It was a gloomy day in Death City. It was the anniversary Of Lord Death's wifes untimely end. On this day, nobody really saw Shinigami-san. And Death the Kid himself was solemn. Also, on this day, Kid's OCD was substantually worse. Liz and Patty just smiled and bared with it for the most part, but this time was different. All kid could talk about was symmetry. He had gotten out of his chair in the middle of a lecture to straighten Steins' pens, and then went back to his desk, sighing heavily to himself. In a few of his classes, he even started having attacks and Liz had to walk him out. After being not being able to breath, and getting sick multiple times he had called it quits and decided to ditch the rest of the day.

88888888 Kids P.O.V 88888888

It's cold out here... That tree... so unstraight. It's disgusting. I have to stop myself from smashing it to pieces as I continue walking down the narrow dirty streets back to my disgustingly unsymmetrical mansion. Liz and Patty are still at school... I guess Ill just go home...But.. I dont want to be alone. I wonder if Maka would... no. She wouldnt leave soul. They are dating after all... gah... To be honest I was really scaring myself, My Symmetry obbsession has never been this bad... I hate myself. Im disgusting. All i do is cause people pain and an eye sore. I shouldnt even be here. My father doesnt want me. I remind him of mother and all that does is make him upset... Why am I here? Symmetry... all I can think about... all I want. Maka, the one who Im so desperately in love with, could do so much better than me. Why would she ever bother? Its taking over my mind. Im sick. I think Im really sick. And Im scared...

I dont have a reason to be here.

Im disgusting.

Garbage.

88888888 Kid's Mansion 88888888

I yank the door open, not bothering to close it, and rush up the stairs, ripping a chunk out of my suit and brusing my ribs in the process. I fling open my bedroom door, but this time turn to shut and lock it tightly. I sprint to my bathroom, and turn the water on in the sink. As I splash my face, I look into the mirror. So many imperfections. So grusome. Other than then obvious white lines in my hair, I started to see other things. Some eyelashes were longer than others, there was a bigger frown line on my right side then my left. I think. I couldnt feel the water anymore. I glared into the mirror and before I knew it was fist connected with the glass, shattering it across the bathroom floor.

Something warm rain down my arm and dripped off my fist, which hung at my side. My right hand had pretty deep cuts and shards of glass sticking out of it. My left didn't. My right did. My left... didn't. I saw what I had to do. I look down, and yanked the drawer out of its place,dumping the neatly organized contents into the sink, then I put the drawer upside down on the top of the shower head. I grab the toilet seat, rip it out of its place, and slam it against the cream looking tile on the counter, smashing and cracking pieces in my rage. I continue.

After my little remoldeling job, I stand back and smile at the work ive done, as I wipe the sweat off my forehead with my left arm. Not my right. That stays down. The bathroom is now very uneven and asymmetrical. Next i should do my room. But first, theres me.

I look down at my body, at my skin. Its too,... there. To intact, too perfect and unscathed. I rummage around in my sink, looking for something i used every morning, and pulled out the grey razor i used to detail my eyebrows every chance i got. But I wasnt bothering with those today. I take the razor, and pull out the razors within the plastic.

This will be great. I wont ever be symmetrical again. Ill feel the pain i cause everybody who knows pain I cause Maka... I take the razor, and push it against my shoulder. It tugs, and throbs a little bit. No good. I intake a breath, bite my lip, and push harder. This time the razor breaks the skin, and the razor falls out of my shaking hand and falls against the floor with a clink. Drops of blood hit the floor, in little imperfect circles moving in different patterns. I watch the blood for a moment more, and stretch my arm out, which tugs on the cut and i intake a fast breath. It felt kind of... good. Not only was i even more imperfect, but i felt tingly inside.

I pick up the razor and repeat. The second one is deeper, then the third, and fourth. Suddenly Im not standing on my own two feet anymore. Im on the ceiling, looking down at myself. I feel weightless and close my eyes. I only notice im loosing conscienceness when I hit my head on the bathroom floor.

My eyes flutter close, I hear a humming.

Then a thud, and then I hear somebody screaming.

"KID! Kid No! Kid?!" I feel a hand on my cheek.

It sounds like Maka... No. Please maka, I dont want you to see me like this. I'm dirty. Theres dried blood on my face.

I hear myself whisper, my sounds sound puny and sad. I'm not sad...

"M-maka... Help..."

My mouth closes, and everything goes black. I cant hear maka anymore.

Am I dead?

Or finally alive?