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Waking up. He's sick of it. It happens every day and without his consent. It violently drags him back to life from the depths of his mind's horrible dreamscape. Even with the terrible nightmares that torture him every night, he hates waking up from them even more. At least in the nightmares he knows something bad will happen. He knows he’ll look in the mirror and not see himself. He’ll see his mother, or the horrible monster he’d become with pink scales and sharp teeth. He knows the gems will leave him, he knows that the shards of Jasper’s shattered gem will be in his palm, wet from rain and tears.
But real life was even worse. Unlike the wild scenarios that ran wild in his dreams, the real world was real. There was no danger anymore, just him and his fragmented mind tormenting himself and everyone around him every day. There was nothing he could fight or run away from.
He should be grateful. The gems and his dad have spent so much time making sure he doesn’t break again. They’ve been here with him since he’d become what he knows he truly is. It’s been a week. He tells himself he should get over it, that he needs to stop holding everyone back. They tell him that his feelings matter and that he’s not a burden, but he knows that his health is hurting them. He noticed how Connie’s developed bags under her eyes, how Pearl stops herself before every sentence she says, scared she’ll set him off. Amethyst barely jokes with him anymore. Not after she made a remark about Steven destroying the house, and like the brat he is, Steven freaked out.
They’re scared of him. They walk on eggshells around him. He’s making them suffer. They don’t know how to deal with him. They never have.
He remembers when he’d first started feeling like his emotions didn’t matter as long as others were happy. That stupid test. He made them go out of their way to make that whole trial chamber for him, just so he could feel better about himself. It broke him, in a way. To hear that they didn’t know what to do with him. They were trying their hardest, but they didn’t know how to raise a human child.
Not entirely human, he supposes. As of recently, he’d never felt more alien in his life. But maybe he wouldn’t feel this way, and none of this would’ve even happened if he had just gotten a normal childhood. He’s a gem, sure, but it’s like his Dad didn’t even try.
Why would he do this to me?
Stop. Why are you trying to blame him for the way you’ve fucked up your own life.
He stops himself, holding his breath for a moment. He thinks, what if he just stopped breathing. Could he hold his breath until he suffocated, or would he stop as soon as he felt the hot burning sensation in his lungs?
He can’t kill himself. He’s already done so many horrible things, hurt his family just like his mother did. He can’t just leave them like she did too. He deserves to suffer, as long as they don’t. Even in his self deprecating mind, he understands they’ll be hurt without him. He’s seen how they all are without Rose. They’re moving on, but grief doesn’t just magically disappear.
God, his mom really ruined everything for him, didn’t she? He can’t even kill himself without following in her footsteps.
He wonders if it was easy for her, knowing she was going to leave everyone, knowing how she’d hurt them. He supposes she was used to that, though.
He never thought he’d be jealous of her. She got out of this miserable life painlessly. He wishes he could just die like that, no pain and no trace of him left behind.
If he was going to kill himself, he’d probably warp to a cliff very far away, so they hopefully wouldn’t find his dead body. He’d probably bring something to shatter his gem with. He saw what happened when his gem was ripped out, and he certainly doesn’t want to live forever as an apathetic, half blind pink version of himself. He’s not sure if his gem half would separate if his human half died, but he just wants to cover all his bases. After he shattered his gem, he’d use his last bit of strength to slip off the ledge.
He imagines it, his last moments in the air, knowing he can finally part from his pain.
It’s a grim fantasy, but it brings him comfort, in an odd way. Like some may fantasize about being rich and famous some day, he dreams of dying; it’s really no different.
The sun is rising now, he has no idea when he even woke up. He’s used to this though. It's a nice part of his routine, to spend an hour wallowing in misery before the gems inevitably come in to ask him how he slept. He’ll say he slept fine, they’ll tell him he can always be honest with them. He won’t care. He’s horrible at lying, he knows it, but it’s not like he can just tell the gems he had horrific nightmares all night and then fantasized about killing himself until they came. No, he’d rather stay in this little routine. They’ll know he’s lying, but they want to give him space, try not push and make him freak out.
He doesn’t deserve their sympathy. He knows he’s hurting them by not opening up, but he’s used to it at this point. Maybe this is how his mother felt. She knew she hurt them, but she just couldn’t find herself to care any more. She’d hurt so many people, so much, that it didn’t even matter anymore.
They really are similar. It hurts—Burns him to think about it.
He can feel his cheeks tingling with a glowing pink hue. This always sets him off. He’s the one who’s thinking about it, he can only blame himself for being this way. He doesn’t want to think about how much he’s followed in his mother’s footsteps, how he’s done things even she would never do. But his mind always seems to get him here. He shattered a gem. He murdered somebody, without a second thought. Maybe he could forgive himself, he brought Jasper back anyways, it was an accident. But he wanted to… he was going to shatter White Diamond. Like the shatterer he is, he tried to kill her, to smash her gem into a thousand shards. And the worst part is, he struggled to feel bad for it. She deserved it. After what she did to him.
No one deserves that.
For the first time since he was brought back to wretched consciousness this morning, he moved. He dug his nails into his arms, squeezing as hard as he could. Why was he like this? He used to be so righteous, he thought he knew what was right and wrong, and he thought he’d never cross those lines. He’d served his purpose long ago and now he was just a disgusting monster wearing the skin of who he used to be.
