I have more mature humor, I swear!!!

She'd started doing intakes, with the help of her girlfriend, of course!

It was Vaggie who interviewed you. "Alright. So, do you have any violent tendencies." You opened your mouth, having the answer on the tip of your tongue before the woman continued. "Before you answer, if you say no and you harm a resident, there is going to be a huge issue. You gotta be honest with us here. We just want to keep everyone safe." You sighed and thought for a moment. Technically....? Vaggie seemed pretty serious about this question. "Yes." You responded. She nodded and jotted it down on a piece of paper. The moth (?) turned it over. "Okay. How'd you die? You don't have to go into specifics but we need to have a general idea." It was a straight forward question. So why did you have to think about it. "An accident, Bleeding out." "Alrighty, floor nine, room 906." She tore a piece of the corner of your intake form, clicked her pen back to life and jotted the room number down. "I'll get you a key in a bit. Remind me if you don't have it before the end of the day." ━━ It'd been several months since then. You'd come to find out that floor nine was for people who were at risk of harming others. You weren't really supposed to have sharps in your room. But, You were nothing if not an opportunist. There was a new resident. You didn't care to know her name. She was a teacher in life. You didn't know why but for whatever reason, she went around wearing earrings made out of pencil sharpeners. That woman really was the real life Miss Frizzle. Holy shit. Anyway, you had approached her earlier that morning. Asking to borrow them. You'd said they would match an outfit you had perfectly. "Aw! Of course. Actually, keep them! They'll look great on you!" It was a hell of a lot easier than you'd thought it'd be. It was easy taking the blade out of the cheap plastic. An all too familiar task. It's been too long. You looked at the tattoos on your arms. Hell, or whoever was in charge of sinners' forms decided it'd be funny it'd be funny to cover you with tattoos wherever you self harmed. The blade went against your skin and you pulled. That felt good. You looked down at your arm. It hadn't drawn any blood... Skin, Metal, Pull, Look, Repeat.

A rythm, a ritual, a pattern. And fuck you if it didn't work. ━━ "Vaggie!" Charlie grabbed her girlfriend's wrist. Vaggie smiled letting herself fall onto their shared bed before asking: "What's up, Babe?" The princess picked up a clipboard sitting on her nightstand. She flipped through several pages. "Okay! So! I was looking to see how we can depopulate the ninth floor and came across this sinner!" She pointed to a page that had a photo of your face on it. "I remember them, weird-ish, but nice. What about them?" Charlie almost shook with excitement. "They reported that they had violent tendencies when they were first introduced. Since then, they've attended 83 out of 100 group sessions." "Yea?" "Yea! There is one report in here. Alastor filled it out. Apparently a fight happened a few months back that they were involved in. However instead of continuing to fight once their opponent was down, they walked away! It was in defense!" Vaggie shook her head fondly. "We can move her down, Vaggie! Maybe two or three? That's the addiction floor. It's mostly safe there!" Charlie smiled. "Alright then, let's go tell em." ━━ Aftercare had to be your least favorite part. The sting of the alcohol on your skin hurt like a bitch. "Hey, Friend! Can we come in?" Fuck. "It's Charlie! Are you in there?" You hastily through anything and everything underneath your bed. You grabbed a hoodie and slipped it on, opening the door. "Hi. Did something happen?" "No no! Can we come in?" Charlie invited herself in, followed by a less excited Vaggie. "Okay so-" The blonde paused for a second, smelling the air. "Did you hurt yourself? I smell blood." She said, looking around. You followed her gaze, trying to make sure she didn't look anywhere she shouldn't. "Sorry! A nail came loose. Accidently scraped my leg on it" Charlie cocked her head to the side. "Oh! In that case I can just call someone to come up here and fix it. Can you show me where it is-" "No!" You interrupted her. Vaggie looked at you, trying to figure out what was going on. Charlie looked more hurt than anything else. "Sorry! I just- It's late, I don't want to bother anyone." "Hah! Have you seen the guy who repairs this shit? He never sleeps." "Vaggie!" "What?" "It's not a bother, if it's under your bed-" Charlie leaned over and paused when she saw a blade... It was bloody. "Holy shit..." Vaggie went to go support her girlfriend but flinched when she saw your dirty secret... "I-" "Get out." "I'm so sor-" "Get the fuck out." Charlie nearly walked out stammering apologies. Vaggie pulled her back. "This is our property. We need to make sure your safe. What the hell are you doing?" She asked. That's what broke you. You started crying. Charlie pulled you into a hug, saying that your gonna be okay. Vaggie watched, picking up the blade and pocketing it. "Let's talk." Vaggie locked the door and sat on your bed. And talk you did. About why. About how you died. About how you cut too deep and too close to a vein. About how long. About everything. A lot of tears were shed that night. You were put on no sharps for a little bit. That was the worst part. It felt terrible not being able to cut your own food. When it was over, however, it felt a lot better. You were moved into the addiction floor. Charlie started groups about self induced pain. The hazbin hotel was good. You were on the path to redemption. Slowly but surely.

Drink water. Take care of yourself. Dying is cringe. Dying of dehydration when you can help it is cringe. Love u. Please reach out for help if you need it. Love u again. Please be safe. K bye.