One Of Two Minds (TF2 story)

Chapter 18. Cutting deep.

*WARNING! THIS CHAPTER INCLUDES SELF HARM AND SELF DEPRECIATION!!*

"Do it."

"You know you want to."

"DO IT!"

Blade in hand, he holds it over himself.

"You know you deserve it."

Once... Twice... Thrice more.

Cut after cut,

Tear after tear,

He fails to stop.

Wanna know a secret?

He doesn't want to stop.

That night, Heavy walks to the lab. Medic failed to join them to dinner and Heavy needed to know why. He walked to the lab. A feeling of unease made its way into his stomach. With each step, it worsened. What was happening. When he got to the doors he didn't knock. He knew, somehow, he wouldn't get an answer.

He slowly, quietly, walked into to lab. Medic was sitting in his rolling desk chair, but it was no where near the desk. It was in the middle of the room, and the doctor's back as to Heavy. His arms were at his sides. There was a rhythmic sound of some thing dripping. Heavy thought it was water from a tap at first.

Until he saw the puddle of blood at the base of the chair. There were cuts on his arms. He did not wear his coat. His sleeves were rolled up to the elbows. And to the elbows down to his wrists, the German doctor's arms were riddled with cuts. Deep, dark red cuts. Blood pooled out of them like waterfalls. There was so much blood you could hardly see the colour of his skin.

Heavy stood there for a moment, eyes wide in surprise. He almost couldn't believe what he was looking at. His friends breathing was haggard. Short and sharp. His shoulders shook every now and then. Heavy slowly walked over, not saying a word. Medic took one final sharp breath in before stopping. He must've heard the footsteps.

His head lolled on his shoulder as he looked at Heavy approaching. "M-Misha," he said, barely audible. It came out as a whimper. There was a pained, sad, desperate expression on his face. It broke Misha's heart. "Ludwig," Misha said. Ludwig looked away. "I-It hurts.." "I know," Misha said.  Misha walked over to a cabinet and pulled out some bandages. He got a rag and turned then sink on.

Misha wet the rag and walked over to Ludwig. He crouched down, careful not to sit in the blood. He took the rag and began to wipe away the blood, surprisingly gentle. Ludwig bit his lip, trying to not move. It stung. It hurt. Usually, he liked pain. But this was too much. It was too much for him. But that's what he wanted. He didn't want to enjoy it. Then it wouldn't be a punishment, right?

Once Misha cleaned his right arm, he carefully put bandages on it. Then, he moves to the left arm and does the same procedure. Finally, he's done. He slowly pushes the chair out of the way and sets the now red rag in the sink. He gets another and wipes up the blood on the floor. Ludwig watches him, silently crying. He hated that he cried so much. His father always said crying made you weak. If he was here, he would've beaten Ludwig for crying.