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"FUCK FUCK FUCK!" Astrid screamed under her breath. Her hands felt their way into her hair, and she clenched as she hit her head against the door. Not hard enough to cause a loud thud. But it closed it fully, as it wasn't closed properly. She felt even more of an idiot, knowing the others could've probably heard her pathetic predicament.
Her head and body slid against the wooden door, causing the door to creak weakly. Her hands quickly let go, but fell to the floor along with her body. The friction of her head, hair, and plumicorns ungracefully gliding against the wood was a nightmare, but she couldn't bother. The black and white tiles on the floor were cold against her skin. Her face. She could already imagine how her 'neighbors' in this mansion would react. Let alone how her cabinmates would react if they saw her like this. Their fucking head counselor with her head practically down, pounding against the washroom floor because, what? A few things go wrong? More than just a fucking few. She was a head counselor, and she missed the head cabin counselor meeting. Why was she even picked for that role? She was short of everything great.
She begrudgingly forced herself to turn onto her back, keeping her head forcefully against the door of the washroom. Shit. She didn't even lock it either. One way to ruin her self-pity party. Astrid planted her cold hands against the tile and pushed her upper half up enough into a sitting position. All of that effort to fidget with a doorknob to lock it. She let out a quiet sigh before slumping back down, hitting her head back against the tile. Where was she? Oh, right. Like she would ever forget about her faults. The cabin mates decided the best person for the role of head cabin counselor, the one meant to stand for the Hypnos cabin, was... an average at everything, dumb fuck, who struggled to stay awake or sleep. Not to mention, for a cabin of feathers and wings, they chose the one with barely any. Almost everyone could fly, and she was left on the ground. Sometimes it was hard to believe she was related to them. Other than the sleeping part. But did it really matter with feathers, flocks, and fucking flight? She groaned under her breath before glancing at her reflection in the mirror above the counter. Oh, right. She can't be seen if she's wallowing on the floor.
"Fuck me right in the ass..." She darkly moaned as she lay there. She wanted to see her own reflection, but did she really? See those light gray feathers that made her look ridiculous? See the gloom in her face about being like this? See her average body, with average traits? The eye bags? The messy hair? The self-neglect? She didn't even want to think about the latter. The whole reason she missed that meeting was that she refused to leave this mansion and return. She's been rotting in her room for... what, 2 weeks? More like fucking 3 days. She wanted to scream at the top of her lungs. She wanted to cry into the tiled floor. But she didn't. Her hands drifted back into her hair to anxiously scratch at her scalp.
After what felt like hours, or days, even though it could've only been 10 seconds, she finally pushed herself to act. Even if that only stemmed from her telling herself that if she struggled any longer, she'd actually have to confess her troubles. Like she'd even confess to struggling. Who knows what fucking Eden would do this time? The dude has seen Astrid at her worst. He'd probably send her to the ward. How the hell does he do it? Not struggle in life? Fucking lucky bastard. He actually has a parent for them. An alive one. Oh, and what would Ivory do? Tell her to go to therapy? FORCE her to go? Try to get her to tell her what's making her act like this? The thought felt sickening. She was not a baby anymore. She was not some... fucking addict. She was not someone that needed help. She could handle this on her own.
She rose from the ground with that... motivation? Was it really that, if it was a threat? Who really gives a shit?
Astrid's gaze fell upon herself. In the bathroom light, the long mirror was on the wall of the bathroom. The cold counter below it held everyone's belongings that occupied that bathroom. Astrid just kept her self-care in her room. The sinks in the counter were so... clean and sparkly. Who knew a fucking sink was cleaner than her. Her hands slammed against the black marble countertop, before her nails tried to dig into the flat surface. The attempt was futile, other than the vague bite of pain from her too-short nails. Her head dipped down, before slowly tilting back up, as if giving herself a grand show of herself.
Her appearance was scraggly, to put it. She wore a low-cut, black shirt with some stupid text in bright white font. 'White boy of the year'. Yeah, she certainly felt like the white boy of the year. She scoffed at herself. The sight was revolting. Tangled, muted brown hair. Blond roots showing. Eye bags. Her septum piercing was crooked. She lazily stuck her tongue out to look at her midline tongue piercing. Surprisingly, it didn't get infected because of no tendency to it. As she retracted her tongue back into her mouth, she noted the black spots on her back teeth. Guess the years of struggling with dental hygiene were getting to her. How FUCKING fun!
The main issue of this appearance? Those fucking feathers. Ruffled, light gray, matted into her hair, and the ones on her forehead were just fine. She closed her eyes and scrunched her eyelids. She honestly would rather she had been born without them. She couldn't even pull them off. Maybe someone better. Pretty. Popular. Someone who could actually love themselves, could pull it off. She hated how she wasn't like that. What was the point of them if she couldn't fly? WHY HAVE FEATHERS IF SHE COULDN'T EVEN HAVE WINGS? WHY? WHY? Of course she wasn't. She wasn't meant to be good. It was like life was punishing her. Too rude. Average Grades. Narcolepsy. Didn't fit in. Weed Addiction. Being a fucking orphan. Couldn't life get any better? Why did Eden get to live so amazingly? Why does Ivory get to get better? At least Ivory could pull off blonde hair. At least Eden could handle his bad feelings. What the fuck was wrong with her?
Then, there was a sharp pain.
She sucked in air as she quickly opened her eyes and retracted her hand. Her head quickly swooped down to look at her own arm and hand. Her hand was... previously in her hair, clenched into a ball. There was a familiar feeling in its grasp. Light, gentle. A feather.
Astrid unclenched her hand and recognized the sight. The splatter of blood, the feather in her hand. She couldn't tell if she felt sick or relieved. Her vision darted to the sink under her. It was filled with more feathers, and more blood splatter. Why so much? She's done this before. The feathers in her hair don't bleed so much. But the-
She quickly focused her attention up, facing the mirror again. Her plumicorns? Practically gone. Her forehead dripped weakly with blood, from where the feathers usually stood. Only one stood left to the test of her anger. Her hands felt weak, letting the feather in her hand fall into the sink as well. She stared into the mirror, at the work she had done without realizing it. She'd look like a newborn bird again shortly. All fuzzy, with no feathers. What if her feathers didn't grow back? The more she stared at the person staring back at her, the more she wanted to cry. She didn't let herself. A sniffle came out. The blinking began. She knew she had to let it happen. Her body felt numb. She let her head look down in shame, as she drooped to her knees. The warm tears in her eyes felt similar to the blood cooling on her forehead. Her forehead pressed against the cool side of the counter. Her hands rested on the counter, but she gave up on caring at all. Her right hand lifted once more, roaming in her hair, back to her forehead. Before she knew it, the pain was back, and the release of a feather in her hand. Not that she cared, or bothered to stop it.
She already did all of it. Might as well finish the job. As her mind finally fell quiet, the second worst thing happened.
Knocking.
"Hey, whoever's in there, can you hurry up?"
She tried to force herself to sober up, leaning her head back to wipe her tears. "Fuck.."
"Yeah, gimme a moment.."