Just Let Me Die

Chapter 3: The Darkness Of Blood

Thick, red liquid ran down his arms. Jack looked at the razor blade in his hand, loving it but hating it at the same time, a part of him saying to throw it and a part of him saying to keep it close. 

Jack hated that he needed it. He hated that the cutting made him feel secure.

He clenched his fist with the razor still in it, feeling the blade cutting into the skin on his hand.

Jack was used to it. Sure, it hurt, but it also brought relief.

He switched hands and rolled up his sleeve, looking at his wrist. Scars started at the base of his hand and traveled all the way up to his shoulder. Some were light pink, recent but not new enough to be bleeding. Some were old enough to be nothing more than raised white lines on the surface of Jack's skin. Others poured blood.

Everyone hates me.

Jack made another cut.

I'm a killer.

More red.

They think I'm a freak.

Feelings etched into his skin.

The Guardians don't know about this.

Tedious relief.

If they find out, they'll hate me like everyone else. 

Another cut.

I'm disgusting.

The painful truth.

This was all that he was. Disgusting. A freak. A depressed teen with problems. That's what I am, Jack realized, Problematic. Everyone would be better off without me.

Even the Guardians. How could they rely on him to protect children, when all he could do right was cut into his own flesh? How could Jack save children when he couldn't even save himself? What was the point of risking his life  for children when he was already so close to giving it up?

Jack could only hold on for so long. Yes, the self-harm was a form of release, but that couldn't last for too much longer. Eventually, he would need to let go, to release himself. 

The only way to rid himself of the emptiness was to become emptiness. And the only way to do that would be by dying.

Jack looked at the bathroom mirror. 

"I'm a killer." He said out loud. "I'm the patron of the season of death and cold. I've killed people. I've killed children. And it doesn't matter that I didn't mean to because that won't bring them home."

His reflection stared back at him. Jack smiled ruefully.

"This is my blood." He dipped his fingers in the liquid on the countertop. "My blood. I made myself bleed by cutting myself. I'm despicable, and nothing can change that. I'm disgusting."

Jack started to shake, his voice trembling.

"I can't tell anyone. The Guardians will be disappointed in me. They'll say they expected better, they'll think I just want attention. I lie so much. I tell them I'm okay, and I'm not. Sometimes I feel okay, like it will get better... But it just gets worse."

His voice dropped to whisper.

"Especially at night, right before I fall asleep. That's when I forget how to feel."

Jack was about to cry. He could feel the heat coming behind his eyes. No. Not gonna cry. I'm weak, but at least I can be strong by holding in tears. Jack told himself. He took several deep breaths until the muscles in his throat and chest loosened, allowing him to face the mirror once more.

"No one can find out about this."

He got some bandages from the cupboard under the sink and cleaned up both his arms, not wincing when the cuts stung. Jack was used to it. Then he got a washcloth and wiped all the blood off the counters, making sure to get every last scarlet drop.

Throwing the cloth into the laundry shoot, Jack stepped back and examined his work. The bathroom was in the same condition as it was when he came into it. North would never know that Jack's blood had ran in his factory.

"Jack!" Bunny called, "Where are ya, ya little s-"

"Bunny!" Tooth scolded.

Jack took a deep breath. Walked out of the bathroom. Put a smile on his face.

"Over here, guys!" He said with fake cheerfulness. He felt a little dizzy from blood loss, but as an immortal, his white blood cells would always make more. Jack would be fine in a minute.

"We are going outside." North announced, his eyes twinkling merrily.

"We're think about having snowball fights. You're coming with us." Tooth said, grabbing his arm playfully. Jack barely stopped himself from flinching as the cuts burned at the movement.

Jack was tempted. Snowball fight? He was the freaking king  of snowball fighting. He would dominate out there.

However, there was always the chance of Connor, Summer, Crash, and Bolt finding him outside. They always did. Jack didn't want the Guardians to know about what the Four did to him, he didn't want them to think he was that weak.

"Sorry, Toothy." Jack told her, "Not this time."

Even Bunny, who normally pretended he didn't care, looked surprised. An exclamation point appeared over Sandy's head.

"What?" Tooth asked, dropping his arm. "Why not?"

"I'm a little tired," Jack said. It wasn't a lie, he was talking about the tiredness of everything, the tiredness that weighed on his soul, the tiredness that made him want to sleep forever.

That kind of tired.

"You always come outside," North pointed out. "You are really giving up chance to hit Bunny with snowball?"

Bunny shot North a glare and said, "There has to be another reason, mate. 'Tired' isn't gonna cut it." 

Sandman hesitated, then nodded, agreeing.

"Well, I didn't exactly sleep well  last night, you know?" Jack shivered as he recalled the nightmare. Pushing the dead girl and her father from his mind, he added, "Seriously, I'm tired."

North hesitated.

"Well, if you want to join us later, come outside." He said finally, and Jack's heart sunk. One part of him begged one of them to realize it was a lie, and he longed to tell them the real reason he didn't want to go, but he knew that couldn't happen.

There would only be so much the Guardians would believe, and after that, they wouldn't trust him. Jack couldn't risk that.

No, he would keep in all in.

After all, the inside was the safest place to hide.