A Broken Tool. [TW]

[attr="class","iii"]This life can be so cruel
She lives her life as a broken tool
What's the use to throw yourself at love
In the end it never seems enough

[attr="class","naen"]Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
It's been beeping for 15 minutes now. 15 Minutes of being ignored, as if the noise was merely a whisper among the screams, engulfing one's presence fully. Those screams had faded away long ago, as they had never escaped the broken mind. They never materialized in real sounds, real noise to be heard by everyone listening. Locked up in a small box, to keep the shouting, yelling and wrecking closed, sealed shut in case someone might need them later. Now it was not worth it.

Beep. Beep. Beep.
It just kept going. It wouldnt stop for one moment. It would have been a total, morbid silence around if it wasnt for that beeping, that just kept going and going, coming from a poor, time affected alarm clock on a wooden nightstand. The object had always been faithfull, ticking when it should, waking even the dead when it was set.
But today the beeping brought its doom.

A sharp, shiny blade dug itself like a bullet into the front of the clock, a shattering noise replacing the beeping, only for a second, followed by a metallic thump as the device collided with the ground. Silence filled the room again, and after a while, the silent, content sobbing could finally be heard.

It belongs to the less fortunate, they said. Only a troubled soul would cast its silent cries outside of its body. Mourned deaths, starving humans, pained bodies, but she was neither. There was no physical pain to clench the beating of a heart, or what remained of it after the war. No one had really died, for it would have been less hurtful. Once gone out of the body, the soul feels no pressure, no pain, only peace and harmony. Was it really like that? Did death really bring consolation? Eden? No one returned to tell..

There was no trace of where that blade could have possibly spawned from, no weapon contained had been opened, but the contrary, they've been locked since the day before. The reason? Fear. The knife somehow escaped the seige of every other gun and blade and sharp object. It has been one's best friend in the past few hours, serving at keeping her awake. There was a common phrase running around, saying "they'll check your wrists but not your thighs", and it's been really tempting, too tempting actually. But she hadnt been brave enough to do it. It was not too hard either, one slash, or more, but her hand would freeze each time and her fingers would clench themselves around the blade, small red lines staining the left palm. Maybe it was partially her fault for choosing a knife too long, perhaps it was planned it'd serve a different purpose? She wasnt sure anymore. It could have been a mad man's thought in a weak moment.

Her head hurt, it felt like something pulsating, but right now Ruby felt nothing at all. The cold floor warmed up here and there faintly, from the blanket sprawled around and mostly from the woman's own body heat. Golden locks were resting chaotically on the wooden floor, just as the woman's limbs a few moments ago. That was until the sobbing, like whispers, made her body twitch again at each hitched breath, each tear. She had grabbed a previously white, now stained here and there in a light red shade, pillow holding it tight at her chest, brushing it on top of her face to coat the sounds of one's weakness. Her bare feet were glued to the floor, but her knees were raised, feeling like it was a defense worth position, just as one palm let go of the pillow and rested on her forehead, while the other hand held stronger the soft object.

She had been a wreck, in the worst way possible. It did not sound logical, it sounded like someone's exaggerated lie to say that one raised among the emotionless could be broken so bad to have her mind clouded by a twisted judgement, just like her dark thoughts seemed to run freely, like the mascara staining the white pillowcase and the blonde's cheekbones. It didnt sound possible. Had she really gotten so attached of two of the best friends she ever had, that upon losing one and losing both, she could wither her lungs by crying? If only she'd been screaming, shouting to let it all out, but the neighbours got nothing like the kind. She really wished she could cry in the true word's meaning, with her voice breaking the silence, but all she got was like turning up the volume to only 15% out of 100. Even so, it seemed like the pain was infinite, like the tears could flow forever.

But she couldnt suffer forever, could she? Eventually Blackwood had to put an end to it, and if not by making it all work again or by knife, then by gathering her dignity and pride from whatever hole they've been burried in. She felt powerless to do so though, like she could lay down there in this misery all life, all to avoid the world outside her apartment.

11 AM and she's been like this since the day before, same hour. No sleep, no food, only occasional bathroom visits but with no drinking those were not needed. Her phone had been shut off too, while her voicemail only said "get lost" before the beeping could be heard. She had been selfish, what if people needed her? Oh who was she kidding. Ruby needed people more than they needed her, weirdly enough. And she had gotten so tired, both physically and psychically exhausted, that no sound around was normal anymore. The birds chirping were screeching, the noises from the vehicles outside were horrors, making her flinch every time a honk was heard (she should have closed the balcony door). So miserable, that she felt the need to hold someone tight and feel their heat form a shield around her, to keep her safe. Why were emotions such poisons?

With the pillow in her hands, Ruby rolled to the side, opening her blodshot eyes for a second, to see as the light burned through the closed curtains still, it found an escape route. "Please stop.." Her voice trembled as her lower lip, and she slowly saved the power to push herself up, aganst the bed's side. There she stood staring at the single line of light, casted onto the floor, the sobbing stopped. Like a clock, she had periods of crying, when her jackass mind would go back to the conversation killing her slowly, and she'd keep shaking and panting and tearing up again until close to falling asleep. So miserable, to cry herself to sleep? Except she never did, sleep was too much of a luxury, for each time she did zoom away, a pained figure would haunt her subcouncious.

And a moment like these occured now, when her eyes slowly closed, only to flicker open 2 minutes later, making her jump from the new nightmare. Since when had Madden bought two tigers, standing at his side, with shark fins on their backs and a flicking tail of the same creature, long as the shadows cast by the tall, dark frames of not one but two men in black suits. Their faces unclear, but their laughter very familiar.

She wasnt sure why she stood up from the floor, but she felt the urge to leave her bedroom, leave all these moments of crying like a baby and all the stains, even if they'd be back when she'd return. Ruby had to go...somewhere. Anywhere. She would love to think her presence was welcome at Jacob's place, but he did not trust her enough to share his address. Yet another sign that he didnt want her around either. But the woman just felt the existential need to cry into someone's arms, fill the empty feeling with someone else's voice. It didnt matter if it was someone from Enigma, Plebea, a simple stray pet from the streets, she would even go seek comfort in a Bianchi's arms, that miserable. It wasnt the kind of comfort to be acquired through a one night stand, no. It didnt even cross her mind. She wanted the simple presence of a person. A human being, for she had been surrounded by monsters all along.

And family sticks together, they're there for each other, are they not? There was only one way to find out, and Ruby placed the last bit of hope she had in this world, that Ryan, her only true family, would be at the warehouse. He had been the only one to truly be there at bad and good for her, he inspired her confidence, power, pride and love. The love, of a father, of a brother, long lost and gladly found. Would he accept her back after she had abandoned him though? Looking back at it, she left them to be closer to the ones she called friends. Jacob had no fault in this, he hadnt wronged her, but every time she thought about Max, Pierce appeared in the picture too, because her feelings for the two were alike, a difference in levels could hardly be spotted.

And so she got out of her bedroom, the chamber of her dark days, passing in front of her mirror on the wall, and giving herself a self pityful, half smile, even thought that took all of her self esteem at the moment. Her blue eyes were surrounded by red lines, her mascara looked like she was some villain from a comic book. Her hair ruffled, one could say she was on her walk of shame, but that was just agonizing to think of. It brought back what she kept as nice memories, but now they made a knot in her throat.

Minutes later, after having approached her car and just plainly having had found any power to drive, Ruby got to the warehouse by foot, some earbuds in her ears, blasting on maximum volume the saddest and deepest of songs. No lyrics, or very few, only the melody to keep her heart still beating. A hoodie concealed her shameful appearance, her hair too hidding bits of her cheeks from the curious eyes. She wore her favourite cargo pants, some random boots and underneath the hoodie that could only belong to a certain French cop. His scent, his cologne was still embedded in it, and it allured the blonde like some bait or aphrodisiac, though it was exaggerated. It just reminded her of him too much.

And as she entered the warehouse, with the pillow still at her chest, she walked towards Ryan's office, lowering her hoodie and softly knocking on his door.

[attr="class","mswtas"]