"It" Can't be Helped (Revised) | ♾️ | Blue Exorcist

12

I ground my teeth as I dug the knife into the flesh over my left shoulder. While I didn't like utilizing this area, it was my only option. Lately, I'd been adding more and more scars to my arms. It pissed me off that I couldn't figure out why, either. I pressed firmly on the blade before ripping it across my skin. Hissing through my teeth, I brought the knife back up, readjusting my grip on the handle. My forearms were a smattering of purple lines. My self harm having ramped up in severity over the last month or so.

It's been three months since Yukio shot me, three months since I started this demented habit. Months. I've realized that the deadline above my head was counting down, the numbers getting smaller and as the days passed. Yet, I was nowhere near completing the task that the Grigori had set forth for me. I knew it would be almost impossible when I'd started. But I feel as tho I'd procrastinated and now I was paying the price.

Shura hasn't mentioned the Grigori for a few weeks now. Which was surprising seeing as how she knew it was what drove me in my practices. However, I think she knew just as well as I did that I was going to fail.

I'd be executed.

While the idea of ending this pathetic life was entertaining, that didn't mean I didn't want to live. It was a precarious situation. And as I drove my knife into my skin again, I knew that it would be by my own hands that I'd make the final decision. The Grigori may have given me a deadline, but they wouldn't be the ones to kill me. I wouldn't give them that satisfaction. The tip of my knife trembled and it startled me. I realized my whole body was wracked in tremors and I lowered my weapon. I didn't want to die, but if I had to, it would be on my own terms.

I wanted to live. I wanted to wake up in the morning, begrudgingly, as Yukio ripped the blankets off of me. I wanted to go to school and laugh at the drama that was circling around campus. I wanted to go to cram school and laugh as the other students were tackled by demons in gym class. I wanted to sit next to Izumo and listen to her call me an idiot when I asked about her day. I wanted to become an Exorcist, just like my brother and Dad.

My life was finally starting to get better. Yukio and I were back on good terms. And the smiles he gave me blossomed so deep in my heart I swear there was a meadow growing inside of my ribcage. I was excelling in my classes, and not just in cram school, but in day classes, as well. Despite my depression, I'd somehow found the urge to do well in my academics. Maybe it was purely out of spite from being called lazy for so long. And Kamiki-chan. I realized that I had no shot with her, but that didn't mean I didn't want to try. The way she blushed when I complimented her made my stomach dance with butterflies. She would always return the praise back to me, and she wasn't the only one. Yukio, Shura, and most of the cram school students have offhandedly mentioned my hard earned success.

Yet, despite all of it, I still felt so worthless.

I knew my life was coming to an end, so why couldn't I just enjoy it up until then? Why did my emotions get so violent? With every praise, every accomplishment, my brain would clap back with some sort of negativity. I would never be good enough, I was never meant to be good, at all. I was the son of Satan, all I did was destroy; and that included myself.

It.

I grunted, bringing my knife back up to my shoulder and tearing a new injury. I was a hopeless, nameless, sonovabitch. I wasn't a being, I was an object, a weapon only referred to as an it. I was going to be used, examined, and disposed of when the Grigori pleased. The Vatican received a six month free subscription to a half demon hybrid, and they planned on cancelling it the day of the renewal period.

Sighing, I flipped the knife closed and shoved it into my pajama pocket. I grabbed my discarded hoodie and threw it on. My time was limited on this earth, and If I wasn't able to experience any happiness, I'd at least indulge in my addiction.