You're now up to your waist in this pit in the ground,

The dirt has stained your skin and stung your eyes.

You look up, rethink your choice, but no, you're halfway there,

And you're three feet down.

"Rin! What on earth happened!?"

The rain outside was pouring. My hair was soaking wet. The water cooled my burning cheeks, and it soothed the stinging on my jaw, where a large bruise was forming. I staggered, and threw my hand out to catch myself, but there was nothing there. I fell to my hands and knees, scraping my palms against the wooden floors and earning myself a splinter.

"Nii-san!"

Footsteps pounded on the floor, echoing in my ears. A pair of familiar hands grabbed my arms and pulled me to my feet, and someone shut the door behind me, muffling the sound of the rain.

"Nii-san, what happened to you?!" I lifted my eyes. My blurry gaze barely made out the face of my brother. He touched my jaw gingerly. "You got in another fight..." He noticed, anger tinging his voice.

"Rin, are you alright?" Father Fujimoto placed a hand on my shoulder and looked me square in the eyes.

I blinked hard and lifted my hand. My arms felt like lead. I pushed Father Fujimoto away and smacked Yukio's hands aside.

"'M fine, lemme go to..." I trailed off, swaying, before my knees buckled. My head spun wildly, and I groaned.

Father Fujimoto caught me before I could hit the ground again. "Rin!"

"Nii-san, what's wrong?!" Yukio's voice, sounding scared for once in his life, made me wince. I didn't want him to sound like that... I didn't wanna hurt him, or make him worry, I just wanted to forget.

I glanced at Father Fujimoto dazedly, my mouth slack, my legs weak. He frowned.

"... I think he hit his head, Yukio. I'll get him to his room, and I'll check his head for injuries. You go to bed, Yukio, it's late." He said curtly, slinging my arm over his shoulders and leading me away.

My eyes flickered to him again, and I saw the knowing, suspicious look he was directing at me. Only for a moment, before he looked forwards again.

Oh.

.oOo.

My eyes shot open. I blinked the sleep out of my eyes. I sat up slowly, raising my hand to my head, which was throbbing. I licked my dry lips and stared at the opposite wall at the end of my bunk. It was dark out. I didn't know what time it was. Yukio was breathing softly in the bunk on the other side of the room.

My mind wandered back to the dream... or, more like, the memory. The memory that every time I tried to recall it, it was faded and blurry in more places than one. I remembered it now. That look on Father Fujimoto's face when he took me back to my room, before he put me down in my bed and left without checking my skull for injuries.

"He knew..." I whispered quietly. "Why didn't he do anything...?" I wondered aloud. If he knew I was drunk...

I shook my head. What was the point in worrying? Father Fujimoto was dead. Dead... He was dead dammit!

'And whose fault is that...?'

I clenched my teeth to the point that my jaw hurt, and I curled my fist into the sheets. "It was your goddamn fault, fucking monster..." I muttered to myself. My lip twitched, just itching to draw back into a sneer.

My head throbbed like a bass drum, and my stomach churned. Not to mention the tingling pains that I was feeling all down my arms...

I looked at the alarm clock on my desk. I licked my lips again, trying to wet them. It was four in the morning. Sure, I was sober, and not high at all, but my hangover was worse than it had ever been before.

I knew I wasn't going to get back to sleep, so I kicked the tangled sheets off my legs and got out of bed, careful not to wake Yukio.

I looked over at his bunk. The anger I'd felt towards him while I was drunk was gone. I didn't know what to feel anymore. He didn't need my protection... He never really did. I wasn't good for anything anymore, so why was I even around? Why didn't I just fucking off myself?

I exhaled slowly and rubbed my head in an attempt to ease my headache. When I'd gotten back, I'd gone immediately to take a shower, to get rid of the scent of liquor and cigarettes. I knew that Yukio was going to lecture me, so I had to look as sober as possible. He gave me a thirty minute lecture... Or, it was thirty minutes because I passed out at around that length. He was furious at me for running off and not coming back until the next day.

I swallowed, my throat dry. I felt sick. I turned around and walked slowly towards the door of the room, trying not to wake Yukio or Kuro, who had taken to sleeping at the foot of Yukio's bed instead of on mine.

I nodded to myself as I opened the door and left the room. It was good, that he was doing that. It was good that he was distancing himself from me. That way, he would be used to being with someone else if I ever left...

I closed the door behind me and leaned against it. If I ever left... huh? My hands tightened, my fingers curling into my shirt. My chest felt heavy, like there were lead weight in them. If I left, what would happen? Would Yukio be sad? Or relieved? What about the others, in Cram School? How would they feel?

I huffed and smiled bitterly. It didn't matter what they would feel... they'd ultimately be safer... they'd be able to walk with ease, instead of tiptoeing around me. They'd be safer without me around to fuck up their lives.

