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yennasun · 1 year

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Drabble #6, vicious cycle

Trigger warning, depiction of self harm, self loathing, suicidal thoughts, blood etc. If you don't like this I suggest you move on.

It'd been 3 weeks.

3 weeks since he'd moved in with the color gang after being..."rescued" from his creator.

"I went back for a reason God dammit!" He remembered slurring out hopelessly.

Their rescue had done more harm than good in his eyes, because they didn't understand how he functioned...

The training, the fighting, but most importantly; the pain, had take his mind of of all his mistakes and fuck ups.

It's not like he even enjoyed fighting, far from it in fact but it was all he had, all he knew.

And now it was gone, his creator refused to have his back, telling him he was "damaged goods."

He tossed and turned in bed, unable to sleep ever since he came back.

They all hated him, he was sure of it, positive in fact. He saw how the looked at him, how they whispered to eachother when they thought he wasn't around and the worst part was that he deserved it. Every, single, bit of it.

Which is why purple and orange's "rescue" stung him worse than any whip or blade his creator could introduce upon his skin.

Hate hate hate, they HATE you...

They pity you

They'll realize how HOPELESS you are

You're a DESTROYER, incapable of love or compassion and you'll be treated as such

Suffer for all the pain you've brought

End it...

End it!

He sat up in his bed, holding his gun as cold silence overtook him.

It'd be so easy...

He took out 5 of the 6 bullets and spun it to the loaded chamber.

Let it all go...

But right as he was about to face nothingness, they heard something strange.

"Man...go...?"

A shocked and heartbroken, yet still familiar voice echoed in his head ethereally.

Just as he'd processed that, a shocking image appeared in his mind...

It was purple, and they were cradling MTs lifeless body as blood spilled under his head and onto purples hands.

Their hands held MTs head close as one was pressed against a bleeding hole through the top of his head, their eyes held a scarred expression that said they'd consider the same sooner or later...

LIES

The image blew away as though it were a mirage, but the damage had already been done...he lost his nerve.

Pathetic!

Then a new idea came to him, it wasn't as sweet as the last but it'd have a similar effect.

Pain...you love pain

He really did, he didn't want their pity or their condolences, he wanted nothing but hate and pain. pure and simple.

He decided against making a mess of their carpet and gathered some...tools, before sneaking towards the front door.

Thankfully it went smoothly, no one was around and he slicked away in the dead of night.

He'd brought a few things; a dagger, some high-heat irons, healing potions and a chain with 3 razor-sharp fish hooks on the end.

He ventured into a small cave that was dull, cold and lonesome. Completely devoid of mobs and exactly what he was looking for.

He blocked off the entrance of the cave and placed a single torch on the wall in front of him as unseen speakers continued to reverberate through his head, encouraging him to punish himself in the most disturbing ways.

He nearly tore his shirt trying to pull it off in desperation, he pulled his dagger out and pressed it into his chest.

The sensation of the cold dagger entering skin forced a breath out of him but he wasn't finished, he then slid the dagger across his chest in a line going from one side to the other.

Blood had immediately began to spill from the wound.

He then took the dagger and slashed his face, leaving a cut near his eye.

He did the same to his stomach and sides, leaving no part of his midsection untouched.

He'd already began to go light headed from blood loss but he couldn't afford to be finished now as the voices weren't satisfied yet.

More more MORE

They screamed out like a guttural chorus.

Once he was done with the dagger he pulled the irons out and began heating them on the torch.

Once they were red hot, he pressed them on his arms, nearly screaming out at the agony shooting through him.

Deciding it was concealed enough to let it all out, the next time he pressed the irons against his arms he screamed all his pain and frustrations out and would continue to do so until he lost his voice and blood began to find its way to his tongue.

He continued to press the irons to his arms until he ran out of space completely, so he moved onto his shoulders and neck, covering them in horrifying burns as well.

Now for the part he was dreading the most, but also looking forward to the most.

Picking up the chain, he stared at it as his hand held it shakily.

He poked each fish hook in a straight formation at the bottom of his back, then he held the chain behind his head with both hands.

Taking a deep breath, he swung downwards as though swinging a hammer downwards, rasping out a pathetic scream at the sensation of his back being ripped open.

His arms went weak and he nearly threw up as he shivered from the sheer pain, but he picked the now blood-encrusted chain.

