Oh god.
It won't stop bleeding.
That delicious candy color lined his hands, his wrists, running down the length of his sleeves. It dripped curves down his scarred neck and into the back of his hood, flaking those small white lines with his own color. He sat in his apartment, alone, in the middle of the room while shifting on the floor to reach out, reached out for a towel on the counter, but crumpled on the carpet in the attempt.
A pair of pliers laid not far off, tossed haphazardly to the side as soon as the splintering sensation had ripped through his skull. He held his own hand, running wet fingers over more of his palm. His hands ran rudely through the coarse of his hair, over his horn, and the remains of the other one. He didn't know it would hurt so bad.
"get it out, get it OUT."
A soft, quake of a breath, broken, weak. He held his breath, holding his own face, broken voice attempting to continue. His blood fingers tracing over the chipped bone, and he pried at some of the weaker side, twisting the material, forcing it out of that cranium and dropping the extension to the floor. The once candycorn color was now drenched in whatever murky colors managed from his skull, tracing down the front of his cranium. He grabbed his nearby laptop, a humanoid resemblance of his old husktop. He dragged it over, opening it open, getting online. He had to distract himself.
What the fuck did he just do.