I sighed and kept moving, down the hallway towards the bathroom. I locked the door behind me, and grabbed the hem of my shirt. My fingers were weak, as if they were cold and not able to work with their full strength. I pulled the shirt over my head and dropped it on the floor. I turned my head towards the mirror.

My body had become thinner, but due to the fact that I was still working as an Exorcist-in-Training, it was hard to tell. I still had muscle to put weight on my body, but even that had decreased a bit. My hair was halfway down my neck, since I hadn't bothered to get it cut. Thin, white lines were barely visible on my forearms, and on the sides of my chest. Fresher, more apparent cuts were etched in between the scars.

I avoided my eyes as I approached the sink. I opened the medical cabinet, where I'd been keeping my razors tucked into a small bag. Yukio never bothered to look, since he almost never used this bathroom.

I unzipped the bag and took out one of the razors. I barely noticed the dull shine on the metal as I looked towards the door one more time, just to check that I'd locked it.

My hand shook a little as I pressed the blade against the skin under my rib cage.

For letting myself get to this point...

It's funny how when you split open your skin, it feels like someone is pinching it.

For not helping my friend when I knew he was sick...

The skin looks just scratched for a moment...

For hurting my friends and making them afraid...

Drops of roses.

For making everyone's life harder...

Telling yourself "just one"...

For killing you, dad...

Then doing it "just once more"...

For being such a difficult person, all those years...

Last one...

For compelling you to keep me alive... when I should have died...

I swear, it's the last one...

For being born...

I stood there, staring at the ceiling, dropping the razor into the sink, where it clattered against the porcelain, but refused to go down the drain, out of my reach. I could feel the sting of each of the new cuts, seven in total. Did it matter anymore? How many there were? Did it matter that they were there? Would it matter if they weren't? Would it matter if I were gone?

Would it matter?

I breathed in deeply, taking in the questions, then let it out with the answer.

"No."

My hands shook as I picked up the razor, ran it under the water, dried it, then replaced it back in the small bag in the medicine cabinet. I knew exactly why, but I pretended to believe that I was just hungry.

I pulled my shirt back on, not bothering to bandage the cuts. Blood seeped through the dark gray fabric. I watched it bloom, like a flower in time lapse, before it stopped. I sighed and raised my eyes to the mirror again. I tried to meet my own eyes.

But I stopped.

The one thing I was terrified of, was my eyes.

Terrified that I really didn't care. Terrified of what I'd see in my reflection.

I walked to the door and unlocked it. I opened the door, turned the light off behind me, and started down the hall, towards the kitchen. I could at least make breakfast for Yukio. He was heading out on a mission this morning. He'd probably be up at around five, to get ready, then be out the door at five forty-five.

I closed the door to the abandoned boy's dorm cafeteria behind me, and leaned against it, feeling weak again. The weight was gone, but somehow, that didn't make me feel much better.

I forced myself to move forward, and I entered the kitchen. Ukobach wasn't here. I suspected he was with Mephisto at the moment. He had been there a lot lately, since I began to take over with the cooking.

It was mechanical now, cooking. I no longer found joy in it. I didn't lose any of my skill, but it wasn't something that I was particularly proud of anymore. Cooking is just following a recipe, anyways.

I put the rice in the rice cooker and began to make miso soup. Would I end up eating any? Probably not. I felt to sick too my stomach to do so. And my damn hands wouldn't stop shaking.

After I finished making the miso soup, I sat down, my hands clasped between my knees in an attempt to keep them from trembling. It wasn't working. I shook my head. I had to hold out. As soon as Yukio left, then I'd go and take care of it.

The rice cooker beeped softly a while later, and I got up from my seat. I took out a tray and some dishes, and set them out, ready to prepare breakfast. I looked at the kitchen clock. Four thirty-seven. Yukio would be up soon.

I put some vegetables into two of the dishes, then waited. I'd put the rest of the meal out when he was downstairs and ready.

Ten minutes later, Kuro somehow managed to open the door, and he padded quietly over to me. I had already set out some heated leftovers for him, and without a word, he ate, then left. I pretended not to notice the sad look he gave me before he left the room.

I closed my eyes. 'The sooner you detach yourself from me, the better.' I thought to myself, as I began to hear the sounds of Yukio getting up and dressed. "He's early." I muttered to myself.

When I heard his footsteps on the stairs several minutes later, I got up, poured the soup into one of the bowls, and spooned some rice into the other. I set it out onto the tray and came out of the attached kitchen just as Yukio entered the room.

He stopped, then blinked. "You're up." He said, sounding slightly surprised... maybe even a little wary.

I shrugged and set the tray down on the table. "I woke up at f-.. early, and I realized that you wouldn't eat anything for breakfast unless it was made... so here. Eat." I responded, before I straightened up and headed towards the door, where Yukio was still standing.

He frowned. "You're not going to eat?" He asked.

I glanced at him. "No. I'm not hungry." I forced myself to yawn and shrugged again. "Besides, I'm tired. I should get some more sleep before... before school..." I said. As if I'd go to school. I'd been skipping school, on and off, for the past few months. Cram school I'd missed a little less of, but only because Yukio would be more likely to notice my absence.

"Is that blood on your shirt?" Yukio's voice broke into my thoughts.

I raised my eyebrow. "Maybe. I dunno. Maybe I scratched my side and I didn't notice." I brushed past him. "Anyways. Even if I did, it's healed now." I lied as I made my way towards the stairs.

I was stopped by a hand grabbing my wrist. "Nii-san... what is wrong with you?" Yukio asked suddenly.

I turned my head and stared at him for a moment. I was painfully aware of my shaking hands, and I knew that he would notice something like that. All I could hope was that he wouldn't put two and two together...

I took a deep breath. 'Calm down... what do you care that he notices? Tell the truth.'

I sighed and turned to face him. "I... to tell you the truth..." I started. I drew my hand away from Yukio's grasp. Tell the truth... do it! "I... Yesterday..." I trailed off. Yesterday I was on Adderall to cope with the tiredness from the Benadryl, and so that I could feel happy. "Yesterday... the kid that was attacked... he's my friend... and..." Why aren't you telling him what's wrong with you?! Well, you can't go back now, make something up! "He... he told me that he was going to..." No! Go back! Tell him what's wrong! Tell the damn truth! "That he was going to kill himself..." I spit out.

.....What the hell, mouth? That's not what I wanted you to say. Oh well.

Yukio blinked. "He..." He started, but he couldn't seem to find any words to say. "Are you..." He mumbled.

Go on... go on! "I... I'm a little scared... I dunno if he's alive or not..." I forced a laugh without meaning to. Dammit. Here I was, telling what... telling what might be the truth, and I was turning it into a 'no-big-deal' scenario... "So... I'm a little out of it right now, sorry..." I apologized.

After a moment of silence, in which Yukio stared at me like I had grown a second head, I sighed and turned around. "I'll be fine. Anyways, you gotta eat now, or you'll be late. And I'm tired, I need sleep." I turned and walked out of the room, closing the door firmly behind me before Yukio could even respond.

I had just placed my foot on the first step, when-

"He's alive, Nii-san!"

I froze. "What?" I called back through the closed door.

"... He's alive. I got a call last night. I'd given the hospital my work number, in case it was demon related, but they called to inform me that he was fine, and that he showed no signs of being attacked by someone who was possessed... but I didn't think he was someone important to you." Yukio finished.

Silence.

Then, he cleared his throat. "I'll be late. Go back to sleep. I'll see you tonight." A few moments later, I heard the cafeteria door close as he left. I guess he didn't have time to eat.

I swallowed, then took a few steps up the stairwell... before promptly collapsing to my knees.

I covered my mouth with my hand. Tears welled up in my eyes, and there was something in my chest... it wasn't the normal pressure, but more like...

Relief?

Relief. That was it. I was relieved. Relieved that Rouga was alive...

But... it shouldn't have happened in the first place.

My eyes widened as my own thoughts broke in.

What?

I mean... if you had just done something when you noticed he was getting worse...

But I-

He never would have felt like that. He never would have left to kill himself. He wouldn't have-

Stop...

He wouldn't have gotten hurt, you monster.

"SHUT UP!"

I slammed my fist down into the stairwell. The wood cracked, sending a splinter into my hand. I winced, and lifted my hand to look at the small injury. It was the same hand from my memory, wasn't it?

The tears in my eyes spilled over my cheeks. One of the drops hit my shaking hand.

I covered my mouth again, muffling my sobs, and lay down on the stairs. I knew I looked like a child. Like a mess. Like I was a mere four steps away from falling apart into a pile of guilt and and ripped seams, instead of four steps away from the top of the stairs.

But then again, why would I give a damn about what I looked like?! Why would I give a damn about what was happening to me?! The only thing I should have been giving a damn about was my friend! The people I cared about! The people in my life who had a life ahead of them!

I shouldn't give a damn about myself.

I wouldn't.

I stared at my trembling hands, and my headache was becoming increasingly worse.

"I need a drink..."

That was, believe it or not, the first time I said that with horror tinging my tone.

So... sorry I've been gone so long.

Anyways, here's the next chapter. Yay! Ryo- Oops, sorry... Rouga's alive! My baby... I think I've started to care about him a little too much. I've been working on a side story about him, mostly for my own creative output, but if you guys want to read something like that, either tell me in the comments, or go to my profile- there's a poll about it that you can answer.

Okay, so... yeah. If you guys don't know about AWS (Alcohol Withdrawal Syndrome) what Rin is showing with his tremors and his sort of... "Hangover-on-steroids" is that. In the story, it's been about... six hours since his last drink, so well within the limit of time that AWS can start to occur.

Anyways. Again, sorry for the wait. Love you all. :) And sorry for putting you guys through this shit, lol.