Summary: Anon, Fang and Trish are trying to come to terms with the latest events while looking for a way to properly cope with their feelings.


Chapter Text

Feels good to be back at home, the folks at the hospital also had the decency to give me some crutches. I bet they’ll bill my dad for that, too. I also received a prescription for some painkillers to deal with my constant reminder of that terrible day.

Would be nice if they gave me something to deal with the mental issues, too, but for now I’ll be happy with numbing any physical pain. I still have Fang’s pained look in my head, I haven’t seen her since then. I do know that she was taken into custodity just 5 days ago.

It’ll be hard to distract myself while these concerns are plagueing the back of my mind but I’d only drive myself crazy. Maybe I should try some shitposting again, I know just the right place: a certain mongolian basket weaving forum.

Before I can actually head to my favorite board I catch a glance of something on the frontpage. An image depicting something black and white in the shape of a familiar pterodactyl. What the fuck. I immediately open the thread just to see a bunch of disgusting comments about Fang herself.

Considering her relation to Volcadera Bluff’s police commissioner (aka her dad) it was only a matter of time until this detail would get picked up by the media and then spread to other outlets. And of course these asswipes would discuss the topic, why wouldn’t they? Everyone on that godforsaken board has an opinion on anything, so why am I surprised to see this?

Goddamn, Fang doesn’t deserve this. Few of these fuckers are ridiculing her over her fashion sense. “Yeah, that’s definitely the school shooter type. Just look at her, I bet she got bullied a lot the way she looks LOL”.

I’m this close to replying to these bastards but what should I say? They’d either call me a simp or even go as far to connect the dots that I could be her boyfriend. Way to dox myself. “What are you, the FIDF?” That stands for Fang Internet Defense Force, by the way. Oh wait, do they even know about her nickname? I assume the press only mentioned her by her birthname.

God-fucking-damnit, now even my favorite hobby has been ruined for me. I don’t think I can stay on this site any longer, not until this story has left the mainstream. What should I do? Play some videogames? Fuck that, the last time I did that it pretty much ruined my life. I should have been there for Fang instead of distracting myself – like I’m trying right now.

No, I should do something productive and even if it’s just to ease my consciousness. I should write a letter, I’m sure there’s a way to send it to her. But for now I need to sort my thoughts, the first step is to let Fang know how I really feel.

 

 

I’ve spent the last few days in a special institute, they say it’s for my health. I’m still their prime suspect (I mean really, who else could it be?) but at least they’re treating me well.

I’ve heard from my lawyer that there’s currently no way for my dad to bail me out from here, for one the actual bail amount is set to one million dollars (they REALLY want to keep me in here) and the other reason is that no amount of money could overturn a doctor’s order. They consider me a risk to myself and they might be actually right.

I think all the time about how things might have turned out if I simply had died that day, it would have spared mom and dad the pain of living through what is yet to come. I just don’t want them to waste any more of their resources on a lost cause, there’s no way I’ll get out of this.

Wouldn’t it be so much easier to simply end it all? It’d be perfectly reasonable, would anyone really blame me? But how exactly would I do it? Should I try to choke on a plastic spork? Or maybe suffocate myself with a blanket fiercely wrapped around my neck?

Sweet Raptor Jesus, I don’t believe I could come up with the willpower to pull through with this. I’d probably chicken out at the last moment and then I can say goodbye to any last shred of autonomy once they figure out what I was up to. Life in a straightjacket, now that’s just plain hell. What would I do if my beak started itching? Doesn’t that qualify as torture of some sort?

I also started preening again. At first it was just little spots, easy enough to hide at first glance but I might have gone a bit too far this time. It might hurt but at the same time it also helps me cope by giving me something to do, kinda like popping these bubbles inside a plastic wrapper. God, what a weird comparison. Wait, did I just hear someone in front of my door?

“Lu- excuse me, Fang. I’d like to come in, is that fine with you?” That voice belongs to doctor Jebalt, he’s the one who has been treating me since I came here. Obviously I don’t really have a say in this so I simply let him know he can come in.

