'the nothing i've become, finale [Open!]

[Jessica Air]

Warning! This thread is pretty dark; a suicide attempt features. Do Not Read if this will offend or upset you.

Jess left the dining room, a half-eaten tray of food abandoned on the table. She knew security might be following her, but she didn't care, she wasn't eating, they could do whatever they liked to her. Her mind was made up: No More Food, capitalized for emphasis. She looked, nervously, left and right as she walked quickly down the corridor, her strides getting faster every minute. Security would be coming soon, and they'd ruin everything... What would they ruin? Jess didn't even know what she was planning to do. She just knew that she had to do something. Her feet seemed to be leading her to the ballet studio, and it took her a moment to realize that she was crying, near hysterically. What if she saw Morph or Rio? The thought made her feel sick.

It took her only a few minutes to reach the dance studio, and she slammed through the door, looking around in desperation. It struck her how odd it was that she'd ran to that room; the one where that had happened. Jessica supposed that it was also where some of her happiest memories were; dancing, feeling beautiful and graceful. She had felt like that more at home, but it was still the place where she felt most at peace. Happiest. There was nobody else in the room, which she was relieved about. She didn't feel like being with other people. Her knees almost gave way as she saw the mirror, opposite the doorway in which she was standing, and saw her blotched, tear-stained face. When she cried, she liked to imagine that she was tragic, not a disgusting freak.

She put her hands on the door handle behind her, steadying herself, before crossing the large room silently, heading to her reflection. Jessica was almost in a trance-like state, touching the image of her face gently. Her face was emaciated, her cheek bones protruding almost grotesquely beneath the taut skin. She stared, her eyes blurry, but not wanting to wipe them in case this illusion of her skinniness went away, which she didn't think she could stand. Her uniform was covering the majority of her, but she could see her collarbones, sticking out. Moving her hand from the mirror, she touched her own skin instead, feeling almost faint. Was she tripping on acid or something? Probably. Weakly, she lowered herself to the floor, feeling sick.

There were two options here: either she was actually that, disgustingly thin, or she was tripping. If she was that thin, that meant...she was disgusting. And if she was high, that meant she'd got calories from the acid, which wasn't good. Burying her face in her hands, she allowed herself to consider the possibility that everyone, her psychiatrist, her parents, her friends, were telling the truth about her weight. Immediately, she stopped that line of thought, not wanting to think about that. If it was true, that meant she had spent two years of her life dieting pointlessly, refusing to eat... As if to taunt her, a wave of hunger rippled in her stomach, and Jess couldn't pretend that she enjoyed the feeling anymore.

The feeling of sickness overwhelmed her, and for a moment, she couldn't breathe, all her energy going into not throwing up. Scary thoughts about anorexia were going round in her mind, and she squeezed her eyes shut tighter, trying to make them disappear. They didn't. Her tears were coming faster, and her breathing neared hyperventilation, and she needed to make it stop.Without thinking about it, she slammed her left fist into the newly-repaired mirror, then her right. For a few seconds, Jess slammed both of her fists into the glass, harder and harder until she was just hitting the wall behind it. Her hands - already scarred, from the last time she'd done that - were bleeding again, shards of glass embedded in them. Slowly, she took out one of the pieces of glass, staring at it, twirling it in her fingers.

With the same delicate precision, she brought the glass to her wrist, not feeling the stinging as she dragged it across her skin. Blood welled up immediately; different to the last time she'd done it, a year ago, when she wasn't in a psychiatric hospital. Then, she'd used a razor, and blood didn't appear for almost a minute. Now, it was beginning to trickle down her arm, making her feel faint. She knew that she'd pass out, soon, and almost desperately made another cut, down her wrist, splitting the vein open. It was deeper than the other one, and Jessica closed her eyes, switching the glass to her other hand. She was poised to make another cut, across her other wrist, but her hand was going numb...it was getting harder to move it, and she felt the glass drop from her hands, the stinging in her other wrist suddenly making its presence known. 'It hurts...' Curling into a ball, she kept her eyes shut, waiting, not caring what happened. Maybe she'd get found. Maybe nobody would care enough to save her. Whatever.

((Ridiculously dramatic...))

[Yvonne Olzon]

Yvonne entered the dance room, fairly certain that no-one would be here. It was lunch, after all, and everyone else was in the canteen. Not being particularly hungry, she had decided to go and get some extra practice without the other students. Each of them annoyed her; Morph was far too cocky and up himself, Jess was... well, Jess, and Alex was a panicky, cowardly little idiot, although Yvonne enjoyed the scathing looks he was constantly throwing Morph. She pulled off her leather jacket as she neared the room, rolling her shoulders and wincing as one twinged. She hadn't warmed up properly last session...

