Playing With Knives- LoZ

scene 10- hurting

A/N: Warning! Self-harm at the beginning of this chapter and the next. If you want to avoid it, just skip the first segment and start reading after the first set of dots. You have been warned!

He toyed with the knife, pricking his finger accidentally-on-purpose. He didn't mind, though. It actually felt kind of nice. As if the pain made him wake up a little. He had only gotten as far as drawing a bit of blood from his fingers, but he'd get there eventually. He dreaded it, but looked forward to it at the same time.

This satisfying secret activity was something he would look forward too. He had started doing it recently. Recently as in a couple days ago. A couple days ago as in right before he came here and was introduced to the others.

He pricked each finger before wiping the knife off and putting it away. Baby steps. One bit at a time. Just pricks for now.

●●●

"Wild, Wild! Oh, there you are."
Twilight spotted him sitting on a log, examining his left hand. He looked up and quickly wiped his hand on his pants.
"We're going to leave soon. Let's go back to the others."
Wild nodded, standing up. He followed Twilight, the knife still on his mind.

●●●

"Hey, why's there blood on the back of your leg?"
Wild looked back to where Wind was pointing and saw smeared red on his pant leg, right where he had wiped his hand.
"Oh that's from... I don't actually know."
Wind tilted his head, then shrugged and looked forward again.

Wild was grateful that he had believed him so easily. The others probably wouldn't.

He walked up to the front of the group to be next to Twilight. He felt safer near him. Twilight looked at him and noticed the same thing Wind had.
"What's that?"
He pointed to the stain on his leg.
"Oh, that? I have no idea how that got there."
"Really?"
"Yup. I don't know. No idea."
"Okay, if you're sure."

Twilight didn't quite believe him, but he could have been imagining the nervous look on Wild's face.

●●●

They reached a clearing, so they set up camp. It was near a small lake, so Wind decided he wanted to swim.

He ran for the water and jumped in, still fully clothed. Twilight, however, brought a fishing rod over and started fishing. Wild walked over and looked at the two, looking at them like they were crazy.
"What the hell is that?"
He pointed at the fishing rod.
"What do you mean? It's a fishing rod. You use it to catch fish."
"Really? How does it work?"
"You wait for a fish to grab onto the hook at the end. I can't believe you've never seen a fishing rod. Don't you like to fish?"
"Yeah, but not like that. My way doesn't really involve that much waiting."
"Can I see?"
"Sure."

Wild took his clothes off, ending up only wearing his underwear. He dove into the water and swam around. Something caught his eye, and he swam over to it. He went underwater, and a few seconds later, he came out with a fish in his hands. Wind, who had been watching along with Twilight, was wide-eyed.
"Wow, that's pretty cool. Can you teach me how to do it?"
"Sure. You kind of just grab a fish. It's not that hard."
Wind nodded and went off to find a fish.

Twilight looked at Wild and said,
"I agree with him. That was pretty cool. How long have you been fishing like that?"
"Since I- I'm not sure, actually."
"Huh. Well-" Twilight was interrupted by a pull on his fishing rod, and he concentrated on that instead of continuing his statement.

Wild walked onto dry land and put the fish in a bucket that Twilight had brought. One of the others, Legend, walked over to him.
"I noticed those scars. That's pretty cool. How'd you get them?"
"Yeah, like that one."
Wild looked to the side and saw Wind, who was pointing at the largest scar. It was thick and long, running all the way from his right shoulder down to the left side of his waist. He looked down at his torso and saw the multitude of scars. It scared him. He had to cover them up, so he wouldn't have to look at them any longer, and so that nobody else would see them and think he was a failure.

"Uh, I have something really cool that I wear in the the water, do you want to see it?"
"Don't change the subject! Tell us about the scar."
Wild didn't reply to Wind's plea, instead running over to his bag and digging through it. He pulled out his Zora armor and quickly put it on.
He turned to the others and walked back over. They gave him weird looks, but they said nothing.
"This is my Zora armor. It helps me swim faster and swim up waterfalls."
"That's... interesting," Legend commented. He continued with a blunt statement, "Why won't you talk about the scars?"
"I, uh, don't like talking about them. Bad memories, you know?"
Legend nodded. "Yeah. I understand."

Wild went back into the water, swimming quickly. He went far away from the others. They wouldn't mind if he swum alone. Hopefully. They'd probably take offense to his sudden departure, bit he didn't care at the moment. The only thing on his mind were the scars. He could bear to look at them. They were disgusting and ugly. They must think that he was terrible at fighting now, after seeing that. His journey had scarred him both physically and mentally. The mention of something that reminded him of someone or something cause him to break down.

And earlier, when Wind was falling a those questions... Goddesses, he didn't he didn't even want to think about that. That was the worst.

Why was this happening? Sure, maybe he was messed up because of what had happened to him, but why? Why did it do this to him? Why did it even have to happen in the first place?

He was resentful. Resentful of that prophecy told to the king, resentful if the death of Zelda's mother, resentful of the Sheikah. He didn't hate them, no, but they caused all of this. Not on purpose, but they did cause a huge and terrible accident.

He always felt like he was dying again. But then, wasn't everyone? What was the difference between living and dying? It didn't really matter what the difference was. He was dying nonetheless. Emotionally dying. Physically dying. It felt like he was always drowning in his own thoughts and self-hatred. How ironic, considering he was swimming right then.

But why swim? He knew it was an odd question. It was a bit of a metaphor. Why bother living if you're just going to die eventually? Everyone said that death is peaceful. Life sure isn't peaceful. So that must mean that death is better than life. So why did he keep trying to tread water? Why not let yourself sink? Why not kill yourself?

How did being upset about scars get to suicide? Oh well. That just showed how messed up his mind had become. Just another reason to do it.