When John returned home, Dave was on the couch with Mayor, gently rubbing the dog's head. The raven had put away all the paraphernalia before he walked back to the living room. He took a seat on the floor and gave the blond a big smile. "Hey, love," John greeted.

Dave wouldn't even look at him. His eyes remained on Mayor as he thumbed away at the top of the dog's head. The blond couldn't believe that his dog was hurt and that John was acting like nothing was wrong. He felt a pot of acid burning in the back of his throat, ready to come out. He swallowed it down and asked, not looking at John, "Why did you hurt Mayor?"

"Why did you go in that room?" John asked bitterly.

Dave's red orbs looked at John, filling with anger. "You hurt my dog! The last immediate family member I have! What would you have done if I had hurt one of your pets, if you had one?!" he shouted suddenly.

John's ocean blue eyes grew big then immediately filled with anger. "Davey, don't you dare yell at me! I know what's best for you, and for me! Your dog tested my patience last night when he kept barking at me! If you keep it up, you may end up the same!" he threatened, slamming his hand down on the coffee table.

"Go ahead," Dave replied calmly. "I wouldn't have to live through this hell!"

John yanked at the blond's arm, pulling him to the ground. He immediately crawled on top, pinned his arms and hips down, and glared at him. "Davey, you are really testing me! I will show you how bad you're being to me, and you will learn! You will learn that I'm saving you from being hurt from everyone else!"

He moved his hand to his pocket, extracting a pocket knife. He flipped it out right as Dave bucked up to attempt at removing John. The raven laughed then he slammed down the knife into Dave's upper, left side. The scream that escaped Dave's mouth would haunt his very own ears until the day he died.

The blond's eyes burned as tears flowed down his cheeks and into his hair, trying to get John off. However, his mind was now on the pain of it all. He couldn't focus on anything but the pain as the blood began to pool under him. He didn't even hear Mayor whining on the couch. The dog couldn't even get up for he had no strength to save his master.

John carefully crawled off Dave's lap, pressed a gentle kiss to the blond's mouth, and then pulled the knife out. "Now, that's a good boy, isn't it? Let me get bandages and gauze, and then you will be on bed rest."

The thoughts that raced through Dave's mind were jumbling together to the point that he began to see black spots. When Dave reached down to touch his injured side, he felt the warm liquid oozing out, which only made him feel even more sick to his stomach. He lifted his hand up nervously to his eyes. His index and middle finger, and the top of his palm were covered in fresh blood. Suddenly, his eyes rolled back and everything went black.

"Ah, hell," John said, rubbing at the back of his head. "Why do they always faint?"

"Happy Birthday to you. Happy Birthday to you. Happy Birthday, dear Davey. Happy Birthday to you," Dave heard in his ears. It sounded so demonic. Whoever it belonged to-

Dave opened his eyes to see that he was alone in the same musty room, the curtains were opened enough to let sunlight inside; It allowed a sliver to kiss the comforter. The boy went to sit up but quickly lay back as pain shot through his torso. "Fuck, fuck," Dave cursed out in pure pain. He could hear Bro's voice in his head, talking to him, "Quit being a damn wimp! Every time we fight, you always end up getting hurt the most because you're too God damn focused on hurting me. You're trying to get rid of my katana, dumbfuck! Not me! Remember? Focus on my katana!"

The pain of losing Bro ran through his mind like a deep wound, and that he would never get to do anything again with him. He put his hands over his eyes, crying silently into them. "Why? Why did you have to die?" Dave sobbed. He cried for what seemed like hours, but finally he calmed himself down.

If I die, he thought, I'm going to look pathetic. I have to live. If I live I can tell my story. John will get help.

He wiped at his eyes and whispered to himself, "I have to quit crying, and fight fire with fire. Even if I get burned."