TW: ACTUAL s/h this time :P

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"I'm sorry, it told you to what?"

Marsh was looking at me with a concerned and confused expression.

It was the next day, and I'd just told Marsh about everything Printy said. We were sitting down across from each other at the dinner table, Marsh having finished her breakfast, and me still eating my milkless cereal.

Or, according to her, what my 'subconscious' had told me.

No, I didn't know what that word meant.

"Yeah!"

She facepalmed.

"Apple, that's... Not even a funny thing to joke about."

"I'm not joking!"

I pouted, getting another spoonful of cereal, but missing the bowl, since I wasn't looking at it.

She deadpanned at me.

"Okay, say you're telling the truth. Why haven't Bow, Dough or I heard of this supposedly sentient object here? Why don't they move at all? Why didn't they respond when you tried to 'introduce' them to me? Sounds like you're just a bad liar."

I tried to come up with a comeback, but couldn't, because she was kinda right.

"I'm not a liar! And of course I'm a bad liar, because I don't lie."

She somehow deadpanned again and sighed, rolling her eyes.

"Iiiiiiiif you say so, Apple..."

Ah, why won't she believe me...? 

"Okay, like, hiiiii, what's going onnnnn, how's life beeeen, you could ask about mine, but hey, that's long gone."

Bow popped out of the wall and practically jumpscared me, but I somehow didn't flinch.
As usual, she was typing something on her phone.

"And you're eating cereal without milk still? Seriously, like, what's the appeal?"

"It tastes good!"

"No it doesn't!"

"You can't eat!"

Marsh interrupted our banter.

"-Bow, have you ever heard of any other objects living here? Specifically a printer."

"Wait, what? What did I miss?"

"Apple's trying to convince me a printer told her to cut herself."

Bow looked at me with a weirded out and confused expression.

"What?"

"I know! And she's pretty committed, considering she tried to introduce me to it."

"Don't look at me like that! And it's not my fault Printy didn't respond!"

"Whaaatever..."

She stood up and just walked away.
Bow didn't say anything either, typing away on her phone.

Seriouly, just what was she writing...?

Didn't matter. 

When I finally finished my cereal, I got up from the table, pushed my chair in, and headed back to my room to draw.

When I got my paper and 64 pack of crayola crayons, I almost immediately started drawing random grey lines. But soon enough, those lines became a rooftop, with a staircase going back inside the building, handrailing, which I drew a bit too short to be actual handrailing, a couple of benches, tiled flooring and a blue sky, completed with a trio of 'w's supposed to be birds and a sun in the corner.

Then I just looked at the drawing, resting my face in my hand and kicking my feet back and forth.

Honestly, what was even going on? People don't just talk to me only. They never have. And most people haven't thought or tried to, unless they were stuck with me for some reason or needed me for a challenge. 

So why was I the only one hearing people? 

Were they playing a prank on me...?

What if I just proved Printy's existence to them, somehow?

How...?

Once, Marsh showed me some kind of philosophy book, which I searched up in a dictionary the meaning of, and in one part, there was something about 'I think, therefore I am.' 

So if they won't take my word for it, actions speak louder than words, right?

---

I was sitting down leaning against the broken bathtub in the bathroom, pressing down some toilet paper on the side of my wrist. 

Currently, I had four sheets of toilet paper on it, since it was pretty crappy, and the blood kept seeping through the paper.

Okay; maybe I overdid it a little bit.

Did I...?

I don't remember for how long, but for a bit, I kind of just held the paper against the side of my wrist, and hesitated, but after a bit, I managed to quickly glide it across, again and again, until it finally bled when I did it hard enough.

It stung, and when it finally bled, I made a sort of hissing noise, like a snake, but then smiled knowing it was over. So then I got the toilet paper and pressed it down, sitting back down again, letting it just bleed for a bit.

What if they think I'm lying again, or think it's an accident, or think it's not enough?

Should I do it a couple more times? or...?

But it hurts, and I have to try over and over to get it to work, and the paper gets all bloody on the ends...

Wait, I don't have to use paper... how would they know? 

I've cut myself accidentally on the scissors enough times... So if I did it on purpose, it shouldn't be too hard.

So I got some more toilet paper, went downstairs, because that was where I'd last left the scissors, and when I found them, I simply picked them up and went back upstairs to my room.

Marsh wasn't there, for some reason.

Would've been better if she saw me do it, for even more proof, but oh well.

I climbed to the top bunk, or at least tried, but immediately winced at the contact to my wound.
It only took a moment to recover, though, so I got back up pretty quickly.

I sat down against the headboard, with my pillow propped up against it, and looked at the scissors for a moment, opening and closing them, a bit of a crunch when the blades came back together.

Pretty sharp.

I tried to nip at my skin with the tips of the scissors, but it just hurt and didn't cut, so I decided to open the scissors again, and pressed the base against my arm, closing the scissors.

I immediately yelped and recoiled, almost flinging the scissors into my face.

It somehow wasn't bleeding yet... and it was v-shaped.
I deadpanned.
Doesn't take an idiot to notice that's not a papercut...

I tried to slice it diagonally, but it wasn't sharp enough to mark or make a cut, so I went back to making the v's. It hurt, yes, but I ended up getting used to it.

...Turns out, four more pieces of toilet paper was not enough.

It was only, what, seven or eight cuts? But I ended up smudging the blood that came out trying to wipe it off, and I had to go back to the bathroom.

When I finally got there, I tried to wipe it off with paper, but it had already dried, so I had to wash it off with water in the sink. It hurt when the water hit the cuts, but that was to be expected, they'd only just been thrust into existence.

I cleaned it off with a towel on the wall, hoping it wouldn't stain, and luckily it didn't, so I went back to my room again, pressing the toilet paper against my arm.

Then, because there was nothing else to do, I walked back to my room to get rid of the old toilet paper, because I'd kind of just left it there.

Did I deserve pain?

To be left by myself on idiotic island...?

To have no literary competence?

To feel confliction?

-No, this is stupid! Why am I feeling all this, anyway?

It hasn't happened before! Except for on idiotic island... -BUT that's besides the point!...
It's weird. 
I shouldn't be feeling like this, right?

Why am I even asking myself? It's not like I can just answer.

Ugh... Just... Still, why? How am I even supposed to answer any of this? First a printer told me to cut myself, I told my housemates about it, they didn't believe me, and then I did cut myself to prove I was told to, and now I'm here...

How am I even supposed to approach Marsh or Bow or Dough???

Emphasis on Bow. She'd probably take a photo or something.

Why did I think this was a good idea???

...Whatever. It'll be fine. I'll be fine! I'll be good! I'm good, right?

---

I was lying flat on my back, on my bed, staring at the ceiling.

I put the pressure off my arm, because it started feeling super cold, like ice, and that probably wasn't a good thing.

There was... absolutely nothing to do.

So, forgetting to put away both my drawing supplies, paper and bloody toilet paper, I managed to drift away from consciousness, even if only for a bit.

...

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word count: 1371

Hope you enjoyed! :>