I sat there for a long, long time. Most of the time I cried, wallowing in the pity I had for the young girl. She was so innocent, so pure, and I had taken all of that away from her. All of it... Her body was probably still in that alleyway, alone and lost in the cold and darkness of eternal sleep. The only thing running through my mind was her final words; 'You're a demon! My momma said demons are bad, bad people! Get away, get away, GET AWAY!' I cried harder. Kuro had tried to comfort me, ask me what had happened, but I couldn't bring myself to say the words. I couldn't bring myself to say that I had killed her.

Eventually, when the first light of dawn rose, I stood. My tears were no longer flowing. Yukio was still not back yet and Kuro had left a while before, and a part of me was glad. I didn't want either of them to see me like that. I stood slowly and pulled off my blood-soaked clothes. I threw them into the corner, and took a shower. I could feel all of the blood running down my face and down the drain, and it brought up new memories. I sat in the tub, my head in my hands as new sobs erupted from my throat. My father. He would have been so disappointed in me, disgusted in what I had become... I looked up, and through my tears, saw Yukio's razor blades. I picked one up, and began playing with it in my hand. If I sliced it against my wrist, it could all be over. I wouldn't have to go through this anymore... Shaking my head, I set it back on the side of the tub. I was being an idiot. I wouldn't actually do it... Would I..? I had ended that habit when I was fourteen and Father Fujimoto had seen my scars. I still remembered that night as if it were yesterday;

I walked out of the shower with a fake smile plastered to my face, the fresh cuts on my wrists hidden by my long grey sleeves. They were the newer ones out of many scars littering my wrists and even up my arms. No one at the monastery knew about my habit, and I didn't intend on them ever finding out. I walked slowly to my room, where I was planning to go to sleep. I didn't care that it was only eight at night; I was tired, and didn't feel like being around anyone. While I was lost in my thoughts, Father Fujimoto grