*****
Willow opened up the jewelry box lid to expose where it lay. Her sickness and the cure. She feels trapped into using the blade every night. The tool that released her was now trapping her in a worse cage. Not that it means she'll stop. *How many will it be today, bitch? This is what you deserve*.
Changing into her red and white striped nightshirt, Willow sighed deeply. It used to set her free, now, it's become unreal. And reality was the object of the game. Stopping isn't that easy though. You think "maybe tonight, it'll work like it used to again," only to be disappointed nightly. She picks up the blade and her mind shuts down. No one home.
Every night, the music accompanying cutting has to be perfect. She switches the stereo on to the fourth CD.
Courtney Love's voice filters through the cloud of unhappiness in her room. It's funny; once the music is playing, she doesn't hear it anymore. Little fragments of songs make it to her ears.
Miles and miles of perfect skin
I swear I do, I fit right in
Willow lifts up the blade and just watches the light play off it. Brings the
blade down again and again until all she sees is a stream of blood down her
leg.
It's the emptiness that's all you have left
Too terrified of your frozen breath
It's a bitter mouth it's buttered and knived
It's the awful truth you fight for your life
It might as well it might as well hurt
She watches it puddle up and turn darker until she realizes she hears
someone on the stairs. Her mind starts up again, and thoughts flow once more.
*shit, no one is supposed to be home*. She scrambles to throw some tissues
on the cuts and hides the bloody blade under her pillow.
"Hey Will, I know it's kinda late--." She looks up to see Buffy is at her door.
*Don't panic, don't panic, everyone is blind. They only see what they want to*
"Uh-, hi Buffy. What's up? I was just getting ready to go to bed."
"Ooo, Hole. I didn't know you liked them. I came by because I've been worried about you lately. I mean, you bail right after school, and you seem...." Buffy sat down on the bed next to Willow and took her hand. "I just wanted to make sure you're OK. Are you?"
The feel of another person's skin next to hers made her want to vomit. *You can't touch me. I'm disgusting. You shouldn't have to be near me. You can't care about me. I'm worthless. I'm revolting. I'm revolting*. But she didn't want to move her hand; that would be un-fake-Willow-like. "Yeah! Of course I am"
*Oops, did I say that a little too brightly? Great, now she's giving me the even more concerned look*
*you stupid bitch. do I look OK?! see past my act! PLEASE, see past this mask!*
"All right. I'll see you tomorrow then." Anger rises in Willow for Buffy not noticing the faint red splotches that are now showing through her nightshirt.
"OK, bye Buffy!", she manages to choke out. Buffy stands up, and is at the door when Willow's anger dissolves and can't take it anymore. "Buffy?", she says in a small voice. Buffy doesn't hear her, and continues down the stairs. The mask won't let her show weakness like that again. She hears the front door close and bursts into tears. Picking up her blade from under the pillow, she punishes herself for being so weak. She almost asked for help.
~fin~