With magic on her side, Mami was sure things would be fine even if the girl did jump but, hell, that outcome was one she’d like to avoid at all costs, if possible. After all, this wasn’t a witch’s barrier…whoever this girl was, she’d likely remember anything out of the ordinary.
“Please… just come down and talk to me?” She pleads, a frown tugging at her lips. “You don’t have to do this! Everything will be alright but you need to calm down.”
Why did she have to talk to a stranger? Why didn't she need to do this? "Y-you can't say that--you don't know anything, nothing's ever all right!" Sayaka shouted back, grimacing as her hands clenched the edges of her shirt in bunches, knuckles about white as she stared down towards the ground. It was a scary drop, of course. But, at the moment, it seemed...very worth it, to just...take a good step forward right about now.
Sayaka hardly heard that demand. She was awfully high up. How she had gotten out here undetected in the first place was a question to beg, but later. For now the girl stood at the edge of the tall building's ledge, a heavy moment's mental push taking her out here in the first place. It wasn't as if this was the first known incidence of Sayaka Miki pulling a stunt like this. Though the danger each time was real, knowing the unsound girl would really carry it through if she wasn't talked to.
"Sometimes I have dreams about this whole other existence...I'm there too. But I'm healthy, and I'm prettier and more popular, I even...go to school, with other kids. I had friends, too..."
"I was...a hero. I fought bad monsters, and I protected the weak and innocent, I protected my friends too. Sometimes bad people came up, but I was strong and I stood up for myself anyway."
"How do these dreams usually end?"
"I...don't remember."
"I see."
Sayaka turned over in her hospital bed, pulling the sheets more over herself, careful of her IV. The usual sign the man wouldn't be getting any more out of her today. With a small adjusting of his glasses, he stood up. "It was a pleasure as usual, speaking with you, Miki-san. Have a good rest, okay?"
"Yessir..."
She didn't really...want to mention the truth to the man. As blunt as Sayaka could be with people, when talking about her dreams and daydreams...she didn't like giving away all the details. She didn't want to mention the depression, the bad things she saw in them. She didn't want to tell him the truth about what she remembered of her dreams just before waking up.
I'm usually dead.
Frowning a little bit, Sayaka shut her eyes. Didn't seem she could win either way. She wasn't out of this hospital yet either. She didn't mind this place, she just...she hated being here too long. She hated being restricted to one place, to lay still half the day. She hated having to be watched 24/7 in case she started to hurt herself. Even if that was her daily life now, in or out of the hospital.
Avoiding medication too long as dangerous. It didn't help that her folks had been too in between things to properly notice while in her volunteer caretaker's absence, the number of pills in the medication bottles and pill holder had been erratic, often times not diminishing at a normal rate at all.
If at all.
Sayaka had stopped taking her medication at some point. She's not supposed to. She knew she wasn't supposed to, but once she skips a day or two, it just...becomes systematic somehow, unless it's caught and stopped. But, of course, the worst consequences were starting to come to fruition, especially today. No one was home yet. That would explain why Sayaka was able to sit in her room unattended, fingernails repeatedly scratching and picking at her arms. She didn't even notice it really, while her focus had been concentrated on the lights and movements of the television screen nearby meant to provide her with some stimulation and distraction while she was inside.
"Ah..." She couldn't even notice it. Her pain receptors had ceased again, the long chronic damage in her nervous system flaring up again as any sensation of stinging pain she may have felt before simply faded, leading her to believe that she was fine. Of course, she was far from fine. That annoying feeling of something under her skin was back. It was back a lot lately. That was what the medication was supposed to prevent.
Yet here she was, believing she was picking at whatever it was bothering her, crawling under her skin in such an unsavory, unpleasant fashion. Her fingernails scraped to a point of reddening her skin, further until she was breaking it entirely, the protection her layers of skin were supposed to be providing not enough to stand against constant scratching and digging. Even when she looked right at her arms, her attention seemed to be...elsewhere. Whatever it was she was seeing, it wasn't bleeding, scratched arms. Maybe in her eyes she looked fine. Regardless, she was harming herself, and she didn't even realize it.
She didn't realize it until her mind finally allowed it. She went too far. She left her room and picked up scissors, carelessly left where she could easily find them. She opened the scissors, sitting down on the floor calmly and she simply begun to run the blade over her skin. Not in a clean line. She scraped the length of the blade across her skin firmly, causing a patch of red, messily broken skin here and there. Grimacing merely out of discomfort, she could swear there was still something there. Something itching, just underneath her skin. What was it? What does it want?
"Please, leave..." If she lets it out, will it leave?
She places the point of the blade against her skin firmly, before making a slow cut down her arm, growing unsettling firmer and deeper as she went along. At least, until she had gone too deep for her body to continue blocking out such sensation. Too late, by then. How much blood had her body lost?
Hissing a bit, she blinked, noticing the red moisture coating much of her arm by now. It stained her sleeves, her clothes, the floor. Dropping the scissors, she stared at the floor with a subtly panicked expression, she held her bleeding arm to her torso, overcome by the feeling of weakness she was suddenly so aware of. T-too...much blood.
She could faintly pick up on the sound of a door opening. There was a shout of distress, but by then everything as starting to sound muffled, more and more twisted and mangled. An onslaught of tunnel vision hit while she felt hands seize her by the shoulders, trying to reach for her arm and inspect her. Weakly she panicked out of instinct and began to struggle, but there wasn't much she could do in her failing state.
In a matter of moments, Sayaka had collapsed onto her side, unconscious from a state of blood loss. Perhaps more, thanks to her frayed mental state. They'd find out soon, given the authorities had already been called, and the ambulance was already screaming its way to her home.
I need to stop leaving this blog for long periods of time because each time I return I'm forced to explain my muse's disappearance with something terrible
