Death.
It surrounded her on all sides, from
the drooping, snow covered willows to the frosted brown grass underfoot.
Tizzrah Cantadora walked through this cold winter wasteland, purple woven eyes
always taking in everything they saw. The lack of life around her during the
cold months never ceased to amaze her. The season matched her demeanor
perfectly--cruel, shallow and bitter.
Tizz let out a sigh, her breath a wisp of steam in the wintry morning air. Despite the weather, she was dressed only in a purple scarf, a light matching jacket, and a gray short skirt. Her fluffy black and white streaked tail dragged limply behind her, disrupting the lightly packed snow. Children darted past her as they always did in the park, but today was different. They were full of Christmastime joy. Tizz, on the other hand, was hardly in the mood for any kind of joy.
She was in one of her usual
depressive moods. The chill stung the numerous lacerations underneath of her
coat, sending a brief shiver up her spine. Mostly old cuts still hovering in
the healing process, but a few of them were new and still trickled blood from
only half an hour previous. Another sigh escaped her lips. She wished she could
stop hurting herself. But before that could be done, depression would have to
fade away as well…
Tizz had decided to take a walk to
reflect on her problems and had wound up here, on the path to the woods lining
the park. Inside was a peaceful little clearing where teenagers often went to
make out or get drunk. But in these early morning hours she knew it would be
empty, just as she needed it. To think. To scar.
Fingers drifted into her pocket and
tightened on the biting cold steel there. Shiny and new, unused. She had
stopped at the hardware store to purchase the scalpel on her way here. A blind
purchase, since at the time she had no intentions of using it, but now things
were different. Now she was again filled with the depressive desire.
Something hard and wet hit her on
the back of her neck and she whirled in anger. Laughing, jeering immature
teens, throwing snowballs. She growled, but fury was quickly replaced by hurt.
Turning away from the cruel snickers to hide the fresh tears, she again jammed
her hands into her pockets and resumed her trek up the path.
Both vision and thoughts blurred as
she continued the journey upward into the thick expanse of dusted greenery.
Every tree looked like the next; it wasn't until she actually reached her
destination that she knew where she had been headed. Her previous assumptions
were correct, though--the clearing was empty. She was alone.
Kicking aside half-hidden empty beer
cans and faded condom wrappers, Tizz sat on a weathered stump and surveyed the
area in disgust. Society was contaminating nature. It wasn't really her problem
at the moment, but it was something that bothered her anyway. She remembered
when she had used to visit here as a child. The area had been free of all this
degrading rubbish, clean and beautiful. Now it was polluted. Polluted by the
hands of carefree teenagers, seeking a 'fun ride' before they entered real
life. Tizz knew what real life was. She had experienced it earlier than she
would have liked.
She lowered her head, tears falling and thoughts wandering. Every day she slid farther and farther down the cliff of life, and lately it was becoming so hard to climb back up. Friends were abandoning her for their own better interests; family was mocking and taunting her until she felt she might snap. Esteem was getting thinner. So easy to break.
Sliding a hand into her pocket, she
drew her prize out. Ordinarily, she would feel guilty; damaged as she was,
right and wrong still functioned and this was wrong. But it was so bright, and
shiny, virgin cold steel.
And sharp. Sharp like twittering
notes of song.
Tizz drew up her sleeve and lowered the scalpel to her left bicep, drawing the flat of the blade across old scars, not puncturing any skin yet. Her breath quickened in excitement as she envisioned the blood flow. Heavy and silky red, like the soft distortion of children’s laughter in the distance. Traced the designs and slashes, wondered at how many scored her entire body. Over two hundred, surely? Yes—certainly three hundred by now. She had touched blades many times since she’d last counted.
She turned the scalpel, pressing the
thin, sharp line of the blade against skin. She was about to take out her anger
on herself when a voice punctured the soothing stillness.
“Stop!”
Oddly familiar, both voice and word.
Head snapped up to meet the menace; her purple eyes met his own blue ones.
“Stop, Tizz,” Vensik Tanier pleaded,
padding softly to her, booted feet making large imprints in the carpet of
white. The fox knelt by her side, looking back and forth between her teary
expression and the shining scalpel. Gently, yet forcefully, his hand went out
to intercept the blade and her arm.
Tizz choked on a sob, jerking the
knife from his grip. “Leave me be, Ven… please, just leave me be.”
Vensik studied her, shaking his
head. He brushed locks of ebony, swirled with white, from her pointed muzzle.
“Tizz… listen to me. You’ve got to stop this.” He met her gaze. “You need help.
I don’t like seeing you hurt yourself…”
“But it makes me feel better, it
really does,” she argued, keeping a vise-like grip on the blade. “Please, Ven.
Leave me alone for now.”
“I can’t. I love you.” Vensik again
reached for the scalpel, and she reluctantly let go. His words had softened her
grip on the weapon. He pocketed it for disposal later, and wrapped his arms
around her, pulling her to him. He was so glad he had gotten her to stop for
now, he was nearly crying tears of joy.
Tizz wept into his shoulder, ashamed
at herself. Always ashamed.
Vensik finally let go of her and they both sat back,
Tizz lost in her grief and Vensik not quite sure of what to do or say. Finally,
he reached out and affectionately tipped her chin upwards, forcing her to meet
his gaze. “Tizzrah… please promise me. Promise me you’ll never do it again. For
me.”
She shook visibly, not from the cold, but from her
overpowering emotions. She looked down. “I… I can’t. I can’t promise you that.”
“So you don’t love me?” He immediately regretted
saying it, but if he could get her to promise him, things would be so much
better…
“No!” Tizz exclaimed, shocked at what he had said.
“I love you. It’s just so hard for me to promise that.”
“But you have to.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
Tizz wiped away fresh tears. “Because it’s my
protection, Ven. From everyone around me that despises me and has nothing
better to do with their lives than make me feel bad.”
“I will protect you. I swear it.” He pulled her to
him in another hug, nuzzling into her neck lovingly. “Just promise me, Tizz.”
It was so hard. Tizz swallowed. She had to do it.
She had wanted to stop so long ago, promising herself over and over that she
would stop. She never did. But now, now if she promised him, she just might be
able to do it. She might be able to control her desire, knowing that she wasn’t
only hurting herself, but Vensik as well.
Her voice was just a whisper, soft words in the
winter air. “I promise you, Vensik… I’ll never hurt myself again.” She felt so
good after saying that. A burden had been lifted from her shoulders, she could
feel it.
Vensik smiled. “Thank you.” He stood slowly,
offering her a paw. “Let’s go home, Tizz. Please.”
She took his hand and stood on wobbly legs,
accepting his arm around her shoulders. And taking one last, teary look at the
clearing behind them, she walked into her new way of life… the old one
hopefully gone for good.
Death.