YouTube One-Shots

Scars - Crinx

How do I explain it? The tension between your shoulderblades, the clamor of voices that no one else can hear, the rage that slams your fists into walls and humans, the scream that claws it's way up your throat and escapes when you slam your head against the wall until your vision blurs, the way your hands shake when you break open a razor for the first time, the fascination as blood runs down your fingers.

It's called mania. And it's what's lead me to be here, now, with someone else's blood splattered across my hoodie and jeans. I ran a trembling hand over my mask, reveling in the cracks on the smooth porcelain-like substance.

"So," I laughed breathlessly to no one in particular. "Is this what it's come to?"

There was no response. Typical.

"Well?" I screamed, flinging my hand out in a wide arc. "I did it, I killed them, I killed them all! Am I weak now, you sick bitch?!"

Voices whispered from the corners, laughing, taunting, screaming. My gaze landed on a pair of blank gray-blue eyes. My breathing quickened.

"Shut up!" I screamed, slamming my foot into the corpse's face. "Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP FELIX. GOD, YOU THINK I WANTED THIS?"

I screamed as my vision went blurry.

"YOU THINK I WANTED TO KILL YOU, YOU THINK I WANT TO DIE?"

I felt his skull give way under my heel, felt something warm and wet fly up and hit the exposed section of my face.

"RYAN!"

The ground was cold and hard under my back. I couldn't remember falling. I stared at the sky, my eyes tracing constellations. My fingers brushed across a sheet of notebook paper, folded on itself over and over. I knew what was in it. A soft sobbing came from my left. With what seemed like monumental effort, I turned my head to the side. A woman was crouching on the ground, her hands clamped over her mouth in horror.

"Don't worry, Minx," I rasped, unfolding the paper. "It'll all be over soon enough." The tiny strip of metal fell out onto my palm. I raised my hand towards the sky, my sleeve falling back to my elbow, exposing years of scars torn up and down the soft skin of my arm.

"Ryan," she choked out. "Ryan, please."

"I have to," I whispered. My fingers raised the blade, lining it up with the vein.

"Cry." Suddenly she was right on top of me, her fingers clutching my wrists, a fierce light in her eyes. Tears pricked the corners of my eyes.

"I didn't want this, Minx," I swallowed past the lump in my throat. "I have to. It's the only way."

"Says who?" she asked. Her warm brown eyes bore holes into mine, making me feel like a child again. My mouth went dry.

"Them," I whispered hoarsely. "The demons, the ghosts, the rulers. I have to do what they say."

"No," she leaned down, her nose brushing mine. "You don't."

"But-"

Her lips crashed against mine, her fingers gently pulling the blade from my hand.

"You don't," she reiterated, resting her forehead on mine. My body was alight with sparks.

"H-how would you know," I stammer. Her eyes flicker for a second. She leans back and pulls her shirt over her head.

The difference between our scars is obvious. Hers are healed, and lined up in neat rows along the side of her body, stretching from her hip to her armpit. Mine are rough, jagged, and frankly, most of them are still scabs.

My fingers reach out to brush them, and I can hear her take a sharp breath. I look up and see...fear.

I lean up, the remnants of my mask falling away.

"Minx," I whisper, pushing some of her hair behind her ear. Her eyes find mine.

"Cry."

I pull her into a fierce hug, tears streaming down my face.

"It's gonna be okay, Cry," she whispers in my ear. "It's gonna be okay."

And somehow, I believe her.

A/N: written at liek three AM
Also
I am
Alive
Somehow.
Maybe.
Sort of.
Nabi out.