She entered the room, dropped her jacket to one side and turned, freezing when she saw the scene laid out before her. Jess was curled on the floor in the midst of shattered glass. The mirror was completely smashed at one end, while the other end had hairline cracks running all the way through it. There was blood all over the place. Had she cracked on smashed the mirror again, cutting herself in the process? Or was this deliberate? She stood for a second, unsure whether Jess had simply curled up because of the pain, but there was too much blood. "Fitte!" She snapped, reverting to her native Norwegian language as she rushed forwards towards Jess. Kicking shards of glass out of the way, she grabbed her, rolled her over, and caught sight of the long gashes in her wrist. Swearing again, Yvonne grabbed her arms, blood spilling out onto her hands. It was bleeding too heavily for her hands alone to be enough to stop, so she glanced around wildly for something to stem the flow of blood. The only thing she could see was the legwarmers Jess was wearing. Ripping them off, she wrapped both around the girl's wrist, finally looking to see if she was conscious.

Apparently, she was. "What the fuck are you doing?" she snarled, her accent so thick with anger and worry it was barely recognizable as English. She wasn't sure why she was reacting like this; she didn't like Jess, not at all, but she didn't want her to kill herself. This was Morph's fault. Morph and his boyfriend, the actor boy.

[Jessica Air]

Jess heard someone behind her, but as she didn't understand what the girl had said, she merely curled up in a tighter ball. Her wrist was hurting badly now, and she protested weakly as it was pulled away from her chest. Pulling her arm back towards her, she opened her eyes, shutting them tightly as she saw blood. Lots of blood. Was that coming from her? Yes. Her leg warmers were pulled away from her and she kicked out, not wanting anyone to see her legs. They were fat... The feeling of her arm being compressed was too relieving for her to worry about her legs for long; it almost halved the horrible stinging. She muttered a few swear-words, feeling dizzy. She always felt ill when there was blood...

Too much blood. There hadn't been that much when she'd last tried to kill herself. She hadn't really been trying then, though. It was just to piss off her parents. Jess' tears had stopped, adrenaline taking over her system. Reaching out her uninjured hand, she touched her fabric-bound wrist, feeling a weird wetness. When she realized it was blood, she whimpered, opening her eyes to look at Yvonne's panicked face. Panicked or pissed off? A mixture...

She didn't answer her roommates question for a minute, unsure of the answer. What was she trying to do? Before, she hadn't really thought of it as a suicide attempt. It was just a way of not having to think. The thought of actually dying scared her, and she began shaking, fear making her tears start again. "I don't know," she wailed, pulling her wrist back towards her chest. She wanted to say something - anything - witty, but her mind was slower than usual, fogged by blood-loss. With her free hand, she grabbed onto the other girls desperately, squeezing so hard it must have hurt the other girl. In films, this was the bit where the heroine begged her 'savoir' not to leave her. Well, Yvonne was probably going to anyway... Going to tell Morph so they could laugh at her. The memory of the two together - talking about her dyslexia - made her tighten her grip, ridiculous amounts of anger coming over her. "Fuck you, she hissed, glaring. "This is your fault..." Designed to hurt Yvonne. Would it work? Probably not; the girl was an insensitive bitch.

[Yvonne Olzon]

Yvonne's eyes narrowed, and her palm cracked across Jess' cheek, the sound ringing in the quiet studio. "Don't you fucking dare blame me for this," she snarled at her, still pressing the legwarmers tightly against Jess' arm. "I just saved your life. The least you could do is be a bit grateful." She moved the legwarmers slightly, wincing when she saw how much blood had soaked into them. Hopefully, security or someone would be here soon, or Jess might well bleed to death anyway, all over Yvonne. And then guess who would get the blame for it?

Biting her lip, she looked down at Jess, wondering whether or not to leave her and go to find someone. If she let her go, she might do it again, but if she stayed, she might bleed to death anyway... swearing profusely, Yvonne glared up at the camera, jumped up and ran to the door. Leaning out, she looked up and down the corridor. When no-one miraculously appeared, she swore again and hurried back to Jess, furious. What the fuck was security doing? What was the point of all these cameras if no-one was fucking watching them? Sitting herself down next to Jess, she wondered if she ought to make her more comfortable or something. Wasn't that what people usually did? She decided against it. She didn't have anything she could use, anyway. Carefully brushing glass out of the way, she reached over and grabbed Jess' wrist again, this time forcing the girl to place her other hand on it and pressing it against the blood-soaked material. "Keep the pressure on this. It should help stop the bleeding, and it won't hurt as much," she instructed her brusquely, and turned to look around, hoping someone else would turn up soon.

She didn't want to be the one who saved Jess. That would make the two of them centre of attention. She'd never hear the end of it, and she didn't want it to be her. But it was, and there was not point complaining. Sighing, she looked down at her roommate's body, surprised to discover that she was glad Jess was still alive. Maybe she had actually grown used to the girl, over time, but... no, she still hated her. She just couldn't have left anyone to kill themselves, no matter who it was.

