sixillusions | [catchall] Camille

[FIVE HUNDRED TWENTY FIVE THOUSAND SIX HUNDRED MIIINUTES

HOW DO YOU MEASURE ALL THE PAIN OF A YEAR

they are voided]

Your little sister is going to prison today.

The police clap Amma's twiggy preteen wrists in handcuffs, and they march her out the door of your crappy apartment with a firm hand on each arm. She's defiant but hot in the face, eyes wet and cheeks red. She looks at you with a clear burn, the sear of a laser, and you feel your skin sizzle.

When she's gone your editor and mentor, Frank Curry, swoops in with his wife to save you from the silence. They assume the space on your couch. They're here for you in your hour of need. You manage just fine, talking.

You slip a knife up your sleeve when they aren't looking, and you go to the bathroom.

You lock the door. You slip your shirt off and look at your handiwork in the mirror. Words you've carved into your skin from age thirteen to twenty nine, neck to wrists to hips and down to the webbing between your toes. There's a patch on your back left blank, nothing written there. It's been too hard to reach with finesse.

Today, you grind the knife around in that smooth circle, shredding your last patch of clear skin below the neck. When you're ready to start on your face Curry breaks into the bathroom.

He gets the knife out of your hand, and in short order you are in their care and living in their basement. Sharp objects under lock and key.

It's better that way.

[WHEN U STARE INTO THE VOID AND THE VOID STARES BACK and then spits out the thoughts in your head for god and everyone to see. Damn. Also I think about how this is probably the first totally modern-era memory he's seen so he's just like what the fuck is this house.

Whether Kanda is one of the better people to see these types of memories, or one of the worst--it's hard to say. On the one hand, Kanda isn't prone to asking questions; just as he pulls himself away from the friendliness and care of others, so too does he grant them that same space. He's company in silence and grounding reminders of harsh realities. On the other, he isn't one for sympathy or pep talks. He isn't nearly as heartless as he would like to be, but he is not the right person to provide comfort, verbal or otherwise.

He is, however, aware of all this memory-sharing by now; and while he's so desensitized to so many kinds of pain and violence that her memory wouldn't have unsettled him anyway, knowing that such private experiences are coming helps him brace for when it ends. He looks to her, first, checking to see how well she's weathered reliving all this before he says anything.]

[WAIT HE'S YE OLDE????

anyway recovering from this incredible news to say Camille doesn't look thrilled. Rather she won't make eye contact. Won't unfold her arms from her middle. Her jaw is clenched tight.

Fucking hell.]

...Feels like we should start charging for these surprise shows.

[Her face is hot. The humiliation is closing her throat, riling her blood up and pricking her eyes. At the very least she can count on him to keep quiet. It's all Kanda ever wants to do, anyway.]

[LFMSKJDHGK HELP YES... HE'S FROM THE LATE 1800s

But it's true--she doesn't need to worry that he'll tell anyone. Or even that he'll judge her, really. It's not his business, and there are plenty of other heroes here, if she's looking for one.

Still, he can relate to hating this experience.]

I asked the purple one to make it stop, but they said they can't.

[catchall] Camille

WEEK 2: Monday (1/2)

2/2 (REWRITE) ((SPOILERS, CW: self harm, gore, mental health issues, attempted face gore))

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