“So can you tell me how you’re feeling today, Fang? I hope you didn’t have any nightmares last night.” – “I usually don’t remember my dreams, doc. But thank you for asking, I do feel a little bit better.” He doesn’t seem quite convinced however. “Fang… did you hurt yourself?”

Of course he’d notice, it’s pretty much impossible to hide at this point. Secretly preening for even less than a week would still leave visible traces. “I’m sorry, doctor. I didn’t mean to, but there’s so little for me to do in here! I wish I could distract myself but in here I’m all by myself, along with my thoughts.” Please don’t put me in a fucking straightjacket.

“Listen Fang, you can talk to me if you get any of these urges. But please don’t do it again, I mean it. I’d hate to see you lose your last bit of privacy over this.” There are only two ways this can go: I end up under 24/7 surveillance or in an environment where I can’t do anything except drive myself even crazier. Fuck.

“I swear I won’t do it again! But please, could you get me something to read?” – “Sure, but first I’d like to know how your writing has been doing. You remember how I asked you to write down your feelings for later reflection?” – “I ran out of paper. I used most of it for drawing actually… not sure if that’s what you wanna see.” – “It’s fine, art is also a great way to express yourself. May I have a look?”

I hand Dr. Jebalt my drawings as well as a couple of journal pages. I wonder if these are going to be used as evidence against me in the trial that’s coming up. Whenever that might be. Well I’d like to see them try paint me as some sort of pyschopath for drawing doodles. I promise they aren’t that bad.

“You’re a fine artist, Fang. I really like that mandala you drew, it’s impressive how you managed to keep it all perfectly symmetrical.” I bet he’s already interpreting it as some inner longing to create order by reflecting said desire onto the canvas.

“Thank you, I just think they look pretty. It’s something one of my classmates used to do, I figured I’d give it a shot myself.” – “Would you like to chat with me about your classmates?” – “You mean my friends? Err, sure. Why not. What do you wanna know?” – “Let’s start with your best friend. Who would you say is that?”

 

 

I recently heard Reed talk about that fucking skinnie again, he apparently is still keeping in contact with him. I already tried convincing him that Anon is a bad influence, I can’t let him turn Reed on me. He’s the only real friend I have left. God knows when I’ll be able to see Fang again. I hope they’ll allow visitors soon, I really need to let her know that I don’t blame her for what has happened.

All of this started when that spearchucker moved to Volcadera Bluffs. Always acting like a wisecrack, thinking he can make fun of everything. This monkey never knew when to take something seriously. Fuck that, he’s way less worth than that. He’s as bad as the fleas living on top of him, he’s a parasite. And I mean that quite literally.

I can’t even focus on school anymore. Finals are coming up and my mind is all messed up. They probably need to delay them, school has been closed for the rest of the week after all. Everyone’s still mourning the events of that dreadful day, Mr. Spears can’t expect us to keep our head straight after all that.

Staying at home all day isn’t really an option for me either, having as many trigga siblings as me feels like a curse at times. I don’t think they can really understand what I’m going through, none of their friends were affected by this.

Reed is the only one who gets it but he kind of lacks the ability to properly convey it. It’s like he’s drugged up most of the time, is that how he copes with the stress? Maybe I should consider doing the same. Only temporarily of course.

Also fuck the media, spreading lies about Fang and deadnaming her like that. I heard her dad had to step down as commissioner, I guess he deserves it for treating Fang like shit. But it’s like everyone conspired to destroy VVURM DRAMA for good, there can be no band without Fang in it. Fuck, what am I going to do now? What kind of career is there even left for me?

I better give Reed a call, I really need to know what his own plans are looking like.

[POST-NOTES]
I'm sorry for the recent lack of updates, it's been like close to 3-4 weeks since the last chapter dropped. I've been busy with some other things but I'll try to finish this story, that much I want to promise.