Marionette (Part 1)

At first, it had been a fuzzy, dark feeling against her vision, like the feeling after a dream.

She had paid it no mind at all; it had been only a slight annoyance.

It was almost unnoticeable – it didn’t interfere with her school life or I.N.K, so therefore, it didn’t matter.

Actually, to her, not a lot mattered.

After a week or so, she began to feel lethargic. And with that, came the crushing feeling of…of…she couldn’t explain it, but it was there, almost like it was leeching off her.

It gave her shudders just thinking about it.

So she didn’t, and a constant don’t think about it just move forward don’t worry about it’s not happening it’s not happening entered her head.

Keeping it inside was a necessity – if anyone, anyone at all knew, it would start again.

The teasing.

‘Zero the weirdo, Zero the freak!’

It was like a mantra.

If you don’t tell it’ll be fine you can handle it’s no problem it’s not happening it’s not happening

And the darkness began to choke her.

And what came with the darkness, was loneliness.

The crushing, agonising feeling of being trapped – alone, Abandoned.

She couldn’t even scream.

Each day was harsher than the last, the darkness eating away at every piece of light was unfeeling, unrelenting.

She began to distance herself, as she could not face the consequences of others knowing that she was weak.

Vin had tried, he had said – ‘Please, Zero…Tell me what’s wrong. I’m here for you just let me help you!’

But the part of herself that had already accepted the dark had shrieked and recoiled, and her outward self had done the same, although in a different way.

go away go away go away go away leave me alone don’t go no go away leave me be help me help m—

Breathe, breathe, Zero.

It’s in the shower, in the freezing cold when a decision is made.

The gleam of the razor stands out against the bright white of the bathroom. The monster inside of her bays for her blood, her punishment.

weak girl weak what were you thinking don’t run away girl there’s nothing you can do cut cut cut DO IT GIRL, DO I—

With a quiet cry of terror, she hurls the small instrument away from herself, back into the corner of the bathroom.

She stays there, for God knows how long, until she stops screaming at herself and whimpering long enough to stand.