Dancing on the Edge

Category:Fanfictions
Category:Fanfictions (Completed)
Category:Fanfictions (Semi-Canon)
Category:Genre (Tragedy)
Category:Genre (Epistolary)
Category:Content (DragonSiren22)
Category:Mature Content
Note: Venus's character page takes place at around the time of the first letter. Therefore all of the events depicted in this fanfiction take place in Venus's future, not xyr past or present. 
Dear Mother,
Do you know who I am? Do you see who I've become? Do you know that I spend every night tossing and turning and crying and screaming? Do you know that you hit me, sometimes?
Wait, no, you don't. That's just me and my messed up brain. You don't hit me, or hurt me in any other way. You only do that in my head. Sorry. 
But the truth is, you don't know the truth. You don't know that sometimes the voices get so loud I can't hear anything else. You don't know that I think I might be invisible, so I make myself big and important, so no one can ignore me. You don't know that I have a dagger in my room, and sometimes I hold it to my scales and think about pressing in.
And you don't know because I haven't told you, and I won't tell you because you won't listen. You'll dismiss it, like always, like you dismiss my choices, my personality, my gender. I'm not even going to send this letter to you. It's just for me to keep, to remind myself if, when my mind goes, that I was here. 
Even if no one remembers me.
From, Venus
----
Dear Mother,
I am writing another letter, because the first one vanished somehow, even though I tucked it safely into my desk, where no one ever looks. Or, at least, I thought I did. Maybe I didn't. It's getting harder and harder to discern the differences between reality and my little fantasies.
I don't even know why I'm writing this. I'm too much of a coward to even take it out of my room. Maybe I just need something for my talons to do and my mind to focus on, so I can't think about anything else. I shouldn't be allowed to think. Whenever I try, all I do is fall.
And no one's ever there to catch me.
From, Venus
----
Dear whoever's reading this,
I know that someone's been in my room. I know that whoever it was read my first letter, and my second. I pricked one of my claws with my dagger, so I would see the wound and know that I did put the second letter away. And there's no wind in my room, so the theory that it blew away is easily debunked.
So. Who are you, and why have you been reading my private letters? It's none of your business! Tell me who you are as soon as you read this. 
And forget you read my previous letters. They're jokes. I'm fine.
From, Venus
----
Dear whoever's reading this,
Who are you?
I know that you're not one of my friends (at least I think they're my friends, maybe they're not, maybe they're faking it), because I met with them today, and none of them spoke up. 
If you were Star Ruby, you would've pulled me aside and asked if I was okay. If you were Rosella, you would've blurted everything you read to everyone and demanded that I tell you why I wrote that. If you were Mantis, you would've put your wing around me and told me that you would be there for me, whenever I needed you, for whatever I needed you for. If you were Daystar, you would've looked up at the sky and said you had a vision of me getting hurt, and asked if everything was fine. And only I would've known that you were faking it, because only I know that Daystar never lets lunaself get visions. 
But you can't be my mother or my father either, because then I'd go into the living room one morning and see them sitting with a disappointed expression, clutching my letters in one talon. And they'd say "Venus, we thought you were getting better. You need to let us know when you feel like this. We're there for you," except they're not there for me, not ever, not even in my head. Because they can't deal with this, can't understand it. 
And trying only makes the voices louder for me, and pushes me closer and closer to the edge.
From, Venus
----
Dear whoever's reading this,
For some reason, you seem to want to understand me. I mean, you haven't written back, but all my letters have vanished, so I assume that you've read them. Or maybe I'm hallucinating that you did, or imagining that I ever wrote the letters at all. But still, even if you are just a hallucination, you actually listen to me, I think. So you get to know the truth.
I have to pair an image with every emotion or thought I have. I need to be able to visualize something, otherwise I can't even begin to understand it, or fix it. 
With whatever this is, these voices and hallucinations, I see a void. I don't know what's down there, no one knows what's down there, no one wants to know what's down there. And there's a ledge above it, barely big enough for a dragon to stand. I'm on the ledge, and my wings are clipped, and I'm all alone. Except for the voices.
They whirl around me in a tornado of noise, shrieking and whispering and yelling and insinuating. And they try to push me off, but I jump back and forth and sway and spin until I'm dancing to keep myself from falling into the endless void. But I can't keep my footing forever.
