Title: Kizu Mo [The Cut]
By: Karasu Kizu (( sephxcloud@yahoo.com ))
Rating: ?? I don't really have a rating system set... use your judgement
Content: dark, SI/cutting, near suicide attempt, Sephiroth's POV,
shonen-ai/startings of yaoi
Disclaimers apply
Notes: This is dark. My maso-sadist side started kicking in today and has
taken hold, once again, of my writing. Also, I was listening to "Crawling"
but Linkin Park just before this and then put on the Papa Roach cd...
hehe... wonderful music, hmm? ^_~
August 8, 2001
((typed on wordpad w/o spell check... only reread once for obvious errors))
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
"...Why do you cut?"
"...I... because I like it... I... it makes me feel alive. It escapes the
emotions, if only for a moment. And... I've begun this longing for blood..."
"..."
= yes, this is a real conversation ((this is just a quote for the beginning
of the story))=
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
The blade's sharp, I've prepared it. Will you take it again? I
wondered as I lay the small knife back into the drawer. I see you creep by
so often and enter the kitchen, taking the best knife out... I see the
false expression you wear daily. Why must you wear a mask? That's unfair
for you, you're too young... No, wait... no one's ever too young. You act
more mature than even the men at my level.
You're an equal. I wonder... if I said that, would it help you?
I'm such a coward. All I can do is clean this knife after you use
it and hope that you'll take the hint to look at me with a question... but
you don't. And I'm too fearful to speak to you.
You... you don't wound yourself too badly... do you?
God, I'm such a weakling! Why... why can't I reach out and stop
you?! Why am I hiding? Weakling, selfish bastard... I'm staying quiet to
try and protect myself. Ha. Yes, I'm as bad as them... What would you think
to know that? I hear I'm your role-model; how can I deserve that position?
You are... so much better than I am.
As everything in my life, I'll only acknowledge my mistakes when
it's too late. Will that mean that I will have to find you one day - dead
with cooling blood pooled beside you? Is that the only time my mind will
kick me in the ass and tell me to go to you? But... too late... that's too
late...
God, what can I do? What can I fucking do? Why do you take this
path? I'm just as affected with depression as you are! But I... I don't
cut... why do you have to...? I can't understand that, not really. Are you
masochitic? You must be, I can't see how you can be a cutter otherwise. I
can't fully comprehend what you get from it - I've read articles and books
about it, from people who've done it, trying to understand...
But I can't. Why...? Why do you do this? Is blood so tempting? As
warriors we are only to be lusting for our enemy's blood! But to wish for
blood of your own...? That means you lose! Do you want to lose? Do you just
want to admit de-
...That's it. Isn't it.
Enemy... you are your own enemy... aren't you. Tha- that's why you
want your blood...? To see your enemy die...? But you die with it...
I don't know what to do... how to help... how can I- how can I
stop someone from doing what they wish to...?
Dear Lord help me!
Ha! Help me?! Me?! It's not me who needs the help and support! You
are, you need it! I can't figure out what to do! God, I just wish I knew
what to do!! How...
I'm too weak for you... I don't deserve your high praise and the
pedistol you've set me on. Knock me off, please. I've already broken, so
why do I remain here?
=====
A knock at the door interuppted my thoughts and I sat up on the
bed. "Come in..."
Slowly, hesitantly, the door was pushed in. I was surprised to see
the subject of my thoughts enter the room, head down slightly. He closed
the door and turned the lock. He still refused to look up at me. He shifted
his weight and with the small moment I caught a glimpse of the blade.
I swallowed, face paling.
"I need you to do one thing..." How had his voice become so
hoarse? So vulnerable?
He glanced up, his face looking desperate and fearful, yet somehow
there was an overbearing appearence of calm. I felt sick with that look,
there was something horrible he wanted, I could feel it. God, his pain was
so obvious...
"What is it?" God damned fucking bastard! Still fucking stoic at a
time like this? Show some worry, idiot!!
Trembling, he walked forward, almost stumbling. He knelt down at
the edge of the bed, head bowed. The hand with the knife in it raised a
bit. "I... sir, I..."
"No formalities, what is it...?" My heartbeat was rushing.
Ohmigodwhat'shappening?!
Suddenly he whipped his head up, determination burning in his eyes
as he stared at me, tight-lipped. "P-please... I want only one thing...
ca-may..." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he spoke again,
his voice just barely reached me. "Let me kiss you...? Please... just...
one last wish..."
