Polar

Internalized

AN: Warnings for intrusive thoughts and implied self harm
Yeahh. Suitcase's wiki might have influenced this one majorly

"So what did you guys think of the movie?" OJ asked, as the four of them left the theater, the night stars twinkling in the sky as they walked along, swirling around his nearly-empty bottle of orange soda in his hand.

"I liked it," Paper said shyly. "Movies like this usually aren't my forte, but it was really interesting."

"Yeah, and the fighting scenes were epic!" Taco exclaimed, leaping forward. "You saw everything, right? They were throwing people over their shoulders and breaking people's sternums, it was so badass!"

"I figured you'd like those parts," Pickle chuckled, glancing in the window of a small late-night ice cream store. "Hey, our parents aren't expecting us home for a little while, wanna grab some ice cream? My treat this time."

Everyone voiced their agreements, and the four of them walked inside, only to be greeted by a nearly empty store, the dim lights flickering slightly above their heads. They all exchanged a look, starting to think that they accidentally walked into an unlocked, closed store, when...

"Good evening, welcome to Cool Times," a voice said flatly from across the room, the four teenagers turning to see a scrawny employee in a baggy uniform wiping down some tables. "We'll be right with you, please be patient."

Taco blinked in disbelief, almost instantly recognizing said employee. "Suitcase?"

The small girl quickly whipped her head around, eyes widening once she spotted Taco and her friends. "Oh! Hey Taco, didn't expect to see you and your friends tonight, heh."

"Wait, you work here, too?" Pickle asked confusedly. "I thought you had a job at the burger joint by our school...?"

Suitcase shrugged. "They don't give me enough hours."

"Is it just...you here, tonight?" Taco questioned.

"Oh no, my manager's in the back. We're...really understaffed though." Suitcase stumbled over to behind the counter, rubbing at the bags under her eyes as she moved to the register.

"She's working multiple jobs?" OJ whispered, concern lacing his voice. "Oh my god, no wonder she spaces out so much, she's probably exhausted all the time..."

"Yeah, I'm pretty worried for her," Taco agreed, approaching the exhausted-looking Suitcase, glancing at her friends as if she was saying, "Don't worry, I can talk with her later" before she cleared her throat. "So Suits, what do ya recommend...?"

~~~~~

The tears streaming down Suitcase's cheeks felt hot as she stared down at her arm, blood dripping from the cuts on her skin and splashing on the bathroom floor, her body shaking as she sat on her knees, her back to the cool porcelain bathtub.

She didn't understand.

This felt good, this made her feel better, more grounded. But at the same time, an odd sort of guilt hung over her body, like a sort of heavy fog, that quickly blended with all her other darker emotions, which resulted in an amalgamation of thoughts of feelings that just made her feel like she needed to turn to the small razor blade in her hand even more.

Why was she feeling so guilty about this?

Why couldn't she just...not feel anything at all?

Suitcase clenched her fist, her breathing shaky as she slowly stood up, shuffling to her bathroom sink, placing the razor to the side, her mind feeling like radio static as she cleaned her wounds and bandaged her hand, throwing her bloody tissues and bandage wrappers in the tiny garbage can, forcing herself into steadying her breathing.