ALERT! ALERT! The Chapter you are about to read goes into detail about self harm, and if the subject disturbs anyone, DON'T READ! I don't want views that badly. You have been warned of the content ahead, and this is one of the reasons I listed the content time as it is. This is a sensitive subject, and is not to be taken lightly by anyone.

Thank you.

~.~

Vivi's ability to make him talk was usually good that hour. She demanded to know what had happened, and Arthur told her everything from when the ghost came up to him on the beach. He recalled all the details, being careful not to leave out anything. Vivi gently placed her hand to her chin and bit her bottom lip, what she always did when she was thinking. "Well… It seems you've gathered some really useful information Arthur." He raised an eyebrow, a little skeptical.

"What happened to you while you were gone then?" He asked.

"I went around the lake to check out the boat house and other cabins. Cabins I, L, and M are empty. The bathroom that's really close to the lake has a few plumbing issues, and the boat rental house. I picked a lock-"

"You could've got us kicked out!"

"-but I made sure no one was around. The rental house was so boring though… It's only got a couple paddle boats and a few row boats. You'd think they'd spring to get a few motor boats so people can ski. I could have easily 'borrowed' a boat."

"We're supposed to be the good guys Vivi."

"I said 'could' Arthur. I didn't actually steal a boat." Vivi continued. "Cabin J had two old men, fishermen judging by the gear they had spread across their table."

"How do you know what was on their table?" Arthur asked.

"Same way I knew about the boats and paddle boats," Vivi answered plainly, getting a moan from Arthur.

"That's illegal…"

"Sherlock Holmes went through great lengths to find the information he needed." Vivi said, trying to justify herself.

"Sherlock Holmes is a made up character," Arthur replied, shutting down her evidence.

"Well fine then," Vivi said crossing her arms. "Since we don't have guns or super advanced equipment, I did it all the old fashioned way. Do you want to hear about the rest or not?"

"Go ahead."

"Cabin K is the one where the front desk girl is staying. I never caught her name… Anyway, I saw her inside her cabin baking something while whistling cheerfully."

"You're kidding right?" Arthur questioned, "She was so jittery at the counter… Maybe she felt safer in her cabin or something…"

"Maybe, but you can't rule out anything… I checked near the docks and found another boat by them. It looked just like the other boats in the rental house. I'm not really sure who'd using it, but the boat's oars were still wet. Someone had used them recently."

"Who would want to go out on a boat so late at night?" Arthur asked. "Sure the water looked nice, but it's so cold… I'd be too worried of falling into the water."

"You'd be worried about it no matter the circumstances Arthur," Vivi chimed playfully, making Arthur blush. "We've got to examine the main lodge and ask around tomorrow. We don't even know most of our neighbors on this side." Arthur sighed loudly and shook his head.

"I'm taking a shower and going to bed," He announced as he went by Vivi.

"What if I wanted in first?" Vivi asked, crossing her arms. "Were you even going to ask me?" Arthur looked over his shoulder at her and shook his head.

"You take too long V," He said gently as he made his way to his room. He found some pajamas to switch into, then took the extra time to dig into his backpack. I know there's a spare screwdriver in here somewhere… After pulling everything out of his backpack, he finally found it at the very bottom of his largest pocket. This reminds me of searching for pencils in high school… Arthur grabbed a box and carried it into the bathroom with him. He closed the door behind him and marveled at how small the bathroom was. It had a toilet, with a sink to the left, and a walk in shower on the right. It was so crammed together, Arthur barely found room to sit down. He set the box on the counter and opened it, revealing a series of syringes and a bottle of lidocaine.

It's a routine by now… Arthur stripped off his shirt before he touched anything. He felt a sleeve catch on the metal briefly, before the shirt came free and fell to the floor. Arthur took off the gloves he had been wearing, setting them on the sink beside the box. He took a syringe in one hand and the lidocaine in another. He filled up the syringe with 10 mLs of 2% lidocaine, then systematically gave himself five 2 mL injections all around his arm. When he was finished, he gave the drug a few minutes to take full effect, before taking the screwdriver in his right hand. It was a really simple task. The way the metal was designed, the main arm slipped over the housing, and connected on the inside. He had added a few screws on the outside for extra insurance.

