049×035 oneshots

Showing Skin

AN: PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS OF THIS CHAPTER. Hate that these notes are becoming so commonplace. I wish to apologize for the late upload again. To be honest. I was considering not posting this one as it is a very sensitive subject. Feel free to tell me if it is romanticized in any way shape or form, as that was not, at all, my intention. Self harm is a very serious thing, and I feel as though it is a very important subject to spread information on so long as the source of information doesn't glorify it.

049 misses looking human, and removes his outer hide

Warnings: Gore, graphic violence, self mutilation, self harm, self esteem issues, body image issues, self hatred, undiagnosed/untreated mental health ailments. mature and graphic contents.

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It was so difficult to look in a mirror.

It had been like that for a long time. Even before the Doctor's eventual disfigurement. He regretted avoiding situations where he had to stare at himself, now. He missed having a face. A real face, not some annoying, hideous mask of bone that was barely functional. It had been easy to avoid thinking about it, at least. Out of sight. Out of mind.

Ever since he'd begun living with the Mask, though, there had always been a mirror. After all, his darling did love gazing into them, and who could blame someone with such pretty porcelain for doing so? If he looked like that, the Doctor would like mirrors, too.

He didn't look like that, though. No, not at all. Each glance into the glass surface a grim reminder of his own inhumanity. Normally, he would simply move away as quickly as he could. Avert his eyes, close a door, return to whatever it was he was doing and pretend that hide-shrouded apparition simply wasn't there.

Not this day. Though. This day, Dýo had gone off to rehearse for an upcoming play and wouldn't be home for at least four hours and of course, knowing his love's desire for perfection, it would likely take far longer. That was what he wanted, though. He wanted no one to see his drab, ugly hide and lie through their teeth just to claim he was beautiful. He didn't want a soul to hear his quiet sobs, and enter to witness where he'd crumbled to that awful apparition, cleaning supplies still set neatly on the rim of the tub, his talon-like, monstrous nails gripping the sink counter, his form shaking as he leaned over the basin, with weakness pooling in the eyeholes of his mask and spilling down his beak. He wanted no intruder to attempt to reassure him as he pressed his hand against the hide over his chest, clutching the thick layer of skin hatefully.

He didn't want to look like this.

He didn't want to be like this.

The Doctor dared chance another look, staring into the puffy, blood-shot eyes of his reflection. A stupid, reckless idea formed. Then again, wasn't that just all of them? Perhaps... Perhaps he could change it? If only for now...

He drew his medical bag from where it was hidden within his robes, clicking it open and fetching a scalpel, hateful stare still locked onto his own reflection as if averting it to something else would make him change his mind. Just a bit of temporary pain, and he could look normal again. The Doctor liked pain, didn't he? He'd asked to be hurt so many times... Begged for it, even. The scalpel was lined up where the seam of his cowl connected with the flesh of his shoulder. He pressed the blade against it until he finally managed to force it under his hide.

The professional bit his tongue as the thick skin broke. Trace amounts of his discolored blood dribbled from the wound. He dragged the scalpel back along the seam until it was separated from his true flesh, doing the same with the other seam so the professional was able to bear his shoulders, the thin underskin slightly bloodied, but leaving him feeling just a little better.