Vengeance's Bunk

Vengeance walked intO her cabin, shoulders slumped and face fallen into a face that showed a broken girl. In the past while, her mind had been overcome with worries, theories, and self loathing so much that she had come to her wits end. And sitting on her bed now, dagger clutched in one hand, and a bottle containing an unrecognizable substance in the other, she held a battle within herself. There were so many reasons to live, yet so many to die. She'd needed help, and needed it for months, and her boyfriend, Gabriel, had given her just that, though he would never know. But in the pSt weeks, the help and strange happiness the boy had brought had cOme to it's end. Happy, she was happy with him. But helped. She wasn't, and her mind was slowly killing her, and now she was needing to decide. Die now...or break later.

Setting the bottle beside her, she studied the dagger, and felt it's point. When she pressed it to her finger, it brought blood quickly, and she knew it wouldn't be hard to push it through her own chest. But if she did that, she would be giving up, and quite frankly she didn't like the idea of being a wuss like that. So many thoughts had been racing through her mind, though, like the one that had urged her to get the bottle full of poison, and the one that had drove her into buying the floorlength black ball gown stashed under her bed. Half of her mind wished to live, to have somethig to live for, but half of herself longed to find out what waited for her in death, just to see if it's better. And there she sat, dagger in hand, poison available, and all her thoughts racing to how stupid she was to buy the prom dress hidden beneath her bunk, no matter how hopeful she secretly was, though she didn't want to go, and how beautiful it was

Pushing her sleeve to her forearm, she fell back to the old resort she had. She pressed the dull, flat side of the knife against her skin and tilted it up onto it's side. The blade pushed against her skin, parallel to one of her previously healed scars. She sat there, slowly applying pressure until the blade edge brought a small line of blood. Then pushed further until it slide into her arm, like she was butter, before pulling out the dagger and applying pressure to the cut with her thumb. The warm liquid oozed against her skin as she closed her eyes, wishing she hadn't resorted to this yet again.

After a deep breath, she moved the dagger away from her and pulled a foot to the bed and looked down at her wound. It was still bleeding, though not as much as it had been. Her mind whirled at the realization that she really had done it again, and she didn't feel terrible about it. As she watched the blood lessen, she desperately wished for a hug.

With a deep breath, Venge moves away and wraps a piece of fabric tightly around it before wrapping her own arms around herself and crying silently. Her mind fueded as her fingers itched itched for the dagger but her wits screamed no.