A/N episode 5 is "stand still like the hummingbird" word count: 3788 words
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Eleanor was in pain. Fez was in pain. I was in pain. Everything was really fucking painful. Sometimes things work themselves out, sometimes the pain goes away. Sometimes it doesn't.
There are a million cliche things I could say about trust. I could rant on and on about how fucking hard it is to rebuild. But it doesn't really matter how I explain it, because no matter what, it's something that I no longer believe in.
The people who I thought I could fucking trust with my life showed me that, in an instant, they could change. So fuck that. Fuck trying to get better, fuck rehab, fuck everyone.
And my mom? She fucking ruined my life. But she couldn't have done it without out Jules and Elliot, the people who I fucking loved. And that's pretty fucking awful.
"Even if you ain't wanna tell me, I know somethings up wit' you, Elle. I'm fuckin' worried about you. Just- fucking' call me, Eleanor."
Fezco's voice was laced with sadness, even over the phone as Eleanor listened to the third message he had left for her. She almost wanted to laugh- it was all too similar to when she was lying in the exact spot on the floor, listening to Nate's voicemails and bawling her eyes out.
And it was basically the same thing, except no tears left Eleanor's eyes. She felt- numb. Empty. The hurt that used to be reigned in had been set free, taking over Eleanor. Controlling her, using her body as a vessel for it's own sick pleasure.
She refused to cut on her wrists- she had learned her lesson before, having to explain them away with cat scratches and tree branches. But her thighs were a maze of angry red lines, some so deep they still bled, and some that just barely grazed the surface. Regardless of how deep or how many, they were still her escape, her breath of fresh air from the numbness.
But it started to hurt less, started to feel the same as everything else. So it became a routine, go deeper, feel more pain. Feel more of anything.
Sometimes, though, she couldn't stop herself. It was like something else was moving her hand, like even if she wanted to she couldn't stop.
Those moments scared her the most, more than the numb feeling that was always there. Because what if she really couldn't stop? What if she didn't stop until she was just an empty husk of a person? What if she went too deep?
And what scared her even more was the thoughts that crept up and whispered, "Would that really be so bad?"
