Miss, stop committing suicide

Chapter 33: Shedding Away

It had already been a week since I started attending class again after spending so much time curled up in my room.

Surprisingly, Lydia’s bullying hadn’t been as bad as I’d expected.

Was it because I wasn’t resisting?

Or had she somehow become a better person?

The ridiculous thought of “Lydia becoming a better person” crossed my mind, and I almost laughed.

The concept of “kindness” is incredibly subjective, but by my standards, no matter which way you looked at it, she was nothing but a despicable villain.

So, the possibility of her becoming “kind” was out of the question.

The only way Lydia could ever be considered “kind” would be if someone put a bullet through her skull.

No, it was probably because I’d been playing along just well enough.

Lydia wasn’t the type to find joy in simple harassment.

She got off on trampling my pride — taking pleasure in seeing me degrade myself.

And since my self-esteem had crumbled to the point of being nothing but wet sand washed away by waves, it was a playground for her.

Thanks to that, life has become dull.

I had long since spent all the money I had on coffee and chocolate.

Now, I got my meals at the free cafeteria for students.

As for Evan and Vivian, I only exchanged brief greetings when we crossed paths. It had been a while since we’d had a real conversation.

Vivian visited me every day, and Evan tried to chat whenever we met, but I always pushed them away.

After all, I’d become more disheveled, more pathetic.

I’d already thrown my pride away, crawling around like a mutt — no, more like an insect.

Can something like me still be considered a human being with free will?

Sometimes I’d wonder if I could still hold my head high in front of Evan and Vivian like I used to.

It sounds pitiful and stupid, I know, but I tell myself I’m living a somewhat “healthy” life.

Not exactly “fine,” but not completely broken either.

My self-esteem took a hit when I started hurting myself.

But thanks to that, no matter what humiliation I faced, it didn’t weigh on me as much as it used to.

I didn’t even feel like dying anymore.

And if that feeling ever crept up on me, I’d just make a small cut on my body to chase it away.

It’s like I’m rejecting the life I’d lived up to now, and training myself to fit into this new life.

Whenever my stubborn pride tried to resurface, I’d punish it.

Living with a “clear mind” — no, I’m saying it wrong.

Living with a “somewhat clear mind” requires sacrifices.

Most people who grow up pampered in greenhouses or live life with unearned arrogance never listen to words alone.

So, I made a choice.

I chose to “shed” this girl bit by bit.

I couldn’t erase her completely, but I could tell I’d made progress.

If the line between “her” and “me” is meaningless, then I just have to cut away the problem parts.

That’s why I’m punishing her a little harder today.

It sounds haughty to call it “punishment,” but for this girl, there’s no other method that works.

I pressed a small blade, not on my wrist, but on my forearm.

If I ended up nicking an artery in my wrist, I’d be stuck waiting for that little maid to find me, unable to do anything about it.

“Ugh… grk…”

I pressed too hard.

A bit of flesh peeled away.

There were no bandages, so I’d have to rinse a white cloth in clean water, disinfect it with a heating spell, and wrap it around my arm.

When I looked in the mirror, the girl staring back at me was completely different from the one I used to know.

Sunken eyes, dark circles, bruises, and scars covering my pale forearms like stains on paper.

What started as simple parallel lines on my arm had become crisscrossing patterns so dark they looked cursed.

Honestly, I’m kind of grateful I can’t use healing magic.

At least the marks stayed.

If I grabbed my arm firmly and released it, it would bruise.

If I bumped into anything, the area would swell up red, or worse, turn into a blood bruise.

Normally, when people press blades to their skin, it barely breaks the surface.

But for me, it cuts too easily.

I’m just… frail.

Back when I dressed in my school uniform and wore fancy accessories, no one could tell.

But now, all worn down, I probably look like a walking corpse.

Honestly, before I even have the chance to end it myself, maybe I’m fated to waste away and die naturally.

But no.

I’m thinking clearly, moving properly, and speaking logically.

I guess it’s not quite that bad.

Anyway, this “shedding” process I go through every day is far too effective for its own good.

Thanks to it, I don’t think about dying as much.

Instead, I’ve started to believe that I’m better suited to living in this trash heap of a life.

Knock. Knock.

Vivian came today, too.

When she said she’d be back, I didn’t think she meant every single day, but here she is.

She never gets tired of it.

But since she always brings cookies, I do open the door for her.

Before opening it, I rinsed away the bloody water stains in the bathroom with warm water.

Then, I wrapped my arm with a clean, hot cloth and pulled down my sleeve.

When I opened the door, I saw Vivian standing there, her face looking slightly tense.

“Here you are again.”

“Yep! I brought cookies again today!”

A bittersweet comfort amid the misery.

“Well, I’m out of coffee. What should we do?”

