Jackson didn't follow the others as they walked off, focusing more on calming his mind and rooting himself in the moment. Whenever he thought back to the past, it always went back to that night, and that made it very easy for Apophsis to take control. Something that he really didn't need right now. Reaching into his jacket, he pulled out his silver switchblade, looking over the intricate details in the engraving, the glistening of it's sharp edge. He placed his thumb down on the blade and drew it down, hissing slightly at the pain as it cut his skin. It was a shallow cut, but deep enough to draw blood, the crimson liquid rising up from the cut, pooling slightly before the wound overflowed and it dripped down from the appendage to the forest floor.
Marvelous, isn't it, the feeling of cutting flesh. Take this blade and slice that bossy bitch to pieces. She thinks she's better than you are, you can see it in her eyes, so pull them out and devoured them right in front of these fools. Make them run, make them scream, save them from their doom by becoming the monster, give in to me and just let your mind fade into nothingness. Apophsis' snake-like whisper, instead of drawing him into the insanity, brought forth a deep anger, and from that anger, he felt strength pool into him. He hated the world, the world hated he him, and he hated himself, a cycle that began with him, so why not end it. Any cycle of hatred couldn't be good for those involved, so in this line of thinking, the world would be a better place for him. . . and he be better off with out the world to fuck with his head.
Taking the blade in a solid grip, he steadied his breathing emptied his mind of all thoughts but one. It wasn't complex, nor overly meaningful in the long run for anybody. It was a simple question that he asked himself every time he did tried this. Will anyone miss you if you die? and the answer was always the same. His father and mother had always preferred his older sisters in everything, leaving him to the way side no matter what he did to catch their attention. They were the successful ones, they never had any flaws, while he was the one who only got their love, their attention, their pity when he all of his friends, his real family, had been murdered. And even that hadn't lasted, as he hadn't told his parents about what he was doing to day, where he would be, or that he was even going out. He had just left, and even though they knew his number, they hadn't even tried calling once. I'm nothing to anyone, not anyone here, not anyone anywhere.
Don't be that way Jacky-boy, I'll always need you, you know that.
Looking at the blade, he remembered what Mary had said to him, to have this demon inside him 'check it's privilege', as she had put it. Show Apophsis who was really in control. He began to spin the knife deftly around his finger, not really paying attention as he stared off into space. You're right, Apophsis, you do need me, don't you? Jackson chuckled, twirling the knife one more time, before he suddenly jabbed it right at his right eye as fast and as hard as he could. He let out a gasp as the blade bit deeply into flesh and even nicking bone, a good deal of blood coming from the wound. Anyone looking back would only see hims sitting there, holding his eye with one hand, and an etheral claw jutting from his elbow with the wrist of his other hand in it's grasp, soon making him drop the bloody knife it held.
Still holding his eye, he got up from his place on the ground, the claw fading into mist to recede back into his arm, and picked up the blade only to pocket it soon after. From his mouth came a dry chuckle, his visible eye holding a sense of victory as he walked forward, dropping his other hand to show the damage that had been done. His eye, trailing a fading silver flame, was on harmed, but there was a rather ugly gash carved into his cheek, and it was bleeding somewhat profusely, though the glow was soon reinvigorated as a ghostly version of the cheek formed over it, applying pressure to the area and keeping it any more blood from coming out, even shifting in some veins so that the blood could still flow through.
Don't ever forget that, Apophsis, you need me a lot more than I need you, and I'm a hormonal, depressive, neglected, suicidal teenager. Not a good host when you think about it, is it? Another chuckle came from him as he walked on to the beach where the others where, probably thinking he was losing it. He wasn't sure they weren't right about that. So you better keep on your fucking toes, and check your damn privilege, or else I might decide to use something a bit more certain than a knife. Like a train, or jumping of a bridge, maybe even a cliff if I'm really feeling dramatic. Think you can prevent that, ya demon bastard. The lack of response from inside him made his smile all the wider.
Walking up to Mary, he gave her a whopping bear hug, actually spinning her around a little before setting her down and holding her shoulders with a large grin on his face. "I can't thank you enough for that advice, seriously. Hell, if it wouldn't be awkward as hell, I'd kiss you right now. Now then, since I was dealing with an internal crisis on how much my life sucks, I missed all of what was just said, so can somebody run me through it again, and is August all right, she's not looking too good." He let go off Mary and started digging into his back to pullout his first aid get, the ghost cheek fading a way, followed by a sudden gush of blood from his wound, though he quickly stifled it with some cotton, using his other hand to douse some cotton balls in alcohol, then attached them to some gauze tape, before applying it to the wound, That would do for a temporary fix for now, he'd have to stitch it up when he got home. "Man, that is going to leave an ugly as fuck scar." He absentmindedly commented as he fixed himself up, not really paying attention to what anyone else was doing at the moment.
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