Archive of Our Own ^beta

With searing pain, Shifty looked up at the ceiling.

Guts.

All of his guts were strung up. His back was barely against the floor.

And there, standing in the corner of the room, was the local clown.

Mime.

There was shock painted over their face at the sight in front of them. Well, shock and blood.

They were the one who caused it, after all.

The soft clicking of hooves against tile signaled them drawing near.

They had won. Would they take his life? Probably not, Mime had always been a pacifistic soul. Those innocent brown eyes had seen some awful shit, but Mime had never killed, at least, not on purpose. Maybe a trick had gone wrong, but that was never an excuse.

Shifty would've smirked had he not just been gutted by a mimed shovel. They had no idea what it felt like to leave someone else to die. To take a life with your own two hands. To be the one with complete control over a situation, over a person, and be the one to choose their fate. It was almost intoxicating.

A shaky hand touched part of his intestine, causing a flinch. Mime immediately jumped back. They looked up at the organs, entangled in the ceiling fan.

There wasn't an easy way to go about this. Either way, Shifty would end up dead. Shifty may have been a dick, but... it would still be murder.

Scissors would be the best bet to go about this, preferably those of the sewing variety.

Shifty's hands flew to his mouth to muffle a pained scream as what felt like simple air sliced into his organs. He'd cut himself with scissors before, but this was much worse.

And there was no promise of a band-aid and warm water to comfort himself, just the cold embrace of death.

His back collided with the tile as warm blood, his blood, soaked into his fur

Mime stared down at the raccoon.

They could make everything worse with one wrong move. That's how everything worked.

That's how it always worked.

"Go ahead. It's already gonna happen. Do it, kill me," Shifty almost begged.

Mime froze up again, tears escaping their eyes.

They didn't want to. They knew they shouldn't, but Shifty was right. He was already so close to death. It would be an act of mercy to kill him.

At least, that's what they told themself to rationalize the act.

Shifty shakily stood back up, clutching the tear in his stomach.

They couldn't apologize. A simple stammer could cause more slip ups down the line.

Well, they couldn't apologize with words. Actions spoke just as loud as words, unless the person couldn't see you.

It just took one snip.

And that was the most terrifying part.

How a once living person could be reduced to a corpse in just a few seconds.

The paint, blood, and tears on their face was all smudged together. A limp corpse sat in their arms

They had finally killed on purpose

Did that make them a bad person? To mercy kill someone heavily injured asking for death

Mime didn't know.

Their foreheads met as Mime silently pleaded for the corpse's forgiveness. Clinging to bloody fur like it was still alive.

How would his brother react? How would everyone else react?

Should they run into one another again soon, Mime would want to be friends.

For now, the closest they'd get was hugging a corpse they'd created.