“Ah, it’s okay! I figured that might be the case, so I brought some tea leaves too. We can have it together!”

As she walked into the room, I caught a brief glimpse of her face scrunching up.

Yeah, the smell of blood isn’t exactly pleasant.

Still, it stings a little when people react like that.

Even so, Vivian did her best to maintain a cheerful atmosphere.

And I didn’t bother ruining it either.

I mean, I act submissive in front of Lydia, so why would I act all tough in front of Vivian?

But honestly, I didn’t even feel like coming up with excuses anymore.

I’d just brush it off like I always did.

If she asked, I’d just make something up.

Since Vivian brought the tea leaves, she was the one to prepare the tea.

She moved naturally around the room, as if she’d done it many times before.

She brewed the tea and handed a cup to me.

But just as I was about to take it, I dropped it.

Whether it was because Vivian didn’t hand it over properly or I failed to grab it right, I don’t know.

Clatter!

The cup hit the ground.

“Why… all of a sudden…” Vivian’s voice trembled slightly.

Vivian didn’t say anything. Her pupils had widened, and I followed her gaze to see what she was staring at.

That’s when I realized why I’d dropped the teacup.

The blood.

It was slowly seeping from the torn flesh from earlier, dripping steadily onto the floor.

Come to think of it, I had felt a faint warmth just now.

“T-This… This is just an injury, right…?”

The forced cheerfulness she’d been trying so hard to maintain disappeared in an instant.

Laughter and bright red blood were never a good match.

“Yeah, it’s just a small injury. It’s nothing, so don’t worry about it.”

“Nothing?! The blood is dripping down like that, and you call it ‘just an injury’?!

If you just asked Evan, he could use a healing spell…”

“Vivian. I said it’s nothing.”

I got up from my seat and walked into the bathroom.

I rolled up my sleeve, pulled off the blood-soaked cloth wrapped around my arm, and tossed it into the bathtub.

Then I grabbed a fresh towel, wrapped it tightly around the wound, and pulled my sleeve back down.

When I stepped out of the bathroom, Vivian was still sitting there, her face a mix of shock and unease.

“Is there a problem?

If there’s a bit of a smell, I’ll just wash it away.

And I always make sure the wounds are clean so they don’t get infected.”

“That’s… That’s not what I’m talking about, and you know it.”

Ah, there’s a faint red stain on my sleeve, huh?

Well, that little maid will clean it up when she does the laundry, so it’s not a big deal.

“Listen, Vivian. No matter how serious something is, you just call it a small matter.

Even if I lopped off my own head or someone else did it for me, you call it ‘nothing important.’

If you keep saying it’s no big deal, one day, you’ll start to believe it.

That’s the power of belief! Haha.”

“…Is that something you should be laughing about…?”

“Huh, am I laughing right now?”

I glanced at the mirror.

Ah, I really was.

Lydia was a liar after all.

“Anyway, if you don’t convince yourself it’s nothing, it really, really hurts.

It doesn’t just hurt a little — it hurts a lot.

So please, stop making a fuss and just sit down. It’s nothing.

Sorry if it made you uncomfortable.

I should have been more careful to hide it from you.”

Vivian still didn’t look convinced. Her mouth hung slightly open, and she stared at me with eyes full of pity.

She didn’t say it, but it was written all over her face.

How kind.

She’s probably the only person left who still sees me as something more than a worn-out puppet.

But she doesn’t know.

She wouldn’t have heard the rumors.

She’s just a commoner, after all.

And most of the people around her are men, so she probably gets called nasty names like whore behind her back.

It’s honestly a relief she hasn’t been dragged through worse gossip.

She probably doesn’t even have any of those typical loose-lipped “chatterboxes” hanging around her to spread the latest school rumors.

But friends?

Friends don’t matter.

In a romance novel, the protagonist doesn’t need friends.

The only thing that matters is the love story between the main character and the male lead.

Not that I know who that’s supposed to be in her story.

Vivian’s hands were trembling a little as she sat back down. Her fingers twitched before she let them fall limply onto her lap.

“And besides, why would I ask someone like Evan to use healing magic on me?

I’m in no position to be asking for help from someone like him.”

My pride, self-esteem, social status, dignity — all of it had been stripped away.

What was left of me was no better than a corpse.

I’d lost the driving force that kept me going, but I was still walking, like a zombie desperately clinging to life.

“Thanks for the cookies. Oh, and for the tea too. It was a little hot, though.”

I glanced at Vivian, making it clear that it was time for her to leave.

“…I’ll come back tomorrow.”

“Haha, you really don’t have to.”

“I’ll still come back.”

“…Do whatever you want.”

Yeah, do whatever you want.

You always do anyway.

It’s not like I could ever stop you.

How could I possibly stop you?

Dare I even try?