#nonfatal suicide attempt tw

[whumpqin]

Enough

What’s this? Another chapter? Oh man! (Actually I had written this chapter before the other one, but I needed something in between them for, uh, reasons.)

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Taglist:  @faewhump​ @galaxywhump​ @castielamigos-whump-side-blog​ @insanitywishes​  @burtlederp​ @whumpasaurus101​

CW: Non-fatal suicide attempt, Whumpee wanting to die to escape abuse, self harm, fucky thoughts about pain, blood, biting, self-vampirism/drinking one’s own blood, dehydration, starvation, spiders, referenced torture, referenced eye whump, pet whump, explicit vomiting / nausea, monster whumpee, creepy/intimate whumpers, 

Word Count: 2,149

There’s a spider in the basement today. It’s crawling in the corner, weaving a small web to catch some of the small flying gnats that were down here.

Like a magnet on similar sides, Elisha found himself curled into the opposite corner, repelled by the sight of it. Him and spiders… don’t get along, usually. Especially when they were in the same space. Before he would simply avoid their space and they would avoid his. Now, there was no getting out of watching it move about the room, and he could only pray that it wouldn’t come over to his side. He could never bring himself to kill it.

Most of all, he wasn’t sure he could kill it. All of his limbs were so weak from not being able to move around, and even shifting his toes back and forth took almost all of his energy. Even after his legs had mostly healed, and he could draw them up to his knees if he were able to with minimal aches, he couldn’t move. He couldn’t go anywhere.

And God, he ached.

Not a point on his skin was unmarked. Elisha had been beaten, whipped, cut, burned, rubbed raw, and broken in every sense of the word. His bones wept underneath his skin, streaks of  agony that fluttered through his body whenever he thought about moving. His lips cracked and split from the lack of water - despite being given a few gracious drops here and there - and his mouth felt dry. His insides felt like they were hollow, as if nothing was left of him but this shell that his Masters could torture to their greatest desire.

Then there was that spider and all eight of its legs moving on its web and he couldn’t do anything about it.

He couldn’t do anything about anything. Elisha was stuck in this moment of time, a hollow outline of himself, waiting for his Masters to finally tire of him. Maybe they’d be merciful enough to end his suffering, bury him out in the fields where he’d nourish the plants with his marrow. 

He had always wanted to be a tree. Or a bush. Or wheat. Or literally anything that wasn’t what he was now.

Elisha couldn’t stand himself.

His bones ached, his arms and legs he could barely move even if he really wanted to, his missing eye still moved around in its socket, like a ghost of what was there, his mouth was so dry eating sand might have been nourishing, he was so hungry ripping into the stone with his fangs wouldn’t even settle the constant rumble of his belly, and then there was that fucking spider-

Horns scraped against the stone again, bringing about a familiar and faint ache from them. The feeling was satisfying, something he could control, a pain that he could create himself. His Masters had tried to threaten him to stop but even their prying eyes didn’t stay on him forever.

The thought made him smile, a wide grin outstretched to either side of his face that didn’t reach his eyes, where they teared up and ran down. Elisha tasted more blood from his empty eye. Jeremiah would be angry that he sullied his bandage again like that.

It wasn’t enough. It didn’t hurt enough.

He swallowed, drinking in what little tears ran into his mouth. Tasting the copper tang of his own blood mixed with salt. It was incredible.

Elisha was losing his mind. He was well aware of that. But it wasn’t like his Masters were going to help him with that, were they? Aridai might call him cute or quirky again, and Jeremiah might just tell him to stop being weird.

Haha, he should have bitten that woman who called him weird. Maybe then he would have been a normal Cambion.

He still could bite, he supposed.

Elisha’s left eye angled downwards, where his hands splayed open in his lap. The faded tally marks against his pale green skin were evident along his arm, reminding him of all of his rules. Those damned rules, forcing him to be perfect or else suffer horrible consequences.

It’s not hard to hate them.

He bared his fangs at his arm, forcing all of his energy into the limb so that he could raise it to his head. It lifted slowly, presenting the tally marks to himself as he sank his teeth in as hard as he could. Pain blossomed, swirling with his other aches and pains as he gasped from the feeling. Blood welled around the wound and dripped onto his tongue, flooding his senses with its taste.

It was with a sudden surge that Elisha realized he wanted more. More of himself, of his blood, even with the panicked nagging in his brain begging him to stop. His teeth ripped at the skin of the tally mark, sending a jolt of agonizing pain that made his mind go numb to everything else for a moment. Elisha swiped his tongue over the larger mark, relishing in the ability to drink something after what felt like days of nothing. Sparks of scattered pain littered his arm, screaming in agony at his betrayal, but there was something sickeningly desirable at doing this to himself.

Aridai didn’t even need to tell him to do this. Would they be proud of his lack of hesitation, at his resolve?

He soon found it too unbearable to move the arm and let it collapse against his lap. Elisha licked his lips, tasting the dirt and blood and his tears mixing together in an unholy concoction. All of it his own.

He forced his other arm to lift up, bringing his wrist close to his face. Elisha was so tired. He just wanted to see the sun again. A part of him had a feeling he never would.

It was slower this time, as he sank his teeth into his wrist, trying not to blindside himself with pain. Blood welled into his mouth again and Elisha drank, relaxing against the wall as he ripped and tore into himself. He ignored the sickened feeling from his stomach and the woozy, hazy feeling from his head, until his body wouldn’t allow him to. Elisha coughed, spitting up his own blood as he felt his stomach churn, feeling himself go limp at his vision blurred.

Distantly he heard the hatch to the basement open.

