A pale reflection stared back at her, stoic. With a single glance it was easy to describe exactly how Renee looked, how she felt. Suicidal. Tears should have flowed out of her like a river, but her pale eyes looked glossed over. She looked like a spitting image of death itself.

The image staring back angered her. Renee's hair, once thick and layered, was limp and oily. Her eyes sunk back into their hollows as if trying to hide from the world, screaming at people to look away. She had always been appropriately pale for a ginger, but Renee felt as if she could blend in with snow. She already always felt cold like a winter's day and her skin mimicked the emotion, even her freckles had turned lighter. No happy memory came to mind to try and stop her from the lethal thoughts.

Pain.

That was the only thing that she wanted to feel. Even as Renee slammed her fist through the glance of the mirror, the cuts did little to cause her physical or emotional pain. The crimson read flow of blood coming from them however did put a masochistic grin on her creatures, her heart warming slightly and accelerating it. Feeling even it ooze from her skin was something Renee could accept.

Stains of the drops of her blood slowly formed as she moved toward the small kitchen area of her apartment. Perhaps one of the few signs of life. The rented apartment was barren on any personal touches. The walls were taupe to push her away from life, the couches uncomfortable and plain. No paintings or pictures graced the walls or flowers on the table to show that someone lived there. It was the perfect place, distance and impersonal. The one thing that she could handle without breaking down completely.

Jack.

The thought of him had kept her moderately stable for so long. He wouldn't want her to loose her mind, to go to these measures. But at the same time he would have done exactly what Renee did. Whatever was necessary. That was exactly what she had done with Alan Wilson. She had brutally tortured him to the point that she would have killed him if it weren't for agents hauling her away. But the blood between her fingers, his blood between her fingers, had felt so right. The sickening cracks as she broke a bone and his pleads and shouts for mercy. Even Janis screaming outside of the holding cell for her to stop. All of it had only motivated her to continue to torture him. God knows what she would have done if federal agents hadn't kicked down the door.

Dry, cold laughter escaped at that thought. "I'm a freak." Renee said aloud, laughing louder. She had absolutely lost everything and there was nothing else to loose. That was, until she noticed alert of her phone lighting up. Seven new voicemails, it read. Who would contact her? Janis certainly hated her and she hadn't had any other friends that made it through the day's events.

Pressing two Renee listened to her monotone of a greeting before listening to them all. By the second one she was crying loudly, clutching her favorite knife's handle tightly. Four in she had collapsed to her knees, on the second to last she had curled up into a ball. But by all means, the seventh voicemail was the worst of them all. According to the time code it had been left only minutes ago, and Jack's voice on the other line broke her.

"Uh, hey Renee. I guess it's pretty obvious you don't want to talk to me… so sorry I keep calling. I'll stop, don't worry. You're probably happy now without me, right?" Dry laughter filled an awkward gap as if Jack was reassuring himself. "But if you ever want to talk… you know the number. Sorry. Bye, Renee."

The tight grip of her knife had left red imprints on the inside of her palms. Her phone snapped close and Renee through it across the room, wanting to hear it shatter but only for it to hit the couch. She gasped for air through her sobs, her chest heaving. Half of her face was placed against the cold tile, but she felt immune to the cool temperature. He sounded so happy. Without her. But she was in such a dark place. It was tempting to call him, but she couldn't do that to him. Renee couldn't drag him to the place was in. But she didn't want to be in the place herself. She couldn't stand it.

Sharp metal dragged against the delicate skin of her right wrist, opening up a deep wound that would remain a scar for her life. She repeated the scar next to it almost immediately. Renee didn't want to learn to live with it. She didn't want to live with. A pool of blood was starting to form from where she had laid down her arm on the tile. Dizziness succumbed her and she waited for it to be over.

Sorry, Jack.