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

8

I sighed deeply, allowing the hot shower to thrum against my tense muscles. It'd been a typical day, yet I was exhausted nonetheless. My tired mind didn't help my mood, which seemed to be in an ever persistent state of flatness lately. Turning around, I let the water wash over my head as I placed my palms against the shower wall. I watched as the droplets fell from my eyebrows down to the swirling drain below. After a few moments, my gaze flickered to my exposed forearms. The tops of my arms were misleading with how smooth and unharmed they appeared. Dropping my hands, I turned my palms toward me, my eyes trailing over the unhealed wounds.

Should I... should I talk to someone about this? The obvious answer was a resounding "yes." However, I knew I wouldn't speak a word to any soul about this issue. I'd made my own grave with my choices, I needed to live with them. A huff escaped my lips and I closed my eyes briefly. Living with this mistake would have consequences for the average person. Not me, though. I had a target on my back the way it was. I had a timer, so if I decided to self destruct in the meantime, did it truly matter? What were the consequences in this situation? Permanent scars and the possibility of suicide if I fucked up? I wouldn't have to deal with either in just a few short months, so the consequences were null. If anything, self harm was currently a positive.

The thought of my deadline started a slow crawling into the pit of my stomach. Despite my habits; I didn't really want to die. I know it seems backwards considering the state of my arms. Yet, it was only a means to ground myself with my whirling emotions lately. If I didn't have this damned deadline hovering above my every move, I'd feel the freedom I longingly ached for. This deadline that I knew, deep down, that I'd never actually surpass. My mine flickered to memories of my most recent training sessions with Shura. The reminiscent feeling of being knocked to my ass over and over clouded my brain. I know Shura kept saying to simply get up and keep trying, that eventually my work would pay off. However, every day that passed was another day closer to death and no closer to releasing me from my bonds.

"Rin?" Kuro's high-pitched voice echoed from behind the bathroom door, pulling me from my musings. I blinked, staring at my hands, which were balled into fists and trembling. Taking a deep breath, I let my arms fall to my side and answered my familiar. "You've been in there awhile, are you okay?"

"Yeah," I said neutrally. "I'll be out in a few minutes." Several moments passed and I didn't hear a reply, so I figured he'd moved on. Sighing, I reached to turn off the water, the methodical thrum of the droplets hitting the fiberglass ceased. The only sound was the last of the water cascading off my body, but the silence in the room seemed so much louder. Opening the shower, I grabbed my nearby towel and dried my hair before wrapping it around my hips. I took a few steps toward the sink, placing my palms on the counter and leveling with my reflection.

Pathetic.

I sneered at the raven-haired teen, feeling a hatred so deeply rooted against him that I'd never felt for anything else in my life. How many times have I stared at myself like this with such contempt? It was before the academy, before dad's death even. I'd always held some sort of unrest about the person that I was. However, at this point, I couldn't even call the thing in the mirror a person at all.

It.

My fingers dragged against the countertop, my nails failing to dig in to the hard surface. I held myself back from shattering the mirror, and the boy who stood inside. It'd only cause me more issues.

Blue eyes stared back at me with repulsion, his bare torso tightly wound with his tense muscles. I drew in a deep breath and closed my eyes before turning away from the mirror. I'd only succeed in pissing myself off I continued to stare at my reflection. Doing my best to bury my self-loathing, I dried off and got dressed without giving the teen a second glance.