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Medkit is curled at the corner of his room, uncut nails scratching up and down his arms, blood welling and dropping from the deer’s cuts he did a few hours ago. The hands around his arms then tighten, Medkit then grasping his legs and tucking it to his chest; his head burying in it. The deer chokes on his staggering breaths, his deer ears droop, his tail is limp.
Unwanted, unnecessary tears well at the corner of his eyes, then pour down.
Why am I crying?
Why am I scared?
Why am I cutting?
Why am I hating myself?
So fucking pathetic.
My life is decent enough. Others are having it worse. Why am I acting so overly dramatic over smaller problems compared to others? My problems aren’t serious– not at all. But why do I feel so…?
A ding from Medkit’s phone soon illuminates a small fraction of the dimly lit room. His ears perk up, eyes shining a bit as he snatches his phone from off his bed. The deer checks to see who sent the message:
Subby ❤️: ewrwuhgh
Subby ❤️: this or dis no it
Subby ❤️: oook we loving😦😦😦
Medkit’s eyes sparkle, before he takes his phone to the corner of his room with him. Slouching back onto the wall, Medkit lets out a giddy giggle, like his psychotic presence a few seconds ago never existed.
He continues to text his love, Medkit’s tail thumping on the floor relatively quickly.
But, eventually, Subspace randomly doesn’t text back.
Probably gone to do his things again… will she text back soon?
Yeah.
Medkit stands up, fumbling slightly to stand upright, but he regains his balance. The deer trods over to the bathroom, but then pauses. He swiftly walks back to his cupboard, rummaging through it before finding the slightly blood stained pair of small, sharp scissors.
Medkit had taken it from his mother with the reason being “I’d use it for school!” And his mother let him.
Plodding back to the bathroom, the deer closes the door shut, then locks it. He faces the mirror.
Something so foul and ugly stares right back.
“You look fine, Med, don’t worry!”
“Gaining weight? Hah! You look like you’ve barely even gained a kilo! You’re not chunky, Medkit”
Bullshit.
All sugar coated lies. I think.
Medkit huffs, before getting the scissor and hovering it over an uncut patch of skin on his arm.
Medkit feels someone unravelling his sleeve.
“Oh dear…” He could hear his mother say.
“You know those are going to scar!” His brother.
God…
“Get OUT, ____!” Medkit snaps.
And then.
Guess fucking what.
“What’s your brother doing, hun?” The deer’s mother asks.
“Probably locking himself in his room…” Medkit replies, before walking up the stairs to his own room “What a petty boy…”
…
“HEY! WHO’S PETTY?! HUH? HOW ABOUT YOU SHOW DAD YOUR ARM–”
Medkit freezes. Before changing course and slamming open his brother’s room’s door. The deer’s ears are pointed back, his tail bristled as he stared daggers at the boy playing games. His brother spins on his chair, then faces Medkit with a smug smile.
“Well? You BITCH!”
…
Medkit lunges, grabbing his brother’s hands with one hand, using his knee to knee ____’s stomach. The deer’s hands reach and wrap around his brother’s throat, applying pressure almost immediately. Tears prick Medkit’s eyes.
Muffled yells.
Then louder.
Then a SNAP! As Medkit gets yanked back by his father.
____ coughs and hacks, catching his breath. His face is flushed and wet with tears, his frame trembling. Their mother comes into the room, surveying them, then running to Medkit’s brother and cradling him.
“Medkit… what the HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!” Their dad yells.
“He…”
The words rot and decay in his mouth.
…
Medkit walks back into his room minutes later, face moist with partly dried up tears.
The scissor finally collides with Medkit’s soft skin, piercing it and leaving a deep, fleshy wound. The deer exhales slowly, his features relaxing before locking back and doing it over.
And over.
And over.
Maybe I'll overdose soon.
Eh… Last time it got me nauseous.
I’ll take more in the next attempt.
Thoughts like that fill his brain as scars litter his arms and thighs.
Until a message comes again.