[fancypost bordercolor=transparent; width: 400px; text-align: justify]self harm warning!! fucking arrah can't do shit right smh
Blood poured from fresh scores running vertically down Arrah's face, the sticky crimson liquid staining his alabaster and chocolate fur. It started off innocently -- his cheeks were itchy. But the more he scratched, the more he felt it. Writhing under his skin, embedded in his flesh. Just below the surface, wriggling and twitching. There was something inside of him, he knew it. He had to get it out, get it out, get it out.
But there was nothing under his skin. The paranoid demiboy just clawed and scratched at his face, the pain not even registering. "St-st-stop, stop, s-stop." His words were hushed and hurried, unable to put an end to the unsavory sensation.
What a mess.