He glances down when feels something wet dripping down his arms. Blood.
There's no blood when you shatter a gem. Just you and the fragments of what they used to be.
There’s deep gashes in his still illuminated pink skin, getting blood on his blanket and sheets. The burning pain grounds him, clearing his mind as the pink glow dissipates, leaving the room dark with only the soft rays of sun shining on his nest of misery. He stares at the wounds, they burn, but it almost feels good. His thoughts are so quiet now.
Why did that feel so good?
He recalls to when he’d been shaving before he proposed to Connie. He’d nicked himself with the razor, it burned for a bit before he licked his finger and applied it to the cut. It healed in an instant. He didn't think anything of it at the time. Why would he?
He looks back at his arms. His body’s natural healing capabilities speed up the healing process of small injuries and save him from fatal ones, but he can also heal instantly with his spit. Small injuries are basically nothing to him.
No one will notice.
In a motion that makes his head spin, he sits up. Feeling more motivation than he has in weeks, he gets up from his bed. It’s still early enough, the gems won’t try to bother for an hour or two. He has to do this now.
He steps down the stairs as softly as possible. He shivers as he steps into the main part of the house. It’s still in the process of being repaired, Bismuth works fast so it’s mostly back to its former glory despite the tarp or two covering some holes. Which don't help much from keeping the cold out. He finds himself staring at it. He did that.
He remembers when he first got back to the house after his incident. Well, more like when he’d woken up on the couch after passing out in the cluster’s hand. He had no memory of how he'd gotten there. Lion must’ve portaled him there. (God, when will he stop making everyone and everything go out of their way for him). Everyone was relieved he was still alive after sleeping for what he was told was 18 hours (he wishes they weren’t). His throat had burned, he could barely get out a sound. He was glad at the moment, though, he didn’t really want to talk at all.
They all took their turns apologizing to him, the gems, his dad, Connie. He’d felt horrible. He’s the one who murdered Jasper, tried to shatter White Diamond, destroyed the house, fucked everything up, and they were the ones apologizing to him. He’d told them it was okay, they told him it wasn’t. He didn’t know what to say to that. He stared at the gaping hole in the house. He immediately felt the tingle of pink glow permeate throughout him. They told him to calm down, that it wasn’t his fault, that it didn’t matter to them. He freaked out.
It’s almost embarrassing to remember, he wishes that he could just control his emotions, not blow up on everyone all the time. But it’s just become worse. He’s been turning pink more often than before he terrorized everyone as the physical manifestation of the monster he’s become. He was so angry all the time and nothing was helping.
Finally, he tore his eyes away from the front of the house, heading towards the bathroom. He shut the door behind him harder than he’d wanted to, pausing for a moment to make sure the gems didn’t hear him. Determining that they weren't coming, he moved towards the sink. He glanced at the shattered glass that used to be the mirror. He’d broken it in one of his many tantrums, none of the gems had noticed yet since they didn’t have any reason to come into the bathroom. As much as it brought him shame to see the physical consequences of his outbursts, he was glad he didn’t have to stare at his reflection.
He leans down and grabs a piece of the shattered glass that had fallen onto the ground. It’s sharp and hurts his fingertips as he grabs it carelessly. He knows he should probably wash it off before he brings it to his arm, but he can’t be bothered. He doesn’t deserve a clean sharp blade slicing through his skin. So he gets a dirty broken piece of glass that’s only there because of him.
He presses the sharp edge against his forearm. The bathtub catches his attention, where he'd been just two weeks ago, holding Jasper’s broken gem in the water with tears mixing in with the rain water soaking his face.
He closes his eyes and swipes.
A burning pain immediately hits his senses and he lets out a small hissing sound through clenched teeth. He looks down at his shaking arm, there's blood filling the cut already, quickly dripping down to his hand. It hurts. It hurts a lot.
But he can’t help but marvel at it. He did this completely by his own choice. He had control and it felt amazing.
He notices how the memories of Jasper’s shattering immediately went away. It was like he cleared his mind with the flip of a switch. He stared at it a little longer. He planned on healing it but he just wanted to enjoy the sensation a little longer. Blood was starting to gather in a tiny puddle by his feet. He might have gone a tiny bit too far, the cut was big enough to need stitches and was getting blood everywhere. But he found it hard to care that much.
Light peering in from under the door catches his attention, it must be getting lighter outside. He should really clean all this up before the gems come to check on him.
Glancing at the strange salvation on his arm one last time, he licked his finger and brought it to the wound. It stung for a moment before it closed, replaced with untouched, healed skin right before his eyes. The sight made him sad, in some weird way. He wondered if this made him truly crazy. He was hurting himself on purpose, that’s what crazy people do, right?
He knows that's not true. But he isn’t like the people who hurt themselves because they’re hurting inside, because it’s the only way they know how to express their pain. He’s not like them. They have real issues. He’s just doing this to clear his head. All he wants is a small break from the constant torture that just comes with being alive.
He’s not fine, he knows that. But this isn’t anything to worry about. This is normal. Cleaning up his own blood off the floor is normal. Putting the shard of glass covered in bloody fingerprints into his pocket in case he needs it again is normal. Telling the gems he’s fine even though they all know he’s really not is normal.
He’s normal.