((WARNING: The point of this thread is a suicide attempt, and I tried to make it disturbing. If that might bother you, avoid it.))


Persi was bad at talking. That was obvious, frequently; he never managed to talk to anyone without offending them. Irri had been an exception, but then he'd had to be, and anyway he was gone now. Which was also Persi's fault, though in this case instead of it being because he was bad at talking it was because he was a coward. Or a wimp, or... something. They all kind of overlapped.

Will you swear on your life

Persi was, however, good at listening. Or at hearing, anyway; listening would involve learning and obeying, instead of just being aware, and Persi wasn't nearly good enough at either of those. But he could hear, and he could remember. Much better than he'd prefer to, recently, with the way his head would not shut up about whatever was stuck in it, but he couldn't get that angry, because at least there was one thing he was good at.

That no one will cry

And, occasionally, Persi could learn too. Only intellectual things, which was not a lot of use most of the time while he still sucked at anything physical, but it was probably the most important. Physical things only mattered while you were alive and had a body, which was really a very small span of time compared to eternity. Which would have been a nice thought, if Persi wasn't going to be spending that eternity in hell where being able to learn that he would be spending it in hell wouldn't matter anyway.

Can't breath until you choke

At least, he probably would. That was what made being able to learn worth it. Ignorance was (temporary) bliss, but knowledge was the opportunity to change reality. Persi had learned that mutants were sin, and had to go to hell, much better than he'd like and probably not as well as he should have, considering he'd then gone and become a mutant anyway. But he'd also learned that God was loving, and merciful, and that any sinner could be forgiven if they believed, and repented, and cleansed enough of their sin to prove that they were willing to. Persi thought he believed and repented enough--at least, he couldn't more--so all that was left was cleansing.

Gotta laugh when you're the joke

Actually, cleansing was all that had been left for a while. Persi had been shying away from it, because the only way to cleanse sin (of the level he needed to, anyway) was pain. Sinning deserved hell, but God would--maybe--spare sinners from the actual Hell if they suffered enough on Earth. Persi really didn't want to suffer, but he was going to no matter what, so it was smarter to suffer now and hopefully not forever later. He hadn't yet, because he didn't want to, because pain hurt and Persi was a coward, but he still knew he should. And, for some reason, God seemed to like him; most of the time, as far as Persi knew, God didn't interfere and let sinners make their own choices, but Persi didn't see what else almost dying and then being in constant (if minor) pain for weeks could mean except that God wanted him to prove himself. Refusing that order would be--Persi didn't even know what. Something far beyond sin; he didn't think there was a word for it.

Life is beautiful

Besides, what else was he going to do? Persi couldn't do anything while he was alive. He wasn't smart, he wasn't strong, he wasn't wise, he wasn't anything of any use to anyone. Instead he was a drain on everyone's time and energy and (currently the Mansion's) resources, and then even more of a drain because they had to pretend that they liked him and thought he was worth it all anyway. So he wasn't any use, he would never be any use, he was a leech on everyone around, and God had given him the clearest order possible to die. The conclusion was pretty obvious.

Will you swear on your life

So Persi waited until he'd figured out where people normally were at what times so he could sneak past without them noticing. This would have been much easier if he'd had his own room, but he didn't, and just because people would be relieved not to deal with him didn't mean they'd dare admit or act on it... especially Aiden, with how worried he always was about being a good student and whatever. So Persi waited for everyone to be asleep, snuck down to the kitchen for a (dull; he'd learned that would hurt more) knife and matches, and then out to the woods. The matches were stuck in a pocket for the walk, so that they wouldn't shake with his hand and make noise someone could hear. Anyone with that good hearing could probably hear his heartbeat anyway, but heartbeats were normal; rattling match boxes weren't.

That no one will cry

By the time he found a large enough clearing in the woods (and had gotten himself completely turned around and lost; for all Persi knew he may have circled the Mansion) everything else had been overwhelmed by cold. Persi hadn't wanted to ruin more clothes than he had to when they could go to someone that actually needed them, so he was just wearing a tee shirt and shorts, and they were not at all sufficient for October nights. That wasn't the point, though, so instead of considering going back for warmer clothes Persi kicked everything out of the middle of the clearing, then dragged sticks and leaves back into it. Getting them to catch fire took a while, mostly because the majority of the leaves were more damp than not, but it worked eventually. Persi dropped the box, then grabbed for it again and scattered the remaining matches through his pockets.

