[CW OneShot/Feedback] Physical Presence

[Rosesong]

There is silence, except for the sounds of the blade being released from its sheath with a metallic zing and frantic, labored breathing peppered with sobs. As the blade meets the soft flesh that lies on the inside of the arm, these sobs and heavy breathing turns into a hiss of pain, which fades into a sigh. "Sadness..." comes the quiet, breathy voice, seemingly a bit more steady. Memories race wild, dancing like wildfire. Arguments that had gone too far, loss of trust and hope, frantically trying to regain and repair friendships maimed and injured in the crossfire of things gone too far out of control. An audible sigh as these thoughts flit in and out, the pain seeping away as the blood bubbles up from the small incision, running down the arm free of its constraints.

More slices follow, each with its own attached emotion released in the bated breath of relief that follows. "Fury. Loneliness. Pain." With each word spoken, the voice grows stronger, taking back some of the character, color, and liveliness it normally rang vibrantly with. Remembrances fly by in a blur, each barely being touched upon before leaving. The ire of being misunderstood and called out for something unjustly. Gone. The isolation of upsetting those most dear and being unable to talk to them. Gone. The mind numbing, heart shattering realization that it could have been prevented or averted had another course been chosen. Gone. Each memory fades as more and more life leaks from the wounds given a physical presence on the body; cuts to show how the hardship had taken its effect and done its intended damage.

Tears reduce from a constant stream to a mere drip, finally drying to stiff, unused trails of feelings traveling away from the soul, exiled never to return. Unstable breathing eases back into a normal pace, steady with returning rhythm and strength. The blood drawn slows its frenzied fleeing, understanding that the agitated fog was now clearing from the mind. A trip to the bathroom is taken, washing away the presence of the hurt and feelings that had left the body in haste. There is a feeling of tranquility, of freedom that sets in as time passes. Each wound is cared for, ensuring that it won't be able to fester and repoison the mind. All of the hurt that has spilled from the self inflicted stupor is cleaned up and thrown away, never to return to affect the mind, body, or soul again. A sigh of relief is had, finally, at the close of the events that had taken place, while eyes search themselves desperately in the mirror. There is a readiness, an eagerness, desperate to take control of life again and not be crushed under the weight of the feelings that threaten to overwhelm and drown. Turning away, resolute in preventing them from taking over again, there is a sense of determination that I would not be the broken person that stared back in the mirror ever again.