[SIDESTORY] Morbit Oneshots

[skinstealer]

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As Usual, As Always- 2018

Ringor Mortis, Punch Clock Animal/General Morbit

CW: Abuse implications, gore, negative self talk

Derry begins its morning routine.

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It’s dark here, just like always. You’re not scared of the dark, or what comes with it, but it makes your skin feel even worse than usual- it’s too tight, too constricting...Lina always calls you a baby for complaining about it, even if they do the same thing, all the time! It’s different with them, though...

I’m not a kid. I don’t know the right words sometimes, but I’m not a kid! But no one ever listens to me...

You stagger to your feet, trying to ignore how wrong it all felt. The weight wasn’t right, the shape didn’t fit, the feeling of a heartbeat reminding you just how much you don’t belong here in this skin.

Hunger gnaws at your stomach, and you just know that Harvey will be disappointed if you don’t eat. You don’t like it, you never do...maybe a little , but it’s one of those things. One of those things that got people calling you names.

Derry’s so gross, Derry’s fucked up in the head, Derry shouldn’t be allowed to do anything because it’s so, so wrong!

You sniffle and wipe your face, trying to shove the feelings of shame down.

You walk to the kitchen, all wobbly. There’s glass on the floor, and everyone would be so mad if you ended up cutting up your feet again. You didn't mind much at all, really. Cuts don’t hurt too bad. People yelling at you though, that was the worst.

I’m going to mess it up again, I’ll do it again and, everyone will be so mad...

As usual, the fridge’s contents were limited to raw meat, some of it looking really really rotten. You’ve eaten stuff like that plenty of times, but today you had other options. The last time you tried to cook it, you burned your hand...You pull out a chunk of someone’s arm and take a bite.

Thank you for letting me eat you. I’m sorry that it probably hurt a lot, but it’s over now! You don’t have to worry anymore. You’re kinda lucky-

You choke it down, wishing you had some water or something. It’s so much worse going down without it, but you don’t have much choice in the matter. A voice cuts through your inner monologue, high pitched and grating.

“Where’s my demon, where’s she hiding?”  

You can hear her coming, only just barely able to pick out footsteps in your dissociative haze. It gets harder and harder to focus as she grows closer, and you know that eventually, all that’s left will be the dull feeling of getting what you deserve.

“Cheeeelsea, come on out...I’ve had a long, long day.”

Sometimes you forget that she’s talking to you, using a name that isn’t yours, touching a body that isn’t yours, causing pain that is yours, and no one else’s.

She looms over you, smile wide and twisted. You stare back up at her, feeling the emptiness wash over you, as usual, as always, as always usual.

Everything stays the same, with you.

Everything.