Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.

-Albert Einstein


The sun was shining, bright and clear. Several wispy clouds drifted lazily across a clear blue sky. A cool, refreshing breeze blew lightly across the Asphalt Cafe. And as his warm, sticky, deep crimson blood spilled across the ground, Sinjin van Cleef began to sob.

He had always paid attention to Her. He knew Her better than anyone else. Shunned, ignored, and rejected, he had never given up. But now, he was beginning to lose hope. Time after time, humiliating failure after failure, She had cast him aside. He was worthless, a failure.

That, of course, was no surprise. He was constantly reminded of his uselessness. His tormentors loved to abuse him, to scar him, to watch him bleed out onto the unforgiving road. Did anyone care?

Of course not, he was just a worthless boy.

Today was... different. The usual beating was carried out with ruthless efficiency. Strikes were quick and hard, re-shaping his bruised and beaten body. The blood was still the same, a deep crimson. But then, something new.

A knife. Jagged, and forged in such a way as to cause maximum pain upon impact. Thrust into his spine, carving out chunks of bloody, warm flesh. One word was etched permanently into his back.

Worthless.

The culmination of sixteen years of bullying, neglect, and abuse, compacted into the space of a single word.

Worthless.

It was the purpose of his entire existence. This was the meaning of his life. A slave to others, never satisfied or given a slight chance at happiness. This was Sinjin van Cleef, struggling to survive in his melancholy existence.

That was how Jade West met the real Sinjin van Cleef, the broken, bruised, tormented shell of a boy, once so bright and energetic.

"S-Sinjin?"

The boy raised his head, eyes widening in fear. "J-Jade... It's not w-what..."

The girl's eyes widen for a fraction of a second, before snapping back into their usual state of apathy. She ignores him, focusing on the blood pouring from his wounds. She presses Her mouth to the fresh wounds, lapping up the salty, warm blood.

"You taste... different."

She smiles, a cold, sadistic grin. He notices the girl's lips, dripping with his warm blood. The boy stares up at Her, fearful, uncomprehending.

"I... J-Jade? Y-You aren't... You know..."

She laughs. A cruel noise, reminding him of his insignificance, his failings, his worthlessness.

"No. Don't you dare mention goddamn Twilight. But you... interest me."

She gently picks him up off the ground, holding him as if he was a bride. He looks up at Her face, and shudders.

"J-Jade... Where are we going?"

But she refuses to answer.

The hospital is sterile, and lifeless. The only sound is the constant beeping of the machines dripping fluids into his weakened, bruised body. It's late at night, a pale beam of moonlight illuminating the empty room, devoid of life. He groans, realizing that he has no idea where he is.

A note flutters into his lap. A neat scrawl, definitely written by a girl.

{It's Jade.

But you knew that, didn't you?

If you're reading this then you're awake.

The doctors were worried.

You lost a lot of blood.

Get better. Or else}

He sighs. He knows She'll be the only visitor, if She even bothers to show up. Why would She? He's just a failure. A worthless, disgusting failure.

He rolls over, and closes his eyes, hoping for the emptiness of sleep.

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A dark room, illuminated by a single candle.

A sudden gust of wind extinguishes the candle.

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And then light. Bright, blinding light. He blinks, still half-asleep. Someone stands at the foot of the bed, a cross expression on her face. It's Jade.

"Van Cleef. Get. Up."

He obeys, because, honestly, it's Her. What else is he supposed to do? It would be so much easier to just lay back, close his wearied eyes, and drift off into the nothingness of sleep. But disobeying Jade West was like... was like... well, suicide.

He would have laughed at the analogy, but then the only person who acknowledges his existence would probably think he was mental. Well.. he was. Those medical forms said so, in black and white, but he supposed that She really didn't have to know that...

'It's not like She cares anyway,' he thought bitterly. 'I mean, why would She waste Her time on something as pathetic and unimportant as m-'

"Van Cleef. What did I tell you?"

