"I apologize for yesterday," a voice broke into my sleep.

I blinked my eyes open. "Hmmm? Kaiba?" I yawned.

"You said we'd continue lessons, right?" he asked, moving over to my desk.

I sat up groggily. "Yeah, I guess...isn't it a little early?"

"I'm booked for the rest of the day. If you'd rather I come back tomorrow, I can--"

"Hold it, jeez. Okay, right now is fine. Climb up on the bed."

He stood at the foot of my bed, eyebrow raised. "Excuse me?"

I motioned my hands, looking down and yawning. "Mmmm...yeah, get on the bed. Now."

"You know, there's better places to learn things at and--" He yelped as I pulled him on the bed.

"You woke me up at four in the morning, we're doing lessons on my bed."

He situated himself on the bed. "All right, here we--"

I jumped up. "Aw, shit." I began throwing clothes on.

"What?" he asked, eyeing me carefully.

"I have to get to work. Fuck, I'm sorry Kaiba, I have to--"

"What's your job?"

"Delivering papers. It's going to take me at least an hour--"

"I'll have a servant do it."

"Huh?" I stopped, my pants mid-way up my legs. "Why?"

"Because you need to learn English, okay?" He pulled out a cell phone. "No questions." While he made the call, I noticed my arm was still bleeding in a few places.

"Shit..."

"What now?"

"Get off the bed."

He shook his head, climbing up. "Yes?"

I began pulling my sheets, stained brownish-red, off the bed.

He grabbed my arm. "What is this?"

I pulled away from him. "None of your business, Kaiba. Leave it alone."

"You're bleeding!" He glanced at the sheets. "Seriously, what the hell happened?"

"I got cut, okay?"

"No, it's not okay. Did you get in a fight or something?"

"Or something," I said softly, carrying the sheets to the laundry pile.

He followed me. "You could at least bandage it."

"Why? It'll just get re-opened anyway."

He pushed me against the wall. "Who does it, Jou? Fuck, tell me who did this to you."

I knocked him off me. "Don't fucking touch me, Kaiba! I don't see why it matters anyway."

"I'm concerned."

I whirled around to stare at him. "What?" I asked, whispering.

"I care, okay?"

I turned back away from him. "Well, don't, okay? It's nothing you need to worry about."

"Was it you? Did you cut yourself?"

"Why would you think that?" I whispered.

"Or was it your dad?"

"No."

"No? Then who?" He must have walked up behind me, because he's behind me now, almost hugging me. "Was it you?"

I bit my lip nervously. Then nodded.

His arms wrapped around my shoulders, holding me close. "Why would you do that?"

"Because I'm sad."

"I don't understand."

"I'm sad and I want to punish myself for ever feeling that way. I want to feel something...real. Not this sadness...just...reality."