I was staring, heart completely stopped while nausea rose up in
me. Oh mother-fucker, what the bloody hell had I let go on...? No... Oh
God... why didn't I... earlier...? My thoughts faded into blurs of
horrified emotions and as he rose to his knees and I moved my face closer
to his. I felt the tears - the first I had ever cried - trailing down my
cheek. He was so nervous as he leaned in, capturing my lips so faintly, so
quickly.
As the tears flowed, I found some courage that had eluded me for
so long. I wrapped my arms tightly about him as he began to pull back and
kissed him harder, tears flowing faster. The knife in his hand had its edge
pressing slightly into my thigh, but I ignored it. I just couldn't let
him... leave...
I moved back briefly. As I stared at his slightly confused gaze, I
felt my masks falling about me and knew my pain was written on my face. I
touched his cheeks, stained with a few tears of his own. "Don't..." I
whispered. "Dear God, don't!! I..."
I could not find the words. Even now I doubt I would find them.
What words can actually tell someone to stop? It's not the words... not at
all. It's the emotion - it's the feeling the other recieves. It's the love;
it's the caring, not the words.
He stared at me longer and I saw his facial muscles tighten as his
eyes filled with tears. He looked away, down at the knife clutched in hand.
A cry. A small, hurt, hoarse, rough cry broke through the air -
his hurt in sound. He dropped the weapon and curled up, body shaking with
thick, mournful sobs.
Finally the courage was touching me... finally... and not too
late.... Not too late.
I slid off the bed, kneeling beside him and wrapping my arms about
him and laid my cheek on the back of his shoulder. My eyes closed and face
amazingly calm, a few tears continued their journey along my cheeks.
Without knowing why, my lips parted and in a hoarse, broken tone I managed
to sing softly:
"Hush-a-by, don't you cry, go to sleep my little baby, when you
wake, you shall have all the pretty little horses... blacks and bays,
dapples and greys, all the pretty little horses... hush-a-by, don't you
cry, go to sleep my little baby..."
Over and over... the childhood song made its way past my lips and
repeated itself many times over as I knelt there with him, rocking him
gently and building up courage in myself to help him. It wasn't over,
nothing was over that quickly, and I knew... I knew I had to do
something... I just couldn't let him vanish from the story so early on...
"Stay with me..." I murmured softly once his sobs had quieted. He
moved into my arms, then, hugging me close as we continued to rock. I began
to hum the song, the words slipping away...
I'm sorry I didn't try to stop you earlier... what if you hadn't
come to me tonight for your wish? Would there have been reports of your
dead body? It chills me to think so. Don't keep to yourself. Please...
please just talk to me... let me... help... in any way I can...
I looked up at the ceiling, staring at the blank white expanse. I
think I might love you... I thought, realizing the feeling beneath all the
horror and pain, I really think I might...
I'm not letting you go.
I placed a gentle kiss to the side of his forehead.
Please, don't let me ever let you go.
~~~Owari~~~
Author's Notes: I tortured characters again. -_- Gomen nasai, minna, but
it's what I really... "enjoy" writing. And yeah, I can be a sadist. I'm
more maso, but ya never know ::shrugs::
((THE)) Karasu: ::smirks:: finally you're writing some good material
-_- geez, you're such a dark-loving muse..... ::glomps:: that's why I love you~!!! XD
((the)) Karasu: O____o;; Woman, get off me!!! ::blasts Kara with bomb::
o_____O;; ::with singed hair:: Um....... ;;U_U
Onto more relevant/serious notes ;;-_-
1) I don't know why, but "All the Pretty Little Horses" always gets me as
vaguely morbid... incredibly angsty... I remember playing it on the piano
once and crying ((I guess it was after a friend's death ::shrugs:: )), and
I've used the song in a rather depressing part of "Misplaced Childhood" -
my GW fic focusing on the young OZ members.
2) If you couldn't tell ((and I don't know if you could or not)), this was
taking place pre-game. Later first or early second year that Cloud went to
Shinra to join SOLDIER. Now if you think Sephiroth was OOC, please keep in
mind that he hardly did much speaking aloud - most of the words are his own
thoughts. I dun know about you, but I think way differently than I act or
speak - I figure this can apply to other characters.
3) To answer a possibly curiousity question: yeah, this is vaguely related
to some real life events. However, know me a bit better and you'll be
certain that I have never managed anyone to stop their SI. Nor has anyone
ever stopped me... permenantly... Anyhow, it was just a mixture of
thoughts. Sometimes it really helps to get into the other person's head, as
I did here. ::makes note to keep this in mind later:: -__- I can be so
fucking ignorant at times... ;;^^V
4) wha? There is no number four!! >.<