Andy's Apple Farm: Oneshots/short-stories

Behind The Mask.

Disclaimer: I don't own Andy's Apple Farm (Video Game). I don't own the picture (cover). Or the song.

(qwertuno and SilentReadersMatter)

(Inspired by _KaiTheLateFriend_ book called 'Evil Always Wins.' (Mainly chapter 1 and 2.) Check it out, it's amazing!)

(Wanting: talks of depression and implied self-harm. Don't read if triggered.)

(Hope you enjoy.)

Ever felt depression? The emotion feeding off your anger, sadness, rage as it feasts from years or decades of abuse, whether unintentionally or intentional? There's a method people use called hiding behind masks.

Covering their emotions, refusing to let the outside world see underneath the exterior they've managed to create. A concrete faker compared to the original.

I'm fine.

There's a method people use. It's called hiding behind masks. Placing on an external exterior to cover the internal's desperation. It wanting to be led to the surface, but the subconscious blocked it's efforts of letting the host of the body expressing their felt emotions in the situation which regarded its attention.

"Your fine." Andy looked in the mirror, best smile placed on his mouth. "Your fine. They won't know. Your supposed to be happy. Cheerful. Don't let the infection ruin your day."

His mind called the recent experience the infection because he hadn't dealt with emotions like these before, so he had idea how and when to express his hidden desires.

"Your fine."

His eye twitched, but he ignored the obvious sign and continued his performance. He needed to practice the smile and the emotions his mind allowed to be expressed if his friends weren't to see through the exterior it showed him how to put on each and every day.

Your not fine.
You are an infection.
Place on the smile.
And they won't know your pathetic.

The voices, their voices, all (his?) voices echoed through his mind, coming everywhere and nowhere at once. His eyes twitched again.

Ignore it!

He flinched at that particular voice. It's one he'd seen, he's sure of this knowledge. The masculinity and the grief are just two things he detected in every sentence it uttered.

Just...go to your friends.

Andy looked in the mirror at his pathetic reflection. Hands clenching the sink, he laughed at the internal jokes the voices told. His laugh came out hollow and empty, and he lost himself to the incoming breakdown.

Hollow and empty became full on maniacal. His eyes unwittingly turned to see the knife resting on the bathroom shelf. Through his eyes, as if another person is making the decisions for their body, his hands reach and he stared at the object that brought him peace before.

Once. Twice. Thrice.

Andy stared at it a full minute before before deciding the questions weren't worth the incoming relief it would bring.

He placed the knife back on its resting place.

***

Andy's friends were idiots. Playfully hilarious, but some of the idiotic people he'd ever known in his not known years on the farm. As the owner, he ensured everything was in its natural place.