Work Text:
Ray sat in his bathtub, the cold sinking into his skin numbed him. All of body was exposed besides what was covered by his boxers. His legs were spread, displaying all of the scars on his thighs. In his hand was a razor blade which he held close to the skin of his leg. Cutting was one of the first shitty ways Ray learned to cope with his issues and it was the hardest one to stop. It was ironic, a rich teen could find plenty of other ways to hurt themselves with drugs or drinking, but he always found himself back in the bathroom with a blade to his skin.
The first cut stung the most, tearing deep and dripping blood. Ray's breath shook, focusing all his energy to not cry out. Even after all these years, his pain tolerance wasn't the best. He started cutting after the death of his mother, feeling like a true disappointment to her. His father never noticed but the house maids certainly did. He could feel the pitying looks sent his way whenever they had to clean the blood stained clothes. He knew he was only being a burden, but the pain felt too addicting to let go of.
So he cut, over and over on rough skin. He would slice until he felt dizziness spin in his head. Reluctantly, he looked down, seeing the mess he created varying from deep cuts to cat scratches. Small streams of blood poured from each cut and pooled in the empty tub.
Ray reached over to turn on the water. His cuts would sting as hot water would wash over them. He rinsed the blade of all the dried blood and let it fall onto the towel laying on the floor.
Only then would he let himself cry. It started with soft whines, his voice breaking in his throat. He had always been pathetic, a failure to his mother. If he didn't kill himself now, he was bound to die the same way that she had, drowned in liquor.
Ray sobbed out, calling for the mother he never had.The one that loved him, accepted him despite his flaws, and would wipe his tears away.
When he stepped out of the bath the cuts no longer stung, only dully ached. His misery turned numb with it.