alliesalvatore
Oct. 3, 2012, 6:51 p.m.
Death Clock Metaphor
Clock Ticks
Blaine has been feeling like nothing is really worth it anymore. His only companions are an incessantly ticking clock and a silver razor blade he likes to play with. TRIGGER WARNING.
T - Words: 532 - Last Updated: Oct 03, 2012 912 0 4 0 Categories: Angst, Characters: Blaine Anderson, Tags: OMG CREYS,
Author's Notes: Mentions of self-harm, blood, and attempted suicide. If it triggers or makes you upset in any way, please, close this window. I'm not really sure how to rate this, ops.
The clock is mocking him.
He knows it sounds stupid but he is sure that the constant ticking noises are made to irritate him, to make fun of the fact that time is passing. Time is passing and he's still there, stuck in high school. Still there, with Kurt rejecting his calls and not answering his messages. Still there, completely alone.
His only company is the clock, that keeps mocking him with its ticks and tocks, and a bright silver razor-blade, that reflects the light and sends random patterns over the wall. He takes a deep breath and it is more to stop himself from crying than a sign of resentment, really.
His hazel eyes are fixed on the floor, counting the drops of blood on the white marble. Every little drop, a part of himself that he let go. That he gave up.
He gave up a lot of things, to be quite honest, so he knows he's not the one to judge. He gave up his courage when he transferred to Dalton and gave up his safety when he transferred to McKinley. He gave up his virtues when he became popular. He gave up his own heart when he sent Kurt to New York.
He gave up himself so many years ago.
We watches the blood dripping on the white marble, in a mute rhythm that he can't help but compare to the mocking percussion of the clock. They are coordinated, playing together like a mortal symphony. The clock mocking, the blood dripping. They quite complete each other.
Blaine could make a really bad metaphor right now and compare the clock and blood to him and Kurt, but he doesn't do that. Partially because he can't quite grasp the exact reason of why this would be a metaphor in the first place, partially because his mind is starting to get hazy and his vision clouded.
He smiles. Hazy is a good feeling. He remembers it, back at his early high school days when he swallowed a bottle of pills and the haziness took over him. That time, Cooper arrived for an unexpected visit and found him on his bedroom floor. But not this time.
This time he was completely alone with his razor and the ticking clock, still mocking him for whatever reason that Blaine doesn't really understand, and it feels great. For a brief second he wonders if he shouldn't fight the fog that threatens to wash over him for good, but the thought leaves his mind as soon as it comes.
There is no one who could care, anyway.
His eyes close a few minutes later, razor falling to the floor into the drying pools of blood as he slips to the ground himself. His phone rings, but he can't bring himself to answer it. He just wants it to end.
So he lets himself slip into unconsciousness as the phone rings, Kurt's ID shining on the screen over a photo they took a few days before he moved. The clock keeps ticking; the timing perfect with the music coming out of his phone, as if it is laughing at the fact that Blaine can't answer when Kurt finally calls.
Even now when he's dying, the clock is still mocking him.
He knows it sounds stupid but he is sure that the constant ticking noises are made to irritate him, to make fun of the fact that time is passing. Time is passing and he's still there, stuck in high school. Still there, with Kurt rejecting his calls and not answering his messages. Still there, completely alone.
His only company is the clock, that keeps mocking him with its ticks and tocks, and a bright silver razor-blade, that reflects the light and sends random patterns over the wall. He takes a deep breath and it is more to stop himself from crying than a sign of resentment, really.
His hazel eyes are fixed on the floor, counting the drops of blood on the white marble. Every little drop, a part of himself that he let go. That he gave up.
He gave up a lot of things, to be quite honest, so he knows he's not the one to judge. He gave up his courage when he transferred to Dalton and gave up his safety when he transferred to McKinley. He gave up his virtues when he became popular. He gave up his own heart when he sent Kurt to New York.
He gave up himself so many years ago.
We watches the blood dripping on the white marble, in a mute rhythm that he can't help but compare to the mocking percussion of the clock. They are coordinated, playing together like a mortal symphony. The clock mocking, the blood dripping. They quite complete each other.
Blaine could make a really bad metaphor right now and compare the clock and blood to him and Kurt, but he doesn't do that. Partially because he can't quite grasp the exact reason of why this would be a metaphor in the first place, partially because his mind is starting to get hazy and his vision clouded.
He smiles. Hazy is a good feeling. He remembers it, back at his early high school days when he swallowed a bottle of pills and the haziness took over him. That time, Cooper arrived for an unexpected visit and found him on his bedroom floor. But not this time.
This time he was completely alone with his razor and the ticking clock, still mocking him for whatever reason that Blaine doesn't really understand, and it feels great. For a brief second he wonders if he shouldn't fight the fog that threatens to wash over him for good, but the thought leaves his mind as soon as it comes.
There is no one who could care, anyway.
His eyes close a few minutes later, razor falling to the floor into the drying pools of blood as he slips to the ground himself. His phone rings, but he can't bring himself to answer it. He just wants it to end.
So he lets himself slip into unconsciousness as the phone rings, Kurt's ID shining on the screen over a photo they took a few days before he moved. The clock keeps ticking; the timing perfect with the music coming out of his phone, as if it is laughing at the fact that Blaine can't answer when Kurt finally calls.
Even now when he's dying, the clock is still mocking him.
End Notes: Thanks for reading! Also, I might or might not make a companion piece to this. I'm still not sure if he died at the end or if someone found him first. Maybe Kurt was calling him because he was back in Ohio... oh, that would be a nice one. Anyway. Thoughts?** If you ever feel like hurting yourself, you can always come and talk to me, ok? (as a cutter myself, I know how venting about it just make the pain a little less unbearable).
Comments
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Okay, this just hurts. It's a good story though! Can he survive this? Pretty please? :)
Ohhh thank you very much, sweetheart! Well, since you asked this nicely I think I'll write a companion piece in which someone finds him :3
Don't let Blaine die. It would be too sad. Kids need to know that there is help. Cutting is just self-medicating for the pain right? Not that I'm suggesting that everyone needs to be medicated but clearly Blaine needs help to find a less destructive form of therapy for himself. I'm dreading tomorro's episode because last week's was sad enough and Blaine actually had things to be happy about.... lik Zombies and Robin Kitty. .
Oh, I know how you feel. After watching The Break Up I don't feel like I could actually kill him. I hadn't realised how bad Blaine's situation was because I only watched The New Rachel and Britney 2.0; but then I watched TBU and dear lord. He has every single symptom of depression, I swear to you. Every single one. He's had it since last season, but it was so damn obvious on this episode. Even the cheating (a way of being self-destructive). The kid deserves a break, so don't worry :D