Disclaimer: Me no owny.
AN: "Italics" are Cree being taunted.
"Come on. You know you want to."
Cree Lincoln pulled her legs up to her chest, resting her chin on her knees, studying the knife on her bed warily. She reached out, running her hand briefly over the blade, but quickly pulled her hand back, inhaling shakily.
"It hurts, doesn't it? You're always hurting."
Cree closed her eyes, exhaling, counting to ten. She thought of homework, of boys, of rock stars, and managed to calm herself. But when she opened her eyes, the knife was still there, still in front of her, the dim light in her room dancing across the silver blade, taunting her, it seemed. It was her hobby, her addiction, her obsession. She couldn't just close her eyes and wish it away; no, that was child's thinking. She couldn't wish the pain away, either. The longing to give in to her overpowering urge.
"I can make the pain go away."
Against her better judgment, Cree finally took the knife, holding it in her hands. Experimentally, she pressed the blade to her wrist, shivering slightly as the cool metal met her warm flesh. Her pulse rate jumped erratically beneath the knife's blade, as though sensing her intent. Cree chewed her lip, pulling the knife from her wrist, from her pulse, from her life, but she didn't put it down. Instead, she reached down, rolling up her jeans to reveal her leg. She pressed the knife to her leg, ignoring the prick of metal against skin, and with one quick motion slashed her leg, gritting her teeth as pain flashed through her body; but it faded quickly. It never lasted to long. She watched in silent fascination as blood trickled from the cut, down her leg, and she lowered her hand to catch the drops of blood that fell from her leg, so they wouldn't stain her bed, closing her eyes as the bleeding made the pain fade, just a little, just enough.
Cree's obsession had started with an accident. Looking back, she couldn't remember exactly what had happened; all she remembered was that she had cut herself, by mistake, and instead of immediately going to find a Band-Aid, she had simply watched as the blood oozed sluggishly down her arm, and she had felt the pain fade, just a little. And she was hooked.
The first cut had scabbed over and healed with time, but Cree was smart enough to know that to continue her new hobby, she couldn't cut her arms. She wore short sleeves; people would see the scars. That was when she had turned to her legs; she wore jeans all the time, so no one knew what she was doing to herself. And in time her legs bore the scars of her obsession, some straight, and a few curving off a little. Now, waiting for the bleeding to stop from her newest cut, Cree studied her scars, like a person watching the weather channel.
"Cree! Cree, what are you doing in there? We gotta go!"
Cree jumped, badly shaken by Abby's voice on the other side of her door. She glanced up at it once, then back at her legs. After a moment, she raised the knife again, once again pressing it to her wrist. But still she hesitated.
As the months passed, Cree had been working up the courage to slit her wrists. She knew what would happen if she did, but wouldn't that be good? Slitting her wrists would make all the pain go away.
"Cree! I know you're in there!"
Cree bit her lip, glancing once more at the door. Please hold, she begged the lock. Please hold, don't let my little sister come in and see me like this…
"It's only two little cuts, some bleeding, and then it's all over. The pain is all over. Isn't that what you want?"
Cree's hand was shaking now, and two tears rolled silently down her cheeks. She wanted the pain to stop, this dull ache, always knowing that she and her sister hated each other deep down, always doing what Father commanded, because she wasn't strong enough to fight. She was tired. She didn't want to fight anymore. She just wanted to rest…
"Cree, are you alright in there?" Concern was in Abby's voice now, concern and steadily increasing panic. "Cree, open this door, right now! What are you doing? Cree! Cree!"
Steady thuds now, as Abby threw herself against Cree's door, trying to force it open, her cries becoming increasingly panicked as her sister remained silent. Soon her cries changed, no longer calling for Cree but for Mom, for Dad, for somebody, and Cree heard footsteps running down the hall in the direction of Abby's voice, voices answering her pleading calls, and in that instant Cree made the decision.
She pressed the knife's blade to her wrist, and with two quick slashes slit them, and she sank onto the bed as dizziness overtook her and darkness wreathed the edges of her vision, and faintly she heard her door being slammed open, and her sister's scream, and then blessed oblivion.
Um... yeah. Cliffhanger.
Firstly, this is a one-shot, so no begging me to write a new chapter. Secondly, I might write a sequel to this, since I already have two ideas...
a) Those Left Holding On- in this one, Cree's suicide attempt was sucessful, and now Abby must accept that sometimes one's enemy is not something clearly seen, and she must gain the strength to move on.
b) Fighting Back- in this one, Cree survived her suicide attempt, but everything has changed. To make things right, Cree must put her demons to rest once and for all.
Please tell me which one you'd prefer!