For now, I'm dancing on the edge.
But someday, I'll fall.
From, Venus You know who I am by now.
----
Dear whoever's reading this,
You probably think that I'm insane. 
I think that I am too.
I mean, I have all the symptoms. Sometimes I'm so angry for no reason. Sometimes I just can't be around my friends, and it's always hard for me to be around my parents. 
And the voices. I've been hearing them for as long as I can remember. They've only ever been silent once. 
When I dragged a dagger deep across my arm in a futile attempt to make them stop. I say futile because it worked, but only for a minute. And that made it worse, because now I know the only way to silence the voices forever. 
Except I'd have to silence my own as well to do it. 
And maybe that's an acceptable sacrifice for some peace.
From, someone who thinks that she's already too far gone.
----
Dear whoever you are,
You must be a coward. Why don't you show your face, or tell me who you are? You know who I am. So it's only fair that I should know who you are, and a few of your secrets too. 
That way I know you won't tell everyone about who I am.
Because I'll stab you in the back first. 
I always will.
----
Dear whoever's reading this,
I want to fall.
I want to soar high above a rocky mountain, and close my wings, falling, falling, falling.
It will feel amazing, the loss of control, the wind screaming past, and the knowledge that I could stop myself, could flatten out my wings and soar to safety.
But I won't.
I'll hit the ground and I'll shatter. I'll be as broken on the outside as I am on the inside.
And for the brief moment I have left, I'll love the impossible agony as much as I loved the thrill of the fall.
Because I caused it.
For a moment, I had control.
It was my knife that cut the string, not anyone else's.
And it'll probably be worth it.
----
Dear whoever's reading this,
I'm shaking.
I hate admitting it or acknowledging it, but I am. My arm is red and dripping onto the floor. 
I did that. I did that because Daystar showed up at my door this morning, telling me that lune loved me. And for a moment, I believed it. Something's wrong with me, something's very wrong with me, because I believed that Daystar, my forever aromantic best friend, had actually fallen for me too. And then I looked at Daystar, really looked at luna, and realized there was something off about luna. Then lune shifted into a beast of shadows and darkness and I thought it was real, I really did, and then it disappeared, and then I was drowning, drowning, then falling, falling and then I was burning and I couldn't stop and the fire raged around me and I fell to my knees and then I was back and Daystar was there, smiling, and then it happened again and again until I couldn't see straight, couldn't think straight, until everything was nothing and nothing was everything. . .
I'm rambling.
Deep breaths, Venus. In, and out. You're fine.
Basically what happened was all my fantasies, all my horrors, all my worst nightmares, they all came up, crashing over me, until I didn't know what was real and what was fake. I don't know what caused it. I hate not knowing what caused it. But it happened. 
And I stopped it by slicing open my own arm, until the pain shocked me back into reality. At least, I hope I'm in reality now.
But they'll keep coming. I know they will. They won't stop until my mind is nothing, until I'm gone. 
But I won't let that happen.
If I die, it's on my own terms.
----
Dear whoever's reading this,
I'm done.
I can't do this anymore.
I can't go back and forth between painful fantasy and equally-painful reality. I just can't. I can't keep stabbing myself to bring me back to the real world, and I can't keep acting the same around Daystar when I know how I feel and lune doesn't. I just can't.
I have a knife in my room. I'll use it to bleed myself out. I don't have much in me anymore. 
After I write this I'll do it.
If you do exist, and you're not some figment of my stupid imagination, tell Daystar and my parents the truth. They deserve to know.
I know I'm a coward for doing this.
But I'm done.
Love, Venus
----
Dear Venus,
I'm sorry Venus. I'm so, so, sorry. I never should've gone through your room. I never should've read your letters. And since I did, I should've had a vision, to see the undeniable future for you. I should've said something. I should've talked to you, and let you know that I was here for you, no matter what.
But you're gone now.
I went into your room to invade your privacy once again and read my next letter. And I found you, empty, gone. The final letter in your talon. 
I'm writing this in the impossible hope that there's a better place after this, and you'll find this letter, after it's buried with you, and know that I am truly sorry. I am sorry that you felt something that I could never feel back. I'm sorry that you were falling and screaming for help, but no one heard you, no one heard anything. 
I'm sorry Venus.
I love you.
From, Daystar.