#C: Astraea Lassiter
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/ - queenthorinoferebor
Send me “/” for my muse’s reaction to yours walking in on them self-harming.
It was, in all honesty, an activity he had mostly left behind in his youth. A coping mechanism for a stupid kid who didn’t know any better and didn’t have any other outlets. But you get older, and then you have work; you have bars, and a license that lets you drive fast and far. You have target practise and you have - in his case - criminals to fight.
But when you start, you don’t ever completely stop.
And sometimes, when he couldn’t take the constant wearing down - of grief, the memories of the wife he had lost, the failures, the insecurities, the long-lost things people had said in the past - he found himself he found himself right back in that space between the sink and the bathtub. Because it helps. Until it doesn’t. But he tried not to think about that.
God, the last person he had wanted to see this or find out about it was his daughter. One of the few lights in his life now, and one he did not deserve; one he did not know how to be a father to.
There was a reason he waited until he thought she was at school or asleep before falling back down to Hell without even clawing for a hold to keep himself on the surface, away from the damnation.
Faded tear trails were frantically rubbed against the shoulder of his shirt, and - shaking, trying to hide it - Carlton dropped the razor blade in the tub, the clink of metal against acrylic seeming to echo through the room. It was too late. There was no hiding this.
He turned on the faucet, washing crimson-pink down the drain before shutting it off and finally turning, trying to keep from cowering because god, he was terrified. What could he say? How the hell could he explain this away?
He needed to send her to live with her family… someone from Thorin’s side, someone who could take care of her, someone who wouldn’t only drag her down…
Carlton knew he needed to dress the wounds - even if he had fallen back on this coping mechanism, he was nowhere near the same stupid kid he had once been - but he felt he should say something first. But god, what to say…
Normally, there was only blank calmness, afterward. He had never quite figured out why; he only knew it was preferable sometimes to the nonstop stress, grief, and general agony. But this time, it was cold dread and electric terror that surged through him.
“I…”
God, please strike me down.
@queenthorinoferebor
#rp#verse: undetermined#C: astraea lassiter#queenthorinoferebor#(IM SO SORRY)#tw self harm#(AND IF YOU WANTED A STARTER FOR THORIN AND NOT ASTRAEA LET ME KNOW I CAN WRITE ANOTHER ONE)
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