“Sometimes he doesn’t remember.”
A little fic inspired by @cranberrytea451 ‘s concept for a Scar comic. I may come back to this at some point but I like it well enough now to share :)
Note: if repetition bothers u this fic is not for u
Warnings: body horror - memory lapses - self harm (graphic) - depictions of mental distress - loss of time, somewhat graphic gore
edit: accidentally swapped his eyes in the fic if u read an alt version somewhere. He is blind in his right eye.
Sometimes…he doesn’t remember.
He doesn’t remember why it’s so cold. Why he’s so hungry. He doesn’t remember how he came to be here or where that even is.
And he.
Doesn’t remember…
It’s dark in twilit glow and so cold. Yet for some reason it’s darker to his right.
He lifts his hand and follows it. He shuts his left eye and only meets darkness.
Why can’t he see? Why can’t he see out of his eye?! Why can’t he open it? Why does it hurt when he tries?!
His fingers tremble as they reach up and find the stitches and his stomach churns while his mind aches.
Holy shit someone sewed his eye sh-
Where is he?
Why can’t he see?
Theres stitches by his fingers.
He digs in while his working pupil trembles in its socket. No. No he can’t. He can’t see.
Why is it empty?!
The lid that he pries into is hollow and sunken with no orb below for his fingers to touch.
He lost his eye. It’s gone it’s gone. Gone gone empty and it hurts.
His right ear twitches as his stitches pop.
What’s going on?! He can’t!
He can’t remember…
His face hurts and there’s a warm liquid leaking down his cheeks. From his eye. Is he crying?
No that’s not it but it is. The liquid that oozes down his right cheek is thicker than the freezing flow of his left.
His right pointer and middle fingers are warm and wet.
Where…
There’s a slick sound as he pulls them from his oozing socket and his sunken lid sticks to his bloody digits. It makes his aching empty soul roll.
What the fuck happened to his eye?!
What happened to him?!
He reaches up to hold his head only to find more confusion there. There’s stitches on his scalp, there’s stitches on his scalp and he doesn’t have his eye, he doesn’t have his ear, what happened what happened what
Where the fuck even is he?
He can’t fucking remem-
His face hurts. There’s cool liquid draining from his right eye that stings and aches and makes him want to cry and scream. Yet he has no energy and his anxiety spikes at the thought of causing so much noise.
His left cheek is cold with a frozen trail. He stands in a twilit forest of aspen and snow, the sky an ominous black.
There’s stitches by his left hand.
What… why are there stitches? His left hand is on his scalp and there’s stitches. Why. Why are they there. Why are they there.
It aches when his irritation and confusion leads to his fingers digging into the wound. Why was he wounded?
Why are there stitches?
Why couldn’t he see out of his right eye?!
He couldn’t…
He’s kneeling in a snowy twilit aspen forest with the sky an ominous black that drips flakes of snow like water from stalactites…
Why is he thinking of stalactites?
His head hurts and his hand is warm and wet. There’s…a wound on his head. Yet he feels numb. He knows it’s there and that it hurts but. He just.
It just…is.
When he reaches up he blinks owlishly at the pink stained snow before him. His…
There’s a flap of skin peeling off his scalp. It pulls at the stitches at his forehead and brow, and one’s behind his ear. It hurts.
Why can’t he see from his right eye?
His head aches and it’s wet and tacky when he reaches up to hold it.
There’s flesh peeling from his scalp…
Flesh… He’s so hungry.
He can’t remember.
It’s so cold… and he twitches at every sound. Out of the trees. It’s not safe here. Why why. Why does he know that why is he so confused why can’t he fucking remember!
His head burns as he grabs at it and silently screams into the painfully cold snow next to him. He doesn’t understand what’s happening! Where is he? Why?!
Why does it hurt so much?!
He’s crying…
He…doesn’t know why.
There’s…there’s not time for that.
His working eye finds a spool of thread and needle in the snow next to him. His face hurts… his head hurts.
He’s so hungry.
He only moves when the numbness settles completely. When the world feels like little more than a fuzzy dream…nightmare.
The sheet of ice in front of him answers his questions. He doesn’t…feel anything. He thinks he should but there’s no time for that. No energy.