"S-Sorry Jade..." he stutters. "I just, I-I didn't think anyone would bother, well, you did, and I'm glad, I really am, but, that's not the point, because I mean, well, nobodyexceptformaybeyoubutev enthenIhighlydoubtitcaresabo utaworthlesspatheticnerdlike me."

Her eyes soften, just barely. Maybe, possibly, even a small amount of moisture leaking from Her stormy glare. But that had to have been just a trick of the light. There was no way, no chance what-so-ever that someone like Her could feel sympathy for something like him.

But then, She smirks, the softness gone, replaced by a hard, cold, unforgiving glare.

"I don't fucking care, retard. Just get ready to go. School starts in an hour, and the goddamned doctors told me that since I was the only person who bothered to visit you in this shithole, I was generously volunteered to help you, a fucking disgrace to humanity, get around school. I could care less about your problem, but then I'd be dead. Oh, and by the way, no one cares about your sorry ass, not even the mentally challenged monkeys who were high on crack when they decided to adopt you."

"B-But J-Jade... I d-don't have any c-clothes..."

She grins evilly, a cold chill runs down his spine. "Aright then, loser. I'll get you your clothes, and in exchange... Dance for us, my little failure."

The car ride is particularly tense. Jade sits in one corner, Her body coiled and ready to spring, a viper poised to attack its prey.

"God, where the hell is my vodka!"

He cowers in fear, whimpering, ready for another onslaught of pain and suffering.

But She merely snickers. "Heh, loser. Quit sniveling and hand me my fucking mug."

He nods quietly, obediently. "Y-Yes Jade. Whatever you want. Just don't upload that video to the Slap..."

But he, Sinjin van Cleef, lies in the other. A meek, cowardly, frail shell. A damaged human being. And there he lay, slowly, visibly dying.

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Blood. Pools of sticky, crimson, warm blood.

"H-Help... Someone? A-Anyone... Please..."

Hollywood Arts got a new mural that day, a beautiful design of splotches and swirls, inexplicably one shade. Crimson brown.

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Led into Hollywood Arts, pulled violently behind Jade, he expects a bad day. He's right.

"Wow, that's just goddamn low. How much did you pay her?"

More stares. Still dragged past, now approaching the center of the hallway.

"Fucking rapist. What did you blackmail her with?"

At the center of the hallway, everyone's eyes on him. No one yet noticing Her.

"Oh my God, what the hell is THAT doing with her?"

Someone finally notices.

"Ew! That little shit must have some kind of diseases. I wouldn't trust myself around it."

Dragged past, towards Her locker.

"Ja-ade, c'me-eere. Give Tori a squeeze."

Her brain finally registers the reality of the situation.

"Oh. My. Fucking. God. You... It... That can't be... It isn't, well, you know..."

She bends down, mock whispering.

"It's not... Clean."

Anger.

"Piss off Vega. You're a bloody whore. Bitch, why am I not drinking my cranberry vodka?"

"Y-Yes Jade. So sorry."

A smirk.

"Good boi."

A glare.

"Now, y'all, the people I associate mah-self with are totally fine y'all, and I'm so damned happy all the time to fucking judge everyone else because I am cleah-ly the most amah-zing person y'all. And I sucked Ryder's cock yesterday because I was bored y'all. So Vega, piss off."

Shock.

"I DONT TALK LIKE THAT! And who the fuck told you?"

A cruel smirk.

"If you insist... The whore you had sex with a week ago."

Her face burns with embarrassment and anger.

"THAT WAS CAT, YOU BITCH!"

"My mistake."

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A/N:

Well, a huge thanks to Loopy One for beta-ing this story, he gave me plenty of inspiration. Thanks man.

I can't decide. Shall I leave this as an undefined, unclear oneshot, with no real ending, or continue deeper into the melancholy of Sinjin van Cleef?

Reviews are the answer. Please, take 10 seconds of your life to review, and help me decide. I'll give you cookies :)