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He feels tired. Tired and weak but that’s the last thing that he can allow himself to be so he clenches his fists and swallows his anger.
It’s been like this too long, ever since that damn ranger with his unnatural powers shamed him, burning through his skull into his brain, burning out the only thing he could really feel as an Uruk.
Adrenaline.
And he missed it. Missed the thrill of battle, the pounding of his heart during a good fight, that hint of fear, heightening his senses...all gone and he had the ranger to thank for it.
The warchief he's under has got them holed up in a stronghold, and there's enough room to allow each captain his own quarters so he's about as comfortable as an Uruk could hope for and has his own command...so why does he feel so...empty? He knows why, of course. No enjoyment, no adrenaline, nothing. It’s enough to make any sane Uruk crack at the seams, but he’s stronger than that, so he carries on.
He once tried letting an enemy get a hit on him, just to feel something, but the poisoned blade had almost killed him and he didn’t want to die. Did he? He isn’t even sure of that anymore.
He’s sharpening his blade in his quarters when it happens, he slips and slices his hand. It’s not nearly deep enough to cause any lasting hurt but it stings and he feels something that he’s not felt in so long.
Satisfaction .
He doesn’t dare cut himself on purpose, that’s not normal, why would a member of a warrior race purposefully incapacitate themselves? But he feels his resolve weaken and six days later he carves three lines into the flesh of his upper arm.
And he enjoys it.
So he finds himself doing it again, when he's angry, when he's anxious and most of all, when that damn emptiness comes creeping in, he locks his door and slices into his arm, once, twice, three times, and then more as his addiction grows and three just isn't enough anymore, cuts deeper and watches the blood run down his arm and drip onto the floor, anything anything to feel alive again.
And before he realizes it, it's to the point where he can’t go a single day without it. Just like the thrill of the battles that once captivated him, his rush has now become self-mutilation. Whenever he lifts his blades over his head in the training yard or against an enemy, he feels every single cut he’s ever made sting and burn in unison and it keeps him fighting, fighting harder than he’s ever done before.
He finds that he runs out of room very quickly, he tries cutting over almost healed wounds, but the pain is the kind that sets his teeth on edge so he stops, moving to his leg instead. First the left, then the right, the same pattern as before. A few times he cuts too deep and can’t stop the bleeding so he’s forced to swallow his pride and go to the healer to stitch him up. The fifth time he goes, as he’s about to leave, the healer touches him on the arm and locks eyes with him.
All he sees there is pity and it makes him want to scream.
The next day, he’s got to assist training, seeing as the absolute glob of a captain that’s just been promoted has no idea how to train recruits and he’s dreading it. He doesn’t want all those eyes on him if he can avoid it.
He thinks perhaps he’s done enough damage to himself if he can’t have others even so much as look at him. So he stops. He locks his blade in a drawer and taps his fingers irritably on the windowsill.
it feel so unsatisfying, doesn’t scratch that itch that he has constantly and he barely sleeps that night.
When he gets to the training yard the next morning, the other captain’s eyes widen when he sees the huge, bloody slashes all over him, but thankfully, says nothing. Anyone with eyes can see that they’re obviously self-inflicted but they don’t know each other well and he’s sure that the other captain would rather pretend that nothing is wrong.
He’s got a blood brother - Kothug, but he’s far away right now. He’s not sure what his brother would say about all of this if he could see him now. He feels like he could cry with shame just thinking about it. How did he let it get this bad? He misses him, but a part of him almost wants his blood brother to stay away.
(He doesn’t want his brother seeing him like this).
Later on he’s sorting through a box of weapons and can see the new captain talking with some others. They glance in his direction and he’s sure they’re talking about him and the thought infuriates him yet also fills him with dread.
He carves three new lines that night. What else can he do?