Chapter Text
I sat at the table, rolling up my sleeves to be able to eat without dirtying my sleeves. Stan regarded me with disgust. “Do you really have to reveal that here? There are children here.” His voice was but a hiss between his teeth, making my insides turn. The so-called-children Stan talked about were Mabel and Dipper, happily minding their own business and eating their supper.
Ford sat across from me, and gave me a supportive smile as Stan elbowed me in the side. Ford was unaware of the situation happening, and I pushed my chair away from the table. “I’d like to be excused, I have to..” I paused, thinking of something to get me away from the table… “, use the bathroom.”
Ford almost made a move to stand, but I exited the room too quickly.
In the bathroom, I dug around and finally found Stan’s razor. I made quick work of finding the spare blades for the thing and slid one out of the case.
I pulled up my pantleg, revealing my cut-up calf with scars lacing my leg. I lined up the blade with the other horizontal scars, pulling the blade through my skin in a heartbeat. I slit through the skin again, pushing until I saw the yellow fat layer of my skin show.
As adrenaline rushed through my body, I held my breath for a moment, waiting for the downpour of blood from the now-open wound. I sighed in relief, a sense of peace filling my body.
“You want disgusting? Use that you bastard.” I muttered this sorely while removing Stan’s razorblade and replacing it with the blood-dipped blade i just used to cut my leg open.
I dropped Stan’s razor realizing I didn’t want to leave blood on the floor. Stan always put up some sort of issues with my scars, it didn’t even matter if Dipper or Mabel were even around to see it. He was just disgusted at my marred arms.
I snagged toilet paper from the wall, dabbing at the blood. It was satisfying to watch the blood run down my leg, but I didn’t want to leave a mess.
Hand on my calf, I hopped to where I could reach the medicine cabinet and dug around for a bandage wrap. I snagged it and pressed on the cut again, stopping the bleeding.
With the bleeding stopped, I wrapped my leg with the reusable bandage, having washed my leg off first.
I cleared my throat, pulling my pantleg down over the bandage. I winced at trying to put weight on my leg, but I steeled myself and continued walking.
The full packet of extra razors sat on the edge of the sink, forgotten to be put away.
I came into the living room, my sweater sleeves pulled down over my wrists and halfway over my hands. Stan and the kids were watching something and I sat down at the other end of the couch, seeing the ‘ducktective’ that Mabel went on and on about.
Mabel shifted her weight, leaning against me, smiling and pointing out what was happening on the television.
Eventually, Ford entered the room, calling my attention to him in the doorway. “______, can we talk? I need your help with something.” Ford had his hands behind his back, his eyes darting down my body to my legs.
I furrowed my brow, nudging Mabel to move for a second. “-But we’re just at the climax of the-”
“I’ll be back Mabel, you can fill me in.” I smiled at Mabel, heading to where Ford was.
Ford lead the way back upstairs, entering the bathroom I’d cut myself in. I cocked my head. “What’re we in here for?” I instantly fired at Ford.
Ford folded his arms after gesturing to the sink. My eyes honed in on the pack of razor blades, but I flicked my eyes back to him. “What’s wrong?” his words rang in my ears.
I shrugged, striking my head forward. “What do you mean? You know it wasn’t m-”
“You’ve been favoring your right leg, the razor currently in Stan’s razor is bloody, and at dinner you excused yourself faster than I could say sit down.” Ford shot at me, looking at me expectantly.
I muttered under my breath for a moment about how accurate he was, and I looked down at the floor. “It was nothing.”
I turned to leave, but Ford stepped into the doorway. He blocked my way of exit, “I’m not moving until you tell me, what’s wrong.”
I bit my lip, tears forming in my eyes. I really didn’t want to bring up the fact that Stan kept getting on my back about my scars, for fear that it would stir issues or have me fired. I needed this job.
“Please, Pines. I don’t wish to speak of these things right now.”
“And there you are, using fancy analogies to get out of speaking about what’s-”
“You don’t even know what’s wrong! Who are you to tell me what’s going on?!”
I pushed him, the man stumbling backwards out of surprise at my lashing out. We may have gotten into disagreements in past, but it never got to a point where it was physical.
He stared at me, shock forming around his face.
I pushed past Ford, shoving my shoulder into his chest as I shouldered my way past him to downstairs, hoping the blatant disrespect and physical lash out wouldn’t get me fired.