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Regan stared at the clock on the wall, time slowly ticking away. It was now 1:40 and she hadn't moved an inch from where she was for breakfast. The tray she had eaten from laid barren on the table, little crumbs of her breakfast sprinkled here and there on its surface and her spoon beside the tray, remnants of the soup dried on its surface.
She unconsciously played with the ring on her finger, her thumb brus.h.i.+ng against the finely crafted surface of its ruby and index finger rubbing against its smooth ring as she watched the arms of the clock continue to tick. For six hours she had sat in the same spot having no idea what to do or how to feel and was ultimately numb. Nothing she did seemed to make her feel better and nothing she thought about seemed to calm her, she was drowning. Under layers of pain and the final layer of numbness, nothing could reach her. Just silence. The stifling hands silently hugged her and grinned at her as she struggled to get loose.
She looked at her left wrist and watched as red rolled down and fell onto her bed. The dot tiny at first, then seeping into the mattress and engulfing the s.p.a.ce around it in red and ending up with a circ.u.mference thrice it's first shape. Regan pressed her back into the wall and raised her hand up so she could watch the drips roll out of the deep cuts on her arm. Slowly she watched another drop roll out of the cut and down her arm, falling on the fork on her bed and rolling down its metallic surface, then poked the four slashes on her wrist and resisted the urge to laugh when it bit back with a sharp throb. It was funny really how the cold fork fit so perfectly in her hand and pierced her skin so nicely. It was the only thing that seemed to "fit" in her scrambled, numb mind.
Regan reached for the fork again and raised it to her smooth skin. Just..another cut...another cut and I'll feel. Another cut and everything will end. Another cut and maybe I will think again… She coaxed herself, as she pressed the fork's sharp tip to her skin, Just one more slash…
KNOCK KNOCK
"I'm coming in," Vixen's voice called out, cutting into Regan's thoughts.
Regan froze mid-cut, the fork still pressed against her skin and turned towards the door, as Vixen walked in.
"It's time fo-" Vixen grinned, his smile darkening when he noticed Regan's pose. He walked in and placed a box on the table then turned to Regan, "put the box down."
Regan locked eyes with him, her pupils shaking when she saw the sheer anger in his voice and how dark his violet eyes were. Her hands trembled but she hesitated to put the fork down, she was still under the cold calling of its power of relief through pain. She turned back to the fork, pausing momentarily before continuing to apply pressure.
"I- can't stop.. There's nothing.. Nothing else I can do… but feel pain," Regan muttered in reply, her eyes dark and empty, "it's the only solid thing I can rely on now. This fork, and the pain it gives me."
Vixen gritted his teeth, "I SAID, PUT THE FORK DOWN!!!"
Regan trembled, his words stabbing through the layers that were buried under, "NO!! I CAN'T THIS IS THE ONLY THING I HAVE LEFT!!!" hot tears ran down her face, and she turned to Vixen in a fit of tears as she struggled to hold up the fork, "IF I DON'T DO THIS, WHAT WILL I HAVE LEFT?! I'M BETTER OFF DEAD, BUT CAN'T KILL MYSELF."
Regan's hand trembled violently and the fork bit into her flesh, "LET ME HURT MYSELF!! I DESERVE THIS! LET ME DIE PLEASE!! WHY DO I HAVE TO LIVE? WHY CAN'T I JUST DIE?!"
Vixen ran to Regan, grabbing her hand that gripped the fork harshly and yanking it away from the hand it was stabbing, "STOP IT! SHUT UP AND PUT THE FORK DOWN NO ONE DESERVES DEATH!"