I was daydreaming again. If I let Light out of confinement, my secret might be revealed. I would have to watch him all of the time, so he then would have the ability to watch me all of the time. There is a 30% chance he will find out my secret. But if we keep him in confinement we will learn nothing about the case.

"Ryuuzaki, the three of them look pretty bad in there, we should let them out," Matsuda suggested. For once, Matsuda was right.

A few days later, after the handcuffs are in place. First day with handcuffs.

"Ryuuzaki, what do we do if one of us has to go to the bathroom?" Light asked.

"The answer to that particular question depends on which one of us," I responded.

"Okay… me, then."

"Then I suppose I'll have to come with you to make sure you don't kill someone."

"For the last time, I'm not Kira!"

"Interesting…"

The younger man sighed. "Anyway, what if you have to go?"

I took into consideration my secret. "Either someone will watch you or you will come in with me."

"What's the discriminating factor?" He questioned.

"The time. As you already know, not a lot of people are here at three in the morning."

"…Oh."

I had to make sure I could get time for my secret. Otherwise I would be haunted by my past once more. I had to keep the pain at bay. I… had to cut. It had been a habit for me ever since Wammy's house. Emotions were useless and painful, and the only way to be free of them was to cut. The only problem was the scars they left behind. They were a pain to hide. Not that I didn't like long-sleeved shirts, but the sleeve can ride up pretty effortlessly. That's why I wore the wristband, right over where the scars were. The small hole on the inside also served as the perfect place to hide the razor that I used to cut with. I always had an escape whenever I needed it.

"Mr. Mogi, could you watch Light-kun for a few minutes?" I requested.

"Sure," he replied.

I unlocked my end of the handcuffs. I trotted into the door of the only one-person bathroom on the floor, closed it, and locked it. I was starting to feel a little emotional. I needed to fix that. I dug around my wristband until I found the small blade. I made a few quick incisions and proceeded to find alcohol swabs and swipe my now stinging cuts. I slid the blade back into the band and slid the band onto my wrist, flushed just to make it convincing, and washed my hands. Returning to work, I could feel my wrist demanding more, and I reminded myself to go a little deeper next time.