Nearly a month later, Colt was at her breaking point. Ember danced around the topic, as did Dawn and Adam. She had no one to talk to, and Jerome was still fighting with her. Their fights became more and more heated as her grief and temper were stretched thinner every day. She was at her wits end when she received a phonecall at five in the morning.

"Hello?"

"Is this Miss Fountain?"

"Yessir. Who is this?"

"This is the Department of Defense. We have a message from Sergeant Meghan for you."

Colt paused for a minute. She hadn't heard from Snake since she had entered the Marines years earlier. Why would she contact her now?

"Ma'am?"

"I'm still here. What is the message?"

"The Sergeant wanted me to inform you of your friend Sergeant Jordan's death."

Colt paused yet again. Apache? Was that who Snake meant?

"Sergeant Gavin Jordan?"

"Yes ma'am."

"How did it happen?"

"He blew himself up."

"You mean he was blown up by the enemy?"

"No, ma'am. I mean he blew himself up."

"He committed suicide?"

"Yes, Ma'am, that would be how the look of things are."

"Thank you for delivering the message."

"Of course."

After the man hung up, Colt sat there, stunned. She was too stunned to even cry. Apache? Dead? Committed suicide? Impossible.

Then again, he always had been unstable since Snake and he had fought. Then to factor in the PTSD from previous deployments….it wouldn't be too far fetched.

Now the tears came, as she remembered what a good friend he had been. He and Bolt….just gone, just like that. Colt rocked, sobbing hysterically. Who was she supposed to tell? No one would want to speak of it, no one would get it. When would all of this pain end? she wondered. And why did it have to happen now, when she was already depressed and wanting to disappear?

That night, Colt sat in bed, crying faintly. She wouldn't go to sleep, her dreams would be just as hellish as they were when she was awake. Sliding to the floor, she took out her pencil sharpener. Grabbing at the screw, she hastily removed the blade. It shone in the moonlight, looking oddly beautiful and inviting. Colt hadn't cut since she was in middle school…..but it would help everything, she told herself. Rolling up her sleeve, she drew the blade across her skin in long, deep lines of crimson. The blood trickled out, pooling on her arm, thankfully not dripping.

She tiptoed to her bathroom, letting the blood flow down her arm into the sink. Colt watched it, numb to every feeling, physical and mental. Washing away the blood, she cleaned the cuts and slipped into a black turtleneck, hiding her arms. Her scars were just more bait for people to judge her on, and she didn't need that. But at least the pain was gone.

The next morning, Jerome looked curiously at her long sleeves. Had it been midsummer, her sleeves would've been desperately obvious and out of place, but since it was almost December, the only strange thing was the fact that they covered her hands.

For the next few days, Colt lay low in her room and kept cutting. Scars covered her arms, and when there was no more room, she cut her legs and hips. She began to wear long jeans and long sleeves, and since it was still early November and not terribly cold yet in North Dakota, everyone gave her jacket and long pants some odd looks. Thankfully, no one asked her if she was okay. She hated lying.

One day, Colt and Jerome and Ember were doing a recording on the Walls server Ember liked so much. She had made Jerome and Colt do the recording, knowing they needed to vent, mainly because of their horrible relationship. Suddenly, when Ember wasn't looking, Colt's sleeve slipped up to reveal some of her scars. Jerome caught it though, and as she hurriedly went to pull up her sleeve, he gave her a strange look. It wasn't anger, like it usually was, nor was it sadness. It was…..was that concern in his eyes? Why would he be concerned if they hated each other so much?

Shaking the thought off, she glared at Jerome and went back to the recording, not once meeting his eyes or even looking at him. The entire time, however, she felt his eyes on her, looking for any sign of weakness. Colt steeled herself, laughing as best she could and playing hard. When the recording ended, she excused herself quickly and ran back to the apartment.