in shock, horrified with myself. 

The horror gives into numbness as I tramp the familiar steps to the bathroom. Locking the door behind me this time, nodding once I hear the click as it slides into place. I pull the clean white paper towels off of my wrists and prop them against the sink before scrounging around the medicine cabinet for what I'm looking for. Feeling the cool metal against my soft fingertips, I pull it out and sit it beside me. Carefully scrawling a sentence onto the paper towels, and picking up the razor for the last time.

Drip... drip... drip...

Elder Price never heard the words "I deserved it" the same way. 

First time writing angst...

True story as in I've had a friend say they liked me but I didn't like them back. Don't worry we're both fine. She didn't kiss me and didn't cut or attempt anything- I just. Yeah. Wanted to write something sad for once.

How did it turn out?

Requests!

Love you guys!

-Em