One slash with a claw against the forearm. The crimson blood trickled slowly out of the new wound and fell off of his arm, staining the carpeted floor beneath him. Tears slowly slipped out of his eyes and off of his cheek to mix with the blood stains. A muffled sob was the only thing that filled the deafening silence of the empty McCall house and the darkness of closet that engulfed the pet and hid him.Â
The world is full of anomalies and mistakes. Sometimes, those errors in the grand scheme of things can be easily fixed or repaired over time. Other times, those mistakes are simply something that we have to live with. On rare occasions, it would just be best for the world if that error simply died and left forever. Those rare cases that can only find escape in death are not wanted and most of the time, they know that they are not wanted. These rare errors are a waste of time, waste of breath, and a waste of space. Sometimes, they would simply choose to ignore the fact that they were a mistake and they could live their life thinking that the feeling would go away. But when the problem is brought up over and over again, itâs hard to ignore that their existence was a mistake and theyâd have to take their life to make the lives of others better.
Mal knew he was a terrible person and a mistake. He was the grand mistake of mistakes in the grand scheme and he knew it. His masters made sure he knew it. He was a worthless piece of crap that everyone was eagerly waiting for to die. The key to his mastersâ abuse wasnât the physical pain, it was the emotional and mental pain. The insults and talk about how he was never going to be nothing more than something that can easily be disposed like a piece of paper. How he could easily be left to die for and no one would care. No one. The pet was still living his life with the words implanted in his brain that he was never going to be wanted and all he would ever receive is pity. When he escaped, it seemed like he would be free from the abuse. Free from the thoughts of being a disposable test dummy. But those thoughts lingered in his mind each and every day.Â
Another slash to the forearm, his mind stopping the wounds from being healed.
Kindness was a new sting his heart felt when he was given it. It was easy to show kindness to others but Mal knew he didnât deserve this new life. This life of freedom and kindness that made him feel a new kind of torture that he never expected. The familiar feeling of abuse was something he preferred than the kindness of Beacon Hills and his friends. Scott. Raph. Stiles. Bryant. He didnât deserve the kind people in his life. Mistakes did not deserve friendship or happiness. He deserved abuse. He knew he deserved abused And now, he was the only one who could truly give himself the abuse to feel like he was truly being what he was.
His clawed hand hovered above his neck, ready to cut his throat and take his own life to make the lives of others better.
He couldnât contain the knowledge of being a mistake anymore. Was he truly even wanted by his masters? What if he was allowed to escape because he was no longer wanted? He wasnât good enough for them. He never would be. What about his friends? Maybe he was just someone they pitied. He was a waste of their time, space, and air. He was never truly wanted. Not by his masters or even his friends. Isaac was right. No one wanted him.Â
His hand was about to drop on his neck and end his life but his sobs grew louder and he couldnât pull through, slashing the center of his chest instead. He curled into a ball in the puddle of his own blood, waiting to bleed out completely. Waiting to be no one. Waiting to make everyoneâs lives better through his death.
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