He took out the screws and pulled the arm gently, making it move slowly apart. The wires became visible, the main cluster connected to the now exposed nerve. Arthur carefully detached the wires, thankful that the lidocaine worked for at least thirty minutes. He laid the metallic arm aside and turned on the shower water. He used his good hand to easily unbutton his pants and stripped, the act perfected through a lot of practice. Arthur caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, his eyes falling to the reflection of his exposed stump.

He stared at his own admittance of guilt, his eyes starting to tear up at the sight. I've never been proud of myself for that day… Lewis was my best friend…but I'm such a coward… I've always been a coward… I can only admit my guilt to myself… He stared at his arm, then gently ran his hand over the seven thin letters that were carved into the stump, just above the metal housing.

TRAITOR

The letters had been carved by a kitchen knife, shortly after he had returned home. The memory flashed before his eyes.

His mother led him into the house, her arm wrapped around his torso, as she slowly led him back to his room. She helped him to his bed and made him lay down, the medicine making him too drowsy to resist her. His mom said something too him, perhaps telling him to get better. He didn't know… Her voice didn't reach him. He stared up at the ceiling long after his mom left. He stared and stared, not really thinking consciously, until he fell asleep.

Sleeping was a mistake.

The images ran through his head, freezing and replaying over and over again.

Cave. Fork. Green. Push. Blood.

Then he was gone.

Arthur saw the images come back, the eerie voice whispering in his ear, with his own thoughts shouting back. It wasn't my fault. I didn't mean to. Lewis was my best friend. I never wanted to hurt him. His own thoughts turned poisonous in an instant.

Jealous. Scared. Intimidated.

He tried to push them away, but they only got worse.

Angry. Hateful. Miserable.

No more… No more!

Liar.

I was scared.

Thief.

I never wanted to steal Vivi away from him! I just felt left behind! I trusted that Lewis would take care of me!

You didn't take care of him.

He was my friend!

Traitor.

He bolted up in bed and trembled incredibly, then went into the bathroom. He had sworn long ago never to do this again, but the person he made the promise to was gone. He swung open the cabinet and pulled out a razor blade. The word repeated in his head, over and over again as the blade pressed against his skin.

Traitor. Traitor. TRAITOR!

He felt his skin sting as blood come from the first cut, dripping down the small stump before dripping onto the floor. Seeing his blood gave him a feeling of sweet relief, like all the horrible thoughts were falling away, leaving him in the droplets.

But they returned too quickly, the word repeating itself inside his head. He grit his teeth and made another cut, followed by another and another. Each cut stung, then a moment of relief would wash over him, but each time the moment ended faster and faster. He continued to cut into his arm until all seven letters shone red in his skin. Was he even aiming to do this? T-R-A-I-T-O-R. There it was, his own admittance of what he truly was on the inside.

His eyes watered as he dropped the blade, then he reached his hand up and dug his nails into some of the cuts. Why couldn't that feeling of relief stay? Why couldn't the pain just drain out? Why was he left feeling this way? He felt sick, and he saw himself in the mirror.

He felt ashamed.

He grabbed some toilet paper and pressed it harshly against the cuts, looking over his shoulder nervously for someone to appear. He held his hand onto it as the toilet paper soaked it up slowly. He threw the filthy pieces into the toilet and grabbed new ones. When the bleeding finally slowly, Arthur found some bandages under the sink and placed them on hoping no one would ask about them. He needed long sleeved shirts. He didn't want anyone to see what he'd done. He used more toilet paper to wipe up the blood on the floor and threw it in the toilet as well before flushing it.

The water was pink as the contents spun and disappeared. Arthur stared down at it bitter, then leaned his head back and began to scream, tears rolling down is face.

When the memory faded from his mind, Arthur found himself looking down at his left arm, tracing the letters that were now only white scars. He looked back into the mirror and found himself trembling again. "I'm such a coward…" He mumbled softly, his reflection mimicking him perfectly. "It's all my fault…and I can't…even tell anyone… Not even…for the people I love…the most…" Arthur hung his head and stepped into the shower, the water having cooled down, and forcing him to adjust the knobs again. He washed his hair and even added some conditioner, and it was as he was reaching for the soap that his eyes fell on it.

His razor was sitting only inches away from the soap. His hand reached out and clutched it, his eyes closing gently as he brought it to his neck.

This will be the last time.