Claimers: I own them. Thank you.
Title: Veruca Salt own the line from "Wet Suit" on the album "Resolver".
Dedications: To Pebblin and Miss X, aka God. You two will appreciate this part.
 
 
I'll never be torn from you.
Try to keep it together.
You try, to keep it together.
 
Keep us together.
 
 
Discord's POV
 
LaOC XLVII - Try To Keep It Together
 
My hands grab the bars as I listen to her walking away.
My head rests against the metal.
 
This is it.
The end.
 
I've lost everything.
Everything that matters anyway.
 
What else did you think she'd do, Dis?
Give you a big hug and tell you you're forgiven?
Wake up!
She hates you.
Might have said she didn't but... how could she feel anything else?
 
I kick my food tray across my cell.
 
I listen to the silence in the cells.
It starts to make me panic and I don't know why.
I don't get what's happening to me.
I don't understand why I did what I did.
I couldn't stop myself.
Not that it felt like me doing it, anyway.
 
I make my way back over to the bed and lie down.
 
I'm like... this bad thing that no-one wants anything to do with.
I had it all and I ruined it.
Like jumping in a puddle with new shoes on.
I made everything dirty.
 
My mind gets flashes of what happened.
Me hurting Elle, then Mich, Gab, Jude, David... the list is endless.
 
Elle hates me.
Mich hates me.
Jude hates me.
Kreousa and the other Amazons want to kill me.
And you know what's funny?
I wouldn't stop them.
I'd let them do it.
 
I look down at my hands, turning them over.
They're shaking and I can't stop them.
 
I close my eyes and make a wish.
I wish for someone to come and help me end it all.
But I doubt anyone will.
And then it hits me.
 
I need to stop relying on other people.
 
The same fog as before starts making it hard to think.
It begins to float around me, like when I hurt Elle.
I shake my head, but I can't get rid of it.
 
My thoughts begin to go weird again.
 
My body sits up, and then stands.
It's like I can't control what I'm doing.
 
But then maybe this is what I want to do, just I don't know properly.
 
 
I tear a piece of my shirt off, and jam it inside the lock of the door.
 
 
A picture of me slamming Elle against the wall drifts through the mist.
 
 
My hands go to my belt, undoing it.
 
 
A picture of me punching Mich in the face.
 
 
I do it up, on the highest metal separator bar in my cell.
 
 
A picture of me rolling out of the way, and Elle bolting Mich.
 
 
I twist it around and move the chair underneath it.
 
 
A picture of the white walls covered in blood.
 
 
I stand on the chair and put the loop round my neck.
 
 
A picture of Elle saving Mich and falling back on the floor.
 
 
I tighten the buckle up so the leather's tight.
 
 
I take a deep breath.
 
 
The fog rolls in my head some more, and I try and think if this is what I really want?
 
'But. I'm not sure I trust you anymore.'
'But. I'm not sure I trust you anymore.'
'But. I'm not sure I trust you anymore.'
 
It's what everyone else wants.
 
I hurt Elle.
I did that, me.
And there's no getting round it.
 
I feel a tear roll down my cheek.
Just the one.
For what I did.
For everyone I hurt.
 
I'll stop me from hurting anyone else.
The mist in my head makes my eyes drift shut.
 
 
 
Then I kick the chair out from under me.