Just open your eyes

That was... easy, relatively. And then he spent several minutes kneeling next to the fire and staring while it smoldered, before remembering he was supposed to be actually accomplishing something for once.

I know things that you don't

Remembering probably technically made it easier, relative to forgetting and not ever doing anything, but Persi was still shaking and his thoughts were clinging even harder to the song to shy away from what he was supposed to do. He didn't bother blaming shaking on the cold; it might be or might not, and it didn't really matter.

I've done things that you won't

He should pay attention... but Persi couldn't do that and make himself move, so hopefully God would forgive him. The entire point of all this was that God was merciful, wasn't it? It had to be.

There's nothing like

Persi had never liked English classes, but he'd still heard things in them. It was difficult not to hear things in class, when he didn't dare sleep through it. And he'd heard a story once, that one of his classmates had written. There'd been the main character, and the character's brother, and the character's brother's boyfriend that no one liked, so they separated the boyfriend from the brother, so the brother killed himself. And the main character noticed that the brother had cut down his arms, and it was the most painful way to die. Persi was pretty sure that came with a 'of the ways the brother had access to' attached, and he wasn't sure the girl writing the story actually knew what she was talking about, but it was still the closest Persi had to knowing what hurt most, so that was what he did.

a trail of blood

God. That was what he tried to do. It hurt, and Persi only got one arm cut most of the way before dropping the knife on the ground. It took several seconds for him to get past the pain--not away from it, hurting was the goal, he couldn't afford to forget that now--and pick the knife back up.

to find your way back home

That... presented a problem. He couldn't hold the knife with the same hand he had to cut, and he needed to cut both arms. He ended up cutting across the arm he'd already cut while he tried to get his thoughts past the song and pain to figure out how to make the knife work again. Eventually he tried holding the knife between his knees, which made a much sloppier set of cuts, but they were cuts and they were bleeding and that counted, and Persi was getting dizzy enough he wasn't entirely aware of where he left the knife when he let himself lay down.

Will you swear on your life

He also wasn't entirely aware of the pain. That was a problem. And there was... something he'd figured out to solve that, only he couldn't remember what.

That no one will cry

He still felt cold. But it wasn't as close anymore.

At my funeral?

Maybe the cold was supposed to be it. It wasn't working.

Life is beautiful

...Oh. Not cold; fire. Opening his eyes wasn't difficult, but Persi had to force them to focus to figure out where the fire was. Not far from him, fortunately; he could reach for it without moving other than his arm.

Will you swear on your life

There. Now he could feel pain again. And he hadn't screamed yet; mostly because he couldn't, now, and he was crying louder than he'd like, but Persi was still kind of proud of himself anyway.

That no one will cry

And... there really wasn't anything more he could do, except try to stay awake so he'd hurt more. That didn't last very long either, but Persi tried.

At my funeral?

Hopefully God would be merciful.

Life is beautiful.

WARNING: HIGH LEVEL COARSE LANGUAGE!

He didn't know exactly what made him realise. Some twinge, a whisper in the back of his mind. A beat cop's sense for trouble. Something was wrong.

It wasn't in the mansion. He knew that much. If it was inside an alarm would have been tripped. His eyebrows drew together. He pulled himself out a window and onto the roof. He needed a 360 degree view.

It didn't take long. Radiant light made the smoke stand out. Cafas wasn't sure why it worried him so much. It wouldn't be the first time someone had been out camping in the forest.

Check it.

He dropped from the roof to the ground. A brief memory of a broken arm flashed by, quickly replaced by urgent thoughts.

Paranoia. No... This is serious.

His mind said walk.

His gut said run.

Cafas was a fighter.

His gut won.

He hit the edge of the forest, relying on memory. He didn't even know how far into the forest the fire was. Twigs snatched at his clothes, clawed at his hair, tore at his face.

He stumbled on a root, caught himself on a tree, and spotted a glow. The smell... All too familiar. He wanted to retch, but held it down. He already knew what he'd find.

Cafas entered the clearing.

"Fuck."

...

