⚠️Trigger warning for anyone affected by or triggered by self harm, depression and self deprecating thoughts. (I will put a warning emoji before and after any triggering parts, you do not have to read if you do not want to) ⚠️
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It was cold when he woke up. And dark. Why was it so dark all of a sudden?
'Torches went out a few hours ago.'
Oh. Yeah that made sense, he was at bedrock after all. Tommy went to go rub the sleep out of his eyes but found there to still be a mask in the way.
'So it wasn't a dream...'
'It was not.'
He stopped for a second.
'Nightmare. Am I a monster?'
'No... I don't think you are.'
'But I killed a kid'
Nightmare now stood in front of him. He placed a hand on Tommy cheek, attempting and ultimately failing to wipe away the tears that now fell.
'That child was going to die either way. You did him a favour. He died under better circumstances with you then he would have without.'
'But he was a kid. He didn't do anything wrong and I killed him.'
'And what is to say that the other people you killed did anything wrong?'
'That doesn't matter! It was a kid! He wasn't even a teenager yet! Hell! He couldn't have been over 7!'
'Tommy?'
"Oh god. He wasn't even 7 yet was he?"
'Tommy!'
⚠️
His mind felt fuzzy. Tears burned his eyes and cheeks as they fell.
He ripped the mask from his face and held his hands over his ears, nails digging into his skull.
He was breathing heavily, panting with each breath as his throat refused to let more air in. Eyes shut tight. Each sob that wracked his body caused his body to convulse.
He rocked back and fourth, knees tightly against his chest. He continued to run his nails through his hair, pulling at it and scratching at his skull and back of his neck.
His chest felt so tight.
He couldn't breath.
The ringing in his ears was so loud.
Tears continued down his face.
Coughs and hiccups soon came through as his lungs tried desperately to get more air in.
A mantra ran through his mind.
'Monster'
'Freak'
'Useless'
'Bastard'
'Should have died'
'Monster'
'Murderer'
'Should have done it'
'Should have killed yourself'
'Freak'
'Pathetic'
'Useless'
'Nothing'
'Worthless'
All of these thoughts were so loud. He could barely even hear the muffled voices of the dead.
'I— ok-y'
'-ey k— I— go-n- to b- o—-'
'L—-en'
'H—'
'T-m—'
'Br—t-'
'Co-m-n k-d —ea-h'
'K-D'
'-EY'
'KI-D-'
'P-ea— k-d lis—n'
'To-my'
'Ple-e'
Everything was just too much.
Too many sounds.
Too many feelings.
Too many thoughts.
Too much.
It was too much.
He wanted it to be quiet.
He needed silence.
'Pain. Pain made it stop before.'
(Self harm trigger here. Ends at the warning emoji)
Tommy looked through blurred eyes at the knives he had left on the floor.
It couldn't be that bad.
It helped before.
It would help again right?
Just one.
It would be just one.
Tommy crawled towards the blades and picked one of them up gently.
He rolled up his sleeve and pressed it against his arm ever so slightly. The tip of the blade barely made contact yet a small bead of blood started to surface.
His arms itched.
He wanted to scratch at them, cut at them, anything to stop the infernal pulsing courting through them.
'Please don't'
Nightmare pleaded ever so gently.
'Please put the blade down my child.
Put on the mask, and put the blade down.'
(Self harm warning ends)
⚠️
His emotions seemed to turn off like a switch.
He felt numb.
He wasn't in control.
He didn't know whether this was what he wanted.
His body moved on its own.
Putting down the knives and sliding them away, his body moved to lean against the walls again.
The mask was beside him now, it's hollow black eyes stared at him.
He leant down and picked it up gently.
He tied it round his head and leant back against the wall behind him, head tilted up ever so slightly.
He could feel his control coming back again.
Ever so slightly he began to be able to move his hands and feet, then his legs and arms, then he could move his entire body.
His mind was the last thing left as the haziness finally started to leave.
As the fog cleared he opened his eyes to find nightmare sitting crossed legged in front of him.
He looked fainter than before.
He could almost see completely through him.
"What happened" he said, he throat was still sore from crying, evident from the scratchiness of what he said, a few stray tears still falling on occasion.
'I took control...'
'I didn't know you could do that.'
'I can. But I don't.'
'Why?'
'It hurts me.
I can only do it so many times, my soul fades just a little bit more each time I do.'
'Then why?'
'...
I couldn't let you hurt yourself for something I told you to do.'
There were no exchange of words after that.
The other voices were so quiet now that he could only hear them when he concentrated.
'I'm glad you're ok.'
'We love you'
'It's okay.'
'It's gonna be okay now.'
'You're safe.'
'You're perfect.'
'We all love you.'
'It's okay.'
He focused only on what the voices were saying now.
It was calming.
And so now he sat, knees up to his chest, back against the wall, head leaning back looking up at the roof above, his eyes gently closed.
He slowed his breathing till it was normal once again, no stutters, flinches, or pain. He liked it like this.
The dark was all encompassing and comforting, he loved it.
Soon his tears had dried, his mind was devoid of any thoughts, and his heart felt light again.
He needed to cry.
He had just DONE something horrible.
BEEN through something horrible.
He needed to cry.
He WAS a child after all.
He was just a child who was thrown into a war before he could even live.
Before he could even experience life to the fullest.
And now.
It was time to take a break.
To forget about L'Manberg.
To forget about Tubbo.
To forget about Dream.
It was time to rest.
And for the first time in months,
He felt like he could.
.