Title: Un-reality

Summary: 'To be beaten by an unlikely enemy; himself…'

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters.

Authors note: This is my way of expressing what I feel when I self-harm. A lot of people ask me why I do it, why am I that stupid? I never really know how to answer, and so wrote this. This is why, or as near to why as I could ever express.

A 10-minute wonder.

WARNING: A very dark fic, probably my darkest piece yet.

Darkness swirled around him, twisting before his eyes, turning everything he thought or saw into something evil and menacing. He felt walls close in about him making the space in which he sat seem smaller and much more prison-like. He tried to stand, tried to escape before all manner of exit was closed off but found he could not move. His arms were manacled heavily to the floor and his legs were trapped in chains too weighty for him to even try and lift. At this point, when he felt too exhausted to try anymore, he resigned himself to his fate; to die alone and unloved, away from all that he loved and cared about. To be beaten by an unlikely enemy; himself, for he was not trapped or captured by some spawn of Mordor or a pack raving humans.

He was the prisoner of himself; his own mind.

Despair and depression had forced him into a place where he had no way of getting out. He was doomed to sit and wait while his thoughts were twisted so much that he barely knew himself or anyone around him. Trapped forever in an unforgiving darkness, unforgiving and condemning.

This realisation came with a seemingly unwilling understanding. This was what he had been feeling for the past few weeks and now it had all come down to this…this void of nothing. No feelings, emotions, nothing. He could neither see nor hear and was sure that he was alone in this jail that promised a horrible and imminent end.

But he couldn't give up could he? He wasn't that worthless, that useless that he would let himself be destroyed by no solid enemy but by instead his own doubt, desolation, misery and wretchedness that he had directed at himself for what seemed like an eternity; for he could remember nothing of his life before the despondency and hopelessness. No light just a never-ending path of dark and despair.

There had to be a way to get back to life though, out of this…nothing!

And that was when he felt it, a sharp pain that thrust its way through the bonds that bound him to this un-reality. It pulled him back, threw him a line that he felt along until he was forced through a wall of blinding light.


He looked down and noticed the blood that was dripping from his wrist onto the floor and dropped the knife he held in his hands.

He was free again…for now.

I Veth

(The End)