Kel came to slowly. Her mind seemed foggy and her stomach seemed empty. As she woke, she wondered why she felt so odd. Then, suddenly, something clicked in her mind. She lifted her shirt to find lightly scarred skin where there should have been a myriad of scars.

Kel swore in Yamani. She rained the heaviest curses from the gods upon the duke and upon Neal. She stumbled out of bed and went to her desk. Her knife was gone.

She opened the lower drawer of the desk locating the smaller, more discreet knife that she had hidden there "for emergencies". Pulling back her clothing, she began.

Neal walked out of the privy just as Kel began the first line across her skin. He sprinted to her and wrestled the blade away. Kel fought him, she bruised him in her attempts to hold onto sanity. The chair was knocked over and once the blade was retrieved, Kel attacked Neal out of anger. She hit him in the chest over and over and over. She cursed him in both languages as tears streamed openly down her face. After a few minutes, she no longer felt angry.

The anger left quickly leaving in its wake a helpless feeling. Kel wanted to run, to hide, to escape. She wanted nothing more than to be alone and away from her friend. She was unsure whether Neal would forgive her for calling him such terrible names and she wished that she could find a way to tell him that she had not meant it. At least not the way that it came out.

Her face gave away the storm of emotions within. Her lower lip trembled for a moment before sank to the floor beside her bed and covered her face with her hands. She felt so conflicted inside. What she wanted was for Neal to just leave her alone, but she also wanted Neal to give her a big hug and tell her that he still wanted to be her friend. She wanted him to say, I understand or even I used to do the same thing. She needed something from him, but she really wasn't sure what.

Whatever she wanted or needed, she was sure that he would hate her forever. She had put all of her strength into the blows that she had rained down upon him. He would bruise. He would most certainly never talk to her again, and he would probably tell everyone her embarrassing secret.

As she struggled not to cry, Neal knelt down in front of her and moved her hands away from her face. "I know you're angry with me." He said. "It's understandable, I guess. I've seen it before. But I've never had such a close friend hurting like this. I guess I wasn't prepared for this."

"How many others have there been?"

"A dozen or so. I usually get put on babysitting duty. I have quite a bit of experience stopping young noblewomen from cutting. Their maids, however, are much more difficult to stop." He said.

"Why" she asked. The redness slowly leaked away from her face as her mind found something else to be interested in.

"Maids are sneaky. They're good at lying and better at hiding things. Noblewomen are stupid. Once you take away their little knife they tend to run out of ideas. I've stopped maids from using needles, nails, and even broken glass before. Maids also tend to cut deeper although nobody is quite sure why. Noblewomen also seem to want to be caught and to want to get better. Maids don't want to get better."

A knock sounded on Kel's door. Neal looked a little worried. "Ask who it is." He whispered to her.

Kel obliged and heard the sound of Duke Baird's voice through the door. Neal quickly got up and went to the door.

*

"A word?" His father asked.

"I can't leave just yet, she's not ready." Neal hissed.

"Son, a word, now." The duke demanded quietly.

In the hall, Neal paced nervously with an eye to the door. Given a few minutes alone, he wasn't sure that Kel wouldn't reach for another blade right away. After a minute of silence he looked angrily at his father.

"You already know how this ends, son. Sometimes they don't want to get better yet. Sometimes they're just not ready. We've given the encouraging speech, we've checked her out to make sure she isn't seriously hurting herself. At this point, if she really wants to do it, there really isn't any way to stop her."

"No! I refuse to believe that. Kel is better than this. She is stronger than this." He argued softly.

"It's not a matter of better or of strength. People just stumble sometimes and sometimes they keep stumbling. It's not any different from the way alcoholics fall. It quickly spirals out of control and they never realize that they are a slave. And you should know from Sir Myles that you can't help someone who doesn't want to be helped."

"So what? I just stand here and watch her self destruct? Just watch her fall apart?" Neal demanded in a hurt tone.

"Unfortunately, it's all we really can do. She is stubborn and there really is no way to force her to be better. She will realize it eventually."

"What if I tell her that I won't be her friend if this continues. It'll give her a good reason to stop."

"You know better. Your friendship will not survive a stunt like that. Tell her that you care. Tell her that you don't like it, but that no matter what happens, you will always be there for her. Even when she is hurting. Even when part of that hurt is self inflicted."

As the Duke walked away, Neal slammed Kel's door. Kel sat on her bed. She floated on a cloud of apathy from the new cuts on her hip. A pin hidden under her bed had been her savior. She had used it to scratch a few shallow lines into her hip which were now safely hidden under layers of clothing.

Neal took one look at her and he knew that she had found a way. It was in the blank and far-off look in her eyes. It was in the way she did not blink and they way she did not move. He turned on one heel and marched from the room. His room was thanfully far enough away that Kel did not hear the screaming and breaking that would occur when he got there.