Nagi told me he wouldn't let the men with guns hurt me, but there are so many men with guns. It couldn't be helped that Crawford and Schuldig thought that it would be good training for me to be locked in a room with Farfello. I quickly learned that if my hands got too close to his skin that I would start healing him involuntarily. I would absorb his pain and make it my own, only weaker.

It hurt.

He cut him self so deeply that at times I feared that when my hands got to close, that my arms would fall off. I healed quickly enough, though. I only acquire the injury for about a day before it heals off. It wasn't enough to kill me...yet.

I would stumble back into Nagi's room each night after the training. He would show a small shy smile to me before he picked me up and carried me to his bed. He must have had to buy new sheets each time. I felt bad for it, ruining his things constantly. He didn't seem to mind though.

This night it was especially bad. Farfello had made artistic wounds into his skin that would soon become mine. Hardly an inch of his skin had remained uncut when he touched my shoulder. The wounds disappeared from him and I felt them shoot through my skin. Everywhere...everywhere I was bleeding. It hurt and I let out raspy gasps, trying to breathe but failing horribly.

"It hurts...so bad..." I murmured after getting a few minutes to try and deal with the pain.

"It hurts God, too," Farfello said with a smirk of satisfaction on his face as he moved away from me.

I couldn't hold on any longer. It was only moments before I passed out from blood loss. Why was Nagi letting them do this to me...? Was he...mad?

No, it wasn't in Nagi's personality to act in such a manner, even if aggravated. If he were angry he would swallow it up and act as though nothing was wrong while staring forward blankly. I often thought that at times he looked like a porcelain doll, his expression never changing.

Mayfly was such a fitting name for him as well. He didn't seem to have lived very long as a child... So, in a way, he was the opposite of a mayfly. Instead of living a short adulthood, he had lived a short childhood. Maybe his adulthood would be short lived as well. With the people he was with, I wouldn't be surprised if one of them killed him.

When I woke up I was lying in Nagi's bed, as I had expected. He was lying next to me, staring at me with concern in his eyes. I wondered briefly if he didn't know what they had been doing to me. It didn't matter either way, I suppose, they would keep doing it anyway.

"Nagi..." I whispered to him.

"Hmm?"

"I'm making you bloody..."

He blinked momentarily and looked down to see his white sheets and his own clothes were covered in my blood. He shrugged and than looked back at me with his beautiful microscopic smile.

"So?" he asked.

"Doesn't it bother..."

"It's your blood, Omi. I don't mind."

I just stared at him, not knowing how to respond. I shook my head and stared down wards. I was embarrassed. He was always so nice to me, even when no one else would think he was. No one would ever know what a gentleperson Schwarz's child prodigy was, no one but me. That thought satisfied me and I couldn't help smile, despite the pain I was feeling.

Schwarz's prodigy... Schwarz... So I was stuck in black now. The evil corrupt hearts surrounded me... I was one of them, wasn't I? I held their hands; I kissed their lips, I... I was Schwarz...

Weiss didn't care, did they? They would have found me by now, surly. No...I knew that they cared. So why was I acting in such a manner? Why did I constantly doubt everyone...? Why did I feel that the men with guns were going to hurt me again?

Weiss...

"If anyone can hear me," I whispered quietly enough so Nagi wouldn't be able to hear me, "let me out of the black... I want to be white again..."