[Jessica Air]

Jess flinched, but didn't retaliate. She probably deserved it. It didn't stop her from continuing to blame Yvonne and various other people for her problems; she just did it more quietly, to herself. Mostly. "You told him about my laptop. On purpose." She was horrified to feel hot tears running down her face, getting faster every second. Knowing she sounded - and looked - like a stupid child, she turned her face away, continuing to cry.

As the pressure increased on her arm, Jess winced, feeling faint. It frickin' hurt... It hurt more now than it had when she'd cut. "Just fuck off! I hate you!" Not the wittiest thing she'd even come up with, but the best she could do with the room spinning the way it was. It was quite pretty, really, but made her feel a little sick. When Yvonne stood up and left, she started breathing faster. She hadn't really meant it, she didn't really want to die... Oh. She had no idea why the girl had left, and even less idea about why she'd come back. Turning her head, she looked around the room, eyes fixed on the clock. The little hand - the short one - was a line and a half away from the top, to the right...what did that make it? The little hand was a three quarters of the way to the top. She counted in her head, glad there was something to focus on beside 'shit, my arm hurts'. It was almost two o'clock.

Ignoring Yvonne's instructions, she began to wriggle, trying to get away. Class started at two, and it was dance, which meant the bitch teacher would arrive soon... Worse than that, he would arrive soon, and he'd see her, and see what she'd done, and laugh at her... Her legs weren't responding very well to her attempts to move, and Jess realized that she was screaming her head off after a few seconds. Closing her mouth, she continued her struggles, pushing herself up with one hand. "Class starts soon!" She screamed the words, crying more hysterically than before. "I have to go!"

[Yvonne Olzon]

Yvonne slapped her again. She couldn't help herself. "You were asking for it, being a stupid whiny bitch!" she snarled at the girl, before realising that in Jess' current state that probably wasn't a very smart thing to do. "Look, just calm down. Someone'll come soon and sort you out, OK?" she'd never been much good at this comforting gig. She somehow always managed to make people feel worse, so she pursed her lips, holding one hand pressed over Jess', since she was apparently incapable of doing it herself. She followed Jess' gaze to the clock, and... fuck. Nearly two? Class would be here soon...

Jess appeared to have worked that out, since she started screaming hysterically. Yvonne had to pin her down with one hand, holding onto the makeshift bandage with her other. "Calm down," she snapped. "You're not going anywhere." She realised what Jess was scared about, and anger coursed through her. Bastard. "And I promise you, if Morph so much as opens his mouth if he sees you, I'm going to slap him. But they won't be here for another few minutes, and security'll get here before then," she told the screaming girl, still easily pinning her to the ground. Some small part of her hoped that Morph would turn up, give her something to slap that wasn't a hysterical, suicidal anorexic who was bleeding to death in her arms. But she'd prefer that security actually did their jobs, arrived in time to help and took her away. Of course, she'd have to get cleaned up; she was covered in blood. Which meant walking through the school that way, for which she was sure to get dragged off to isolation. Either that, or she'd be dragged off with security and Jess to be questioned.

[Jessica Air]

If Jess hadn't been stopping herself from dying of blood-loss with one hand, and dying of blood-loss from the other, she would have slapped Yvonne back. Instead, she settled for a glare, and a general fuck you expression. "I am not stupid! ...Or whiny. Or a bitch!" Being called stupid was a particularly sore spot for her, and she hissed the words, wriggling away from Yvonne slightly. If she was lucky, the other girl might leave...no, if she was lucky, she'd stay. The throbbing pain in her wrists had lessened a little; was that good or bad? Suddenly, Jessica had a flashback to her first-aid courses, taken at her first high-school instead of French (there was a really cute teacher). "Um... I think I'm meant to...raise it, or something. To stop the blood -" just saying the word made her feel sick "- stop. Or something." She raised her wrist in demonstration, hoping she was right. The room was spinning slightly faster, her thoughts foggier and harder to follow, and she had the feeling that her words were slurred.

You're not going anywhere? Well, that was comforting. Jess jerked her head forward, ready to bite, the sudden movement making her head whirl. Weakly, she dropped it, unwillingly submitting to Yvonne's orders; unable to do anything else. It was suddenly a whole lot harder to focus on her words, a strange roaring in her ears. She closed her eyes, the feeling of the room rotating slightly making her feel sick, and moaned quietly. She just caught the girls words; the part about slapping Morph was comforting. Jessica was still wriggling away and she stopped abruptly, realizing that there wasn't much point.

"When will they be here?" Her voice was pleading and pathetic. With one quick movement, she shifted onto her side, her injured wrist still raised above her head, although if she was holding it there or Yvonne was, she didn't know. She could feel her roommate, pushing her back, and she groaned, not having enough energy to fight back. "Recovery position, idiot," she muttered, feeling tears build behind her closed eyes. "I mean...I think it is. I wasn't listening..." She'd been too busy flirting with Mr. Call-Me-Robert, the guy that came in specially to do the first-aid course. All she could remember was that the recovery position was for when people were unconscious, which she wasn't - yet. Still, it was better than nothing. And quite comfortable...