"FUCK! Fuck fuck fuck..."

He all but flew to the prone body. Threw himself to his knees as he got close, slid to Persi's side.

"F..."

He pulled the boy's hand from the fire, his other hand fumbling at his neck, trying to find a pulse. He couldn't find anything. He just couldn't tell. It was above his training.

"No no no no no no... Come on man, you can't be!" The wrists didn't give him much hope. The blood, the knife.

I don't know what to do. I have to know what to do. What good am I if I can't save him. what good is training. I have to know... I don't know.

Something wet made it's way down Cafas' cheek. More followed.

"You're gonna... I'm gonna... Just please be alive... please."

His shirt was off and shredded. Strips wound around the boys arms. He didn't know if it would help.

"I gotta.. I... Doc... Doc will know."

Adrenaline coursed through his system. He picked up the boy. The limp body seemed weightless. He stood. He ran. Ran faster than he ever had before.

...

He burst into the infirmary with tears running down his cheeks and panic written all over his face.

"DOC! DOC! GOD DOC HELP ME!"

The healer was in the room seconds later. He's clearly been sleeping. Anyone in their right mind would have been. Small wonder it was Cafas and hopefully Persi who were awake.

"I found him. He.. I... Help him please!"

The healer stripped the makeshift bandages and examined Persi's arms. He expertly checked for a pulse, checked Persi was breathing. Everything Cafas' hadn't known how to do.

"He's alive Cafas. He needs a real hospital. There's only so much I can do."

He'd never considered that before. He'd always simply assumed the doctor to be capable of anything.

"I can't replace the blood, and I'm afraid I can't handle all of the wounds. I will do what I can."

"I know Doc... I... Did he do it himself?"

His silence was all Cafas needed. Doctor/patient confidentiality was all well and good, but DocProf would have told him if it had been an attack.

He sent Cafas away while he worked. A few minutes later He brought him back in.

"I've done what I can. I've repaired the worst of his arms and stitched and bound what I could, but he wont live without blood, and I'm afraid that's just something we don't have."

Cafas nodded. "I'll take him to hospital."

"Perhaps an ambulance?"

"You ever met an ambulance that took corners half so well as some of the cars in the garage?"

Though he clearly didn't like it the Doc let Cafas go with Persi.

He ran for the garage. He knew no one at the mansion much liked their car being used without permission. They were going to have to suck it up though. He picked the fastest looking car in there.

Cafas bundled Persi onto the passenger seat and fastened the seatbelt around him. More to stop him falling than for safety.

...

Gravel flew up behind them as Cafas accelerated out of the gate. The tyres bit the road and the gas pedal was introduced to the floor.

"What the fuck are you doing! Everything we've done and you pull this! You ungrateful little C- Fuck you get out of my way arse-hole!"

Cafas overtook on the shoulder and swung the car back into the lane.

"I mean, what the hell were you thinking! Did you even consider anyone else! What about Aiden you selfish prick! What about me! I don't get it, why the hell did you do it! Why!?! Because I REALLY don't FUCKING get it Persi!"

Tyres squealed around the corner. He'd picked up some red and blues at some point. He hadn't noticed. That was going to be a whole lot of paperwork.

"Do you not understand that people care about you, that you're hurting them? For what? The coward's way out? If this is some God bullshit I swear Persi I am going to find the mother-fuckers who indoctrinated you with it and I'm going to rip their heart out through their arse-holes!"

More red and blues were joining. He only had to outrun them a mile or so. The traffic was picking up closer to the hospital. He was having to weave between cars.

"If I wasn't worried you were going to die anyway, I'd bloody kill you! I mean, I thought I'd at least taught you more than... than... THIS!"

SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEECHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

He'd nearly T-boned a cab. The cab barely seemed to notice. Cafas took off again. He could see the hospital.

...

He burst into A&E as the police were pulling into the parking lot. "You gotta help him! He tried to kill himself! He cut his wrists and he needs blood now!"

From there it was out of his hands. The Nurses and doctors took Persi from him and the police tackled him to the floor and proceeded to attempt to cuff him. He couldn't even summon the energy to break the cuffs. He just wept. Anger, fear, confusion, all mingling, and above all failure.

I couldn't even protect a kid I cared about from himself... I failed him...