I'm really happy with how this turned out. I was so worried I would mess it up. Please review, I'd love to know what you think
The poem is from: What Happened to Lani Garver
by Carol Plum-Ucci
Tracy's staring at the mirror…
Parts her hair with Daddy's razor.
Opens up a dark red river.
Combing blond and blood together
Never ceases to amaze her.
Cut
---
Mello was a cutter. Always had been, for as long as he could remember at least. Even as a little kid back at Wammy's, he understood that physical pain was a wonderful distraction from the violent storm always raging in his head.
'N'
"That's how you know I'll always be your best friend, Near." The blonde boy smiled at his younger companion, wiping his bleeding wrist off on his pants. The albino returned the smile, tears of joy and relief in his eyes.
"You really mean it?" Near whispered, allowing Mello to pull him into a hug, not caring that blood was soaking into his pure white pajamas. Near felt his friend's nod against his shoulder.
"Friends forever," Mello whispered back.
That had been years ago. Mello cringed at the memory. Near had betrayed him. Friends forever? Friends don't stand in the way of friend's dreams. Quiet tears escaped his eyes as he remembered how much he had cared for Near.
The body lying beside him rolled over. Mello brushed the wetness in his eyes away, not wanting his partner to see. He waited, holding his breath, hoping the sleeping figure beside him wouldn't wake. The tuft of red hair remained still under the sheets. Mello exhaled in relief.
He got out of bed cautiously and walked into the bathroom. He flicked the light switch, bathing the old, falling-apart room in florescent light. He splashed some cold water on his face, reaching out blindly for a towel. The rough fabric scratched against his skin.
He replaced the towel, holding his arm under the yellow light to look at his old scar. A small smirk appeared on his face as an idea ran through his head.
He got out a razor from the cabinet above the toilet. Testing its edge, he pricked his finger. A small drop of blood began to form. Satisfied, he turned his attention to his wrist again. He smiled wickedly, carving a small, neat line next to his old scar.
He rinsed the blood off, feeling better about himself. It was a simple way to get back at Near, a private victory, but a victory nonetheless. It would scar nicely he decided, admiring it under the bathroom light.
'M'
