After tidying up her room and putting it how it was before a stupid idiot named Death The Kid invaded, Maka flopped onto her bed. She'd checked the time on the flimsy plastic watch that hung on the wall. There were 25 more minutes of Group Therapy. Then they'd come. They'd seek her out and pull her away from her small safe haven. It was clear Maka didn't want this to happen and would rather be left alone. But, then again, she was in a mental hospital. It's not that they didn't disrespect privacy (however much Maka believed they did) but giving a patient too much privacy could have negative effects. Also Maka was a patient who couldn't be left alone for two long and had to have more special treatment. Hooray for her. Not many others were this privileged. If anything, the extra attention just made Maka fall into more despair and depression. The girl thought she was meant to be getting better not worse.

How could she get better anyway. Her future was already ruined, already tarnished. There'd be no place to go and no place to live. Death would be her greatest achievement. It was her one goal. Her very being yearned for it. But unless she found some way to break through the security or escaped from this hell, well, death was far, far away from her grasp.

Maka sighed. Was it really the time to get philosophical? What was the point of thinking about something that would never happen? However she could always try a window. Maybe find something to smash one in the bathroom. The fourteen year old supposed there were ways to get out. Yes, yes there were! There were many, many ways! And Maka could reach them all!

Crona's small pink head bobbed out of view. Their mother was setting something up in the empty white living room. They stifled a whimper. Medusa was a harsh unloving mother. Up until Crona turned four, she'd been somewhat kinder. She had given them at least one meal per day and didn't experiment on them for months at a time and the abuse wasn't as horrible and cruel as it was now. And today, on Crona's fifth birthday, she had something extra planned. Being the youngest person to ever be diagnosed in Death City with schizophrenia was just one of the many experiment results they're mother had been glad to achieve.

Medusa stood, silent and tall, sinister and cruel. She sensed her child hiding behind the doorway, could see their pale pink fingers gripping the hard wood. She played with a soft smile. "Crona, I know you're there. Come out for mummy, please." She could tell the small child was trembling as he drew closer to her. She moved to the side to expose the puppy the family of two had bought two months ago. It was the happiest time of Crona's life. A real friend to play with.

However, more often than not, Medusa experimented on it, ignoring the cries of Crona.

Next to the puppy was a nine inch, all black daggers. On the front, the name Ragnarok was carved on. No! She couldn't be that nasty! Crona felt tears prickle at their eyes and they hid their face away from sight. Medusa grabbed them by the hand and dragged them over to the puppy. The poor thing still had life in its eyes.

The pink haired child could hear Ragnarok call out to him, teasing them and abusing them. A migraine overcame Crona as they silently cried, their face contorted ever so slightly, still hidden in their arm. Medusa rolled her eyes. They were weak. It was pitiful, watching them cry. She had told them countless times to embrace Ragnarok and accept him and deal with their problems when she wasn't around yet the child was as ignorant as ever.

"Crona, this dagger is yours. You're going to do many important things with this dagger. I named it after your little friend so that they can help you use it." She patted their head as if she knew what was happening. Crona almost screamed out in pain. The young child muttered to them self. "I can't deal with this, I can't deal with this, I can't deal with this..." Their mother rolled her eyes again and bent down to pick up the dangerous looking dagger. She grabbed the thing she had given birth and gripped its shoulders painfully.

"Now listen to me Crona. You are going to kill the puppy. You are going to stab it and kill it and then write about it for experience. If you don't do this task then I'll have to serve you a special punishment. I didn't want to but I'm going to have to. Come on Crona, just pick up the dagger and let Ragnarok help you." Mentioning the demons name made the migraine stronger. Crona wanted to cry, break down, scream, anything, They just wanted Ragnarok to go. To leave. "If you do this, it'll be better for the both of us. It'll settle your mind and Ragnarok won't pursue you endlessly." Medusa's soothing smirk and choice of words hit Crona.

His dream and goal. To be rid of his troubles. To finally find some peace. And according to their mother, the dagger contained everything the little one asked for. Was it worth it? The building pain that threatened to overwhelm them said yes.

So they stepped forward, scared, terrified even, feeling their migraine begin to overwhelm them. Minute's maybe seconds until they passed out. A creepy lopsided grin tugged at Crona's face as the dagger hovered over the weak puppy beneath Crona. The child had tilted their head. It'd obviously been too much of a burden to not give in to the urges. Especially as the dagger came down, as the animal whined for mercy. As Crona frowned. And as Crona fell to the floor, in more pain than they'd ever felt before.