<*You open the door to the garage, lingering in the doorway for a moment.*
<*You feel...dazed. Listless. You've been crying for...who knows how long now. At this point you can barely remember why you started. Something at school, probably.*
>*People aren't really subtle about what they think about you.*
<*Your legs take you into the garage and towards the tools. Mom won't be home for awhile.*
<*You're tired. You're so tired. You're so sick and *tired* of being...what you are.*
<*You find the saw and pick it up. You grab a tarp on the way out.*
<*Your wings feel heavy on your back.*
<*Your thoughts are foggy. You're almost operating on auto-pilot as you drag yourself back to your room.*
<*You...*
<*You have to do this.*
<*You spread out the tarp on your floor. It's huge. You don't even remember why you got it. Probably some project dad never got around to doing.*
<*Probably didn't get done because of you.*
<*You sit down on the tarp. You stare down at the saw.*
<*...*
<*You start crying again.*
<*You're tired of it. You're tired of everyone staring at you, thinking you're terrible, a freak, evil.*
<*You don't...*
<*Why won't they trust you?*
<*You do...you try to do everything right. You try so hard to be perfect. You dress nice, you do your hair right, you hide what you can. What else can you even do?*
<*This was...*
<*...*
<*This felt like the only option left.*
<*You bring the saw up to one of your wings. You struggle to find a good way to hold it, but...you're determined. You have to.*
<*You hesitate though. You hold the saw against your wing, staring at it and feeling the cold, sharp metal on its leathery skin.*
<*Leathery. Like a bats.*
<*Not...not pretty. Or fluffy. Or soft to the touch.*
<*Not perfect.*
<*...*
<*You start sawing.*
<*It doesn't even break the skin. It stings a little, but...you have to press harder.*
<*It hurts more this time. You hold your wing with your free arm. You try to ignore the blood.*
<*You keep going...*
<*...*
<*The pain is really bad this time. You bite your arm as you continue.*
<*You have to. You have--*
<"AGH!"
<*You bit down on your arm too hard, leaving a mark and the taste of blood in your mouth. Your wing flaps at the shock too, flinging the saw from your hand.*
<*You stare where it landed, near your desk. Everything feels frozen for a moment.*
<*You look at your wing.*
<*Oh god.*
<*There's so much blood.*
<*Your breathing quickens as you stare. Oh god. You can taste it.*
>*You're pulled out of staring at the wound by a loud CRASH! from near your desk, and you let out a startled noise. The saw must've knocked something loose, and it only just fell.*
<*...*
<*Your eyes drift back down to the wound.*
<*Your mind's a total blank. You can't bring yourself to look away. There's so much. Why is there so much? You think you hear...something, but you don't process what it is. You can barely even process the pain. It's dripping onto the tarp. You feel it on your arm. There's so much blood. There's so much there's so much there's--*
>"Azzy, are you--"
<*Your attention snaps to your door as it opens. You realize the sound you heard was your mom knocking.*
<*Oh god, what do you do?*
>"Azazel, what..." *She trails off as she looks around your room, probably trying to piece together what you were doing. Her gaze settles on the saw.*
>*...*
>*......*
<"...I-I..." *That's all you can get out before you begin crying again.*
>"Oh god...come here." *She joins you on the floor and pulls you into a hug.*
<*You start sobbing into her shoulder as you hug her back.*
<*You feel pathetic. Ashamed. God, you feel like a little kid. You're 14 now, and you're here crying in your mom's arms like a baby.*
<"I-I...I'm s-sorry..." *You barely manage to squeak out.*
>"Shh, it's ok...I promise I'm not mad, ok?"
>*She hugs you even tighter.*
<*...It is a little comforting, at least. Your sobbing gets less intense, if only a little.*
>*Your mom pulls away from the hug and tucks some of your hair behind your ear.* "I'll be right back, ok? I'm just gonna grab the first aid kit."
<*You nod weakly, and she gets up and leaves the room, leaving you alone again.*
<*...*
<*...God, what were you thinking?*
<*Despite your better judgement, you look at your wound again. Any slight movement makes it hurt worse, and the bleeding...hasn't stopped. Maybe it's gotten slower, but....it's still blood.*
<*You almost don't notice your mom walk back in. She gently turns your head away from your wing, handing you a water bottle.*
>"Staring at it doesn't do you any good." *Her voice is gentle. Obviously she knows you don't like blood.*
>*She sits behind you, and you wince as she lifts your wing a little to get a better look.*
>"Wow, you...really got yourself good, huh?"
<*You stare down as she starts to wipe the blood away. You have no idea how to explain yourself...*
>"...I should be able to patch you up ok, but we'll go to the doctor tomorrow just to get it looked at."
<"...B-but I-I have school t-tomorro--"
>"I think...you should take a day or two off school." *She rests her hand on your shoulder.* "You...need some rest, I think."
<*...You nod. You don't really want to, but she's probably right...*
<*You wince a little as she cleans the wound itself. It's taking everything to not look over at it. You feel bad making her deal with this...Tears fill your eyes again.*
>*She wraps a bandage around your wing, and moves to sit in front of you.*
<*You can't bring yourself to look at her, instead choosing to stare down at the water bottle in your hands.*
>*She doesn't say anything for a minute.*
>*Evetually, she grabs and holds your hands.*
>"Azzy..."
>"I'm...not going to pretend that I know what you're going through. I...can't imagine what it's like."
>"There's a lot going on. New school, new people, things at home changing..."
>"Not to mention your...change." *She knows you don't like being called...what you are.*
<*Doesn't mean you don't know what she's talking about though. You shrink into yourself a little.*
>"But...hurting yourself like that isn't gonna help anything. It's just going to hurt you."
<"...I-I...I d-don't know what I w-was thinking..." *Your tears get more intense.*
>"It's ok." *She squeezes your hands.* "Sometimes we don't...think straight when we aren't doing ok. I know I've made some questionable choices before."
<"...Really?"
>*She nods.*
<"...L-like what?"
>"Well...I didn't break up with my first boyfriend after he called another girl a bitch for just bumping into him."
<"O-oh..."
>"But...a lot was happening at the time, and I wasn't thinking straight, so I brushed it off. We didn't break up for another...5 months, I think it was?"
<"...Because you...w-weren't doing well...?" *You can't quite describe it, but it's...a little surprising to hear something like that from your mom.*
>*She nods.* "High school was...rough for me, too."
>"I..." *She looks like she's contemplating her next words.* "...Might even know a little about...having done something like this."
<*You look up at her. That really surprises you.*
<*Somehow it's...a little comforting you aren't alone though.*
>"I do want you to promise me something though."
<"Wh-what...?"
>"If you ever feel like wanting to do something like that again, I want you to call me."
<*...You nod your head.*
>"No matter what. Even if I'm at work, or at a friends, you can always call me, and we can talk it out. Ok?"
<"O-ok...I promise."
>*She gives you another hug.* "I love you, Azazel. I'm here to help you however I can."
<"I love you too..."
>*She pulls away, and places her hands on your arms.* "Why don't you let me clean up in here a little, and then I'll order a pizza, alright?"
<"N-no, I can--"
>"You've dealt with enough blood for one day. Let me handle it. You relax in the living room for now."
<"...Th-thank you."
<*You stand up and head out of the room, settling down in the corner of the couch.*
<*...*
<*You can't help but to cry a little more, but you are feeling a little better at least.*