This time he poked them into his skin on the right side of his back, the clean and untouched side.

He held the chain over his left shoulder and this time, swung like he was swinging a baseball Bat and shredded the left and right sides of his back.

He whimpered weakly as his arms gave out and he found himself face first on the cold stone floor.

But despite all this, the voices wouldn't waver.

But he expected this, and came prepared.

Uncorking a healing potion, he was disgusted with himself at how desperately he subconsciously guzzled the potion down and with the subsequent feeling of relief.

He sat up and banged his head against the wall in frustration until he saw blood splatters next time he pulled his head back, and then repeated the whole process again.

Each slash from the dagger reminded him of all his past sins, each searing iron reminded him of his past and every swipe of the fish hooks across his back represented what he wanted above all else.

The ghastly spectators were quieting down, but hadn't subsided completely so he gulped another potion down and repeated it again.

By the end of his third run-around, the cave looked as though there'd been a massacre.

Blood had masked the floor and walls around him in a grim display of modern art, but despite all of this he felt...warm.

It was better than any high the pills could give him, he was in an almost dream-like state.

Everything seemed brighter and more saturated, he also found himself in a much better mood than when he came in.

He broke the entrance of the cave, but cursed slightly at the morning light that leaked in.

Have I really been here that long...?

He considered going back to color gangs house, but decided against it.

Meeting eyes with purple would almost certainly throw me back into the state I went through so much pain to get out of.

He decided to enjoy the temporary peace of mind.

Oh yeah, he'd go through hell to feel this way!

He was in a nearly ecstatic state, so happy he could cry, even if it was artificial happiness.

He touched everything he could, trees, leaves, animals, water and other things.

He didn't know why, he just wanted to.

He watched the running river nearby as the leaves and water itself had taken on a brighter, more defined color.

It was all a haze of pure joy, he nearly blacked out.

Following a few days of roaming around in a drug-like haze of peace and happiness, he'd made peace with the fact he'd have to go back and decided to start.

The closer he came to the color gangs house, the more his high had faded until his vision cleared and the world took on its usually dark, dull and grungy appearance.

Opening the door, he felt worse than ever before almost like he forgot the feeling entirely.

Despite this, he'd adopted his usual stern and reserved mannerisms.

Passing through the kitchen he made his way back to his room, making sure to stare green down as he always loved to strategically place himself in MT's way.

He sat down, loading the bullets back into his snub nose and putting it in the drawer of his nightstand.

He sat in silence and thought about the past few days.

"That was amazing..." he whispered breathlessly.

I'd love to tell myself I'll never do it again, however...

He cleaned his tools and put the out of sight, after he did a knock sounded on his door.

"Huh?" He said

The door came ajar and purple stepped in cautiously.

"Where the hell have you been?" They said in angered concern.

"Why do you care?" He passed a stern look to them.

"When people go missing, I tend to worry okay? Now where have you been?" They said, trying to apply pressure to him.

"None of your fucking business." He hardened his gaze.

"I think it is my business if-" they were cut off

"Get out." He pointed at the door behind them.

They threw their arms up and let out a grunt of disgust and frustration.

"We all know you have issues, but if you keep pushing us away you're gonna end up dead! Everyone chooses their enemies and for whatever reason you always choose us!" He pointed at him with a shaky hand.

MT refused to waver at the words and gesture.

"Get...out..." he repeated firmly

Purples head drooped down hopelessly.

"Whatever, can't say i didn't try..." they said quietly as their feet dragged under them while they left.

MTs feeling of worthlessness and inner anguish had tripled, it reminded him of purples face of hurt and betrayal during the...incident.

They should hate me...I don't know why they don't. I wish everyone could just forget about me, I don't want anymore obligations. I don't want to keep fighting.

He put his head in his hands as the voices came back with a vengeance.

He clenched his teeth as the jeers and taunts played in unison with flashes of every mistake he ever made.

The cycle was repeating itself.

---------------------------------------------------

I remember saying that I was going too far towards the hurt/comfort route and I partially blame yall for the prompts/j

I'd love to say there's some kind of message behind this admittedly fucked up drabble but I made this purely to torture MT more.

#alan becker #animation vs minecraft #avm #animator vs animation #avm king orange #ava #avm mt #au #avm mango #usfc #trigger warning #dont like dont read

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