Elisha squinted, righting his vision just as boots stepped down, and he caught sight of lighter hair that he knew was blonde as Jeremiah blindly searched for the light switch. He hoped he had arrived too late to do anything.

When the light flicked on, Jeremiah’s neutral expression turned into immediate horror - a widening of the eyes and gaping mouth that Elisha had never seen from him, ever - as he stared at Elisha’s bleeding form. Blood still welled from his wrist, pooling into the dirty ground around him. Elisha looked up to his Sir in misery and elation, completely pleased in how he made himself suffer.

“What the fuck?!” Jeremiah all but shrieked. He dove for Elisha and picked up the arm where he’d bitten off the tally, holding his hand tightly over the wound to get it to stop bleeding. “What the fuck did you- holy shit. ARIDAI!”

Jeremiah had seen his wrist. He shifted forward, tightly wrapping his hand around the bite mark and putting heavy pressure on it. Elisha’s lip curled at the attempt, pulling away from his Sir. Just let him bleed, let it happen. Why was he trying so hard for a stupid pet who couldn’t get anything right?

“Stop, Caleb stop- stay the fuck still,” Jeremiah breathed, but there was no lasting anger behind it.

Quick footsteps and a flash of red noted the presence of Aridai. They stood back several feet or so, staring at the scene unfolding before them with genuine surprise, sleeves folded up and water dripping from their hands like they had just been washing something. Jeremiah craned his head backwards to look at them.

“Fucking help me, Aridai!” he yelled, pulling them out of their stupor.

“What the hell happened?!” Aridai stooped down next to Jeremiah, taking one hand while he took the other. Elisha’s eyebrows furrowed as they ripped off a piece of their own shirt to tightly tie it against his wrist.

“I don’t- I don’t know, I just- I just came down here and-and he was like this,” Jeremiah quickly explained, falling over his words while he inspected Elisha from head to toe, trying to make sure that the bites against his arms were the only things wrong with him.

“Shit. What the hell were you thinking, Caleb?” Aridai demanded, grabbing him by the chin and forcing his head up to look at them.

The motion finally made the dizziness in his head and the churning in his stomach mix together, and Elisha’s chest heaved, unable to stand his own blood coating his throat and stomach. He vomited up a mixture of bile and blood, coating his chest and Aridai’s arm as they pulled back in shock.

“Ugh, the fuck?!” they cursed, flicking their hand and holding it up in disgust. “What the hell did you do, decide to become a fucking vampire?!”

“Aridai, I don’t- I don’t know what to do, we can’t just take him to a hospital, can we?”

“No fucking hospitals, Jer. We handle this ourselves.” Aridai tied the shirt piece tighter against Elisha’s wrist, then wiped their hand on their pants to get rid of the extra blood and other fluids. “Hold his mouth open for me.”

Jeremiah did the same, instead using his belt to tie a makeshift tourniquet to stop too much blood flow. Elisha writhed under his Masters’ touch as they forced his mouth open. Jeremiah curled his fingers enough so that he couldn’t snap his jaws shut and bite, while Aridai practically stuck their fingers down his throat. Elisha gagged, the nausea in his stomach rolling uncomfortably.

“Come on… get that shit outta your system, diamond,” Aridai pressed, curling their index and middle finger to make him gag again. Elisha’s stomach heaved again, as he spat up more blood and bile from his throat. He let out a miserable cry, weak limbs clawing hopelessly at his Masters to get them to stop. “No, stop that. Take your punishment like a good boy and throw that blood back up. Shit’s bad for you.”

Once more he gagged, but this time only bile rose from his stomach. Aridai and Jeremiah let him go, satisfied, and turned their attention towards his wounds.

“We can’t leave him in the basement. Stupid thing would probably die of infection,” Aridai said. “Can’t leave him in the kitchen, he’ll just run. Same thing with the living room.”

“I’m not leaving him in the bathroom.” Jeremiah sighed, glancing up to the basement door. “Guess it’s the bedroom, then. We’ll be able to keep an eye on him through the night. I’ll have to put up some foundations so he doesn’t get loose.”

“Alright. You work on that while I dress these. Help me get him upstairs. He’s- goddammit he’s still fucking bleeding,” they hissed, putting pressure on his wrist again. Aridai’s head fell in annoyance and stress as they wrapped their hands tightly around his wound. “Caleb, honey, you’ve gotta stop. That’s enough of this little tantrum of yours.”

Elisha whined, tears flowing freely from his eyes. Everything hurt, and where the hollow once was it had been replaced not by satisfaction, but by discomfort and pain and sickness. His head fell forward in despair, butting into Jeremiah’s before his Sir pulled away in a hiss of pain, cursing as he grabbed Caleb’s horn and pressed his head back up against the wall.

“We need to get him some ice. Ari, what if he, he doesn’t stop bleeding? What are we going to do?” Jeremiah’s voice was just on this side of calm, an odd tense note in his voice. Panic.

“He’s just a pet, Jer. If he dies, he dies, and we’ll get a new one.” Aridai fished for the key in their pocket and tossed it to their partner. Then, their cruel eyes turned towards Caleb. “But we’re not going to let that happen, if we can. There’s still so much fun we can have, isn’t there Caleb?”

He closed his eyelid, breathing hard through his nose. They didn’t repeat themselves, or demand that he give and answer. Instead, Elisha caught their faint, hushed whispers about moving him back upstairs. Talk of blindfolds, muzzles, anything to keep him from seeing upstairs again. Not because they didn’t want him to see it, but because he didn’t deserve it. 

Elisha figured that was right, for the most part. They hadn’t given him permission to look upstairs, yet.

They wouldn’t even give him permission to die.