His face is wet with his own blood,both from his torn lid of his empty socket and the gore of his scalp.
He thinks it should hurt when he sees his reflection, that it does, but he’s too cold, too hungry, too exhausted to feel it. He both recognizes himself and doesn’t.
He doesn’t understand.
But he can’t stay here.
His cold hand trembles in exhaustion when he takes up the needle and spool of thread for makeshift stitches. The reflective ice makes a decent enough mirror while he sews himself back together.
His hands pause at his eye, the fresh thread already pulling at his skin, too thin to not cut into it.
Why…
Where is his eye?
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I was seeing the comic of Emmets self destructing behavior even after he and Ingo reunited and wow… that implication it’s not the first time…
How many times must have this happened? How many times until Ingo knew snapping him out by a gentle hand on his shoulder? What bad habits did Emmet develop while being on his own? With "Ingo" encouraging him to be more healthy? Just so deliciously dark! I love it?
On the other hand how much strain Ingo's body going through when he has his moments he sees "the man in white" his body switches to "life-or-death-mode" receiving a little bruise could cause him to fall into full panic mode and try to treat it like a lethal wound if not for Emmet snapping him out of it and calming him down again.
While both have their moments of seeing their subconscious guardian angel both react differently.
Emmet is apathetic towards "Ingo" dismissing him since he’s not even there. He reacts mentally.
Ingo’s whole body could react to small bruises and injuries like they could kill him and depending on his support to get through it. He reacts with his whole body.
Also when Ingo’s aware he’s probably insecure about all the scars he’s got on him now. How many times he almost died… he doesn’t want the real Emmet to know. It’s bad enough that "the man in white knows"…
YES YES!!! This analysis is so perfect!!! If you'd allow me to ramble a bit...
Emmet's self destructive tendencies have been going on for a while since Ingo's disappearance. He has his Elesa and his depot agents to support him/remind him to not truly forget about himself (Elesa trying to take more time off from her job to check on Emmet/invite him out to lunch to make sure he eats, the veteran depot agents frequently checking up on him during the day/encouraging him take more breaks/interrupting his smoke breaks "accidentally", ect) but it's been hard to say the least. It will take some time for these habits to truly go away even with Ingo back, especially on his bad days.
BUT ALSO YEAH! Ingo! If Emmet appears at the corner of his eye suddenly or he sees him from a distance (any sort of blurred visage - as the man in white always appeared as) he might have a knee jerk response - a sudden urge to run or seek safety - but ultimately it won't be too serious.
His body reacts the most drastically when he is already in a state of injury and Emmet is within eyesight. Elevated heart rate, shortness of breathe, blurred vision, body tremors: his adrenaline levels will spike to an unnatural level causing a ton of stress on the body, since his mind is basically telling his body that he's on the brink of death. The quickest way to calm him down if it were to get this bad would be to have Emmet out of his sight until he can calm down...Not very ideal when the source of one's panic works the same job as you, in a work environment where slight injuries aren't too uncommon
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Something I realized (which was obvious to me subconsciously) is that... The family that vehemently didn't accept me when I first came out but now do accept me are still the same family that I am most unwilling to be open about things I feel protective over.
I remember that my dad reacted so poorly, not to my coming out, but to my transition specifically that my therapist was the one to ask if I wanted to put it on my file that I wanted nothing to ever be shared with him about my health after I broke down multiple times due to my anxiety that I would never transition. While there are and were protections for me, I was incredibly fearful at the time because I was a minor, and I was so worried that he would have prevented my transition that I couldn't have said for certain what (if any) lengths he would have gone to to prevent that.
He's grown a lot as a person, and made some commendable strides. But he didn't find out from me when I medically transitioned the second I turned eighteen, and I think that's among the things that truly made him realize the scope of the issue.
I'm not here to guilt trip parents, guardians, or other members responsible for the care of the children or teens or young adults in their care.... but this is a cautionary tale. You aren't saving the people in your care when you do this, you simply reinforce an idea that you will never care for them, never want them as they are, would rather them be shoved away.
When you give people reasons to be secretive, they will behave secretively. When you give people reasons to doubt their safety around you, they will become sneaky, defensive, and withdrawn. When you give people reasons to doubt that you value their life, they will believe that you don't care if they live or not.
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