Hello everyone, I am very sorry for not updating for such a long time. I have had problems which prevented me from thinking or doing of anything else. I really am sorry and promise to do my best to keep up. Just know that I love you guys and appreciate your support :)

Hope you enjoy this chapter.

Karma's P.O.V.

"Speak with me,"

The strawberry head was intently watching me, waiting for a reply.

I had nothing to say.

"You won't be discharged any sooner than next week, I have a lot of time to get you talking until then."

He hasn't moved his gaze in the last ten minutes. It was creepy. And scary. Being watched and given attention to was scary.

"And even after that, I doubt they will let you loose. Most likely psychiatric hospital. Best case scenerio - if they have a reason good enough - you will only have to go to a psychologist. But I doubt you would like either of that."

After all the time, I was still motionlessly sitting with my gaze fixed on my bandaged wrist. Usually, everything would feel hollow and meaningless, but with Asano-kun, who found me bleeding to death about a week ago present, I didn't seem to be able to calm down. My mind was racing, thinking - about what, I didn't even know, maybe just trying to calm down, anything but to face him.

There was the strong urge to rip those bandages off and reopen the cuts, to inflict more harm.

"Akabane,"

I stiffened.

"Akabane,"

My head was kept low.

"Karma,"

No answer. There was absolutely nothing I could trust myself to say without breaking down.

I hoped the other would get tired and finally leave, but the class president was extremely persistent. He sighed, rubbing his eyes and taking out something from his school bag: "I'm not leaving until you say something. Anything at all. If you need time, okay, fine, I get it. But once you are ready, I need you to cooperate, for your own sake."

It was so strange hearing him say such... not-poisonous words. I wondered where it came from and why he bothered with me.

Asano-kun put some books on the small desk next to my bed and stated: "Now then, if you excuse me, I shall take care of some things. I doubt you want to see the notes or study, considering your current state so just... rest, I guess."

And with that, the conversation (well, not really since he was the only one talking) died. Indeed, he only sat there and did his homework, read through his notes and books. In five minutes, guy was so immersed in the studies he didn't pay me any attention. It was then that I finally mustered enough courage to look up or move at all.

I leaned on the pillow popped up under my back and closed my eyes, trying to get some peace. And yet, no such thing came.

What now? the question kept bugging me. What happens now?

As the strawberry blonde said a while ago, I will most likely put into some mental hospital or something. I will be treated like a brittle, fragile porcelain doll, about to crumble. They will look at me with those pityful eyes or disdainful gazes.

I didn't want that. It felt disgusting.

For god's sake, I felt disgusting. I tried to kill myself. I wanted to end this all. To be free. And I almost, almost succeeded. Honestly, I had no idea whether I was angry or happy about that. Maybe both. Maybe neither. What I do know, however is, that if I have died that time, I wouldn't have to think about all this now.

And yet, here I was.

In a hospital.

With slitted wrists exposed to the world.

Had Koro-sensei or Nagisa-kun known about them, they would have surely made me stop long ago. Somehow. But I was weak, I was proud, I was scared. So I hid the pain behind smiles, mischeivous pranks and jokes. I hid the scars, promising myself that these would be the last and yet not even a two days later cutting again.

Truly, revolting.

I opened my eyes again, knowing that staying in the darkness of my mind would do no good. Naively, I thought that if I saw the world outside, if I tried to look at it in a different light, with more optimism and effort, the pain would go away. Somehow. Anyhow. But now, there was nothing but white walls greeting me, a white bed and white sheets, this colourless and ugly, empty space. Sans life, sans anything at all, that would breathe joy into my life.

Or so I thought. There was something completely out of place, one colour that did not belong to this tedious story of mine. Noticing the fact, I glanced at it and realized that the source of this disruptance was the strawberry blonde and strong amethyst eyes which were at the moment occuppied with the task at hand.

I didn't get it.

What was he trying to do by keeping me accompanied? Or more importantly - why would he of all people care?

It didn't make sense. Nothing ever did. But this one, this one bothered me too much.

Asano-kun has never been the caring one, at least not genuinely. He always liked to seem so perfect and kind to others but once it came to me, he let it clearly show that he was annoyed and most surely wishing for my death. And yet, he saved me. And now he was staying here, all the time, every day since I woke up, trying to speak with me, encouraging me to talk, to explain what happened. I had no idea how to react to that.

For the hundreth time - I was afraid.

Because once I opened this damned mouth, I wouldn't be able to stop.

I knew that. And I didn't want it to happen.

Still, why couldn't I get my eyes off the student? Why couldn't I control my trembling lips, tame those wild thoughts, the sudden and irrational longing of confiding to someone? There was no way I would let the mask slip, not after all those years of building it... right?

Oh, who was I kidding?

The mask has slipped long ago.

"Why," I choked out with a rasped voice, feeling the hot tears running down my face.

The other shot his head up in a matter of miliseconds, his eyes wide in shock and expectation. But shortly after, perhaps after noticing my crying, they got a glint of guilt, softening. He stayed silent and the only thing that resounded in this whole room were my increasing sobs and desperate attempts to stop.

He finally seemed to realize that I couldn't and wouln't say anything more and slowly walked towards me, shamelessly giving me a firm embrace. My tears stained his shirt but he didn't mind. I was shaking so violently and yet he managed to hold me perfectly still. And despite the fact that I would usually only hear my own hateful remarks about showing weakness, it was now his calm and accepting voice that took over.

That and the gentle pats on my back.

"It's alright, let it out," he said, along with many other comforting words.

The strange thing is - they worked. It felt so beautiful to cry my heart out, to get a warm and strong hug, to think that I wouldn't be judged. I wept more and more, not being able to control myself. It was as if the dam that repressed all my emotions over the years has cracked now. And maybe it did.

I don't know what to do, I tried to say but it got muffled, full of shaky gasps of air.

It hurts to be alive, I didn't stop talking. Not that it was comprehendable though, or at least I thought so since I constantly hiccupped and wailed, deforming the words.

And I kept on speaking, confessing how worthless and unwanted I felt, lost without friends, lost without anyone to guide me, lost in this dark, dark world. I said all the things that suffocated me until then, the fears and worries, all the things that made me become this broken of a wreck. I didn't care anymore. I needed to spit it out, get rid of it. It didn't matter that I was supposed to be strong anymore, nor the fact that the one listening was none other than my rival.

I didn't care anymore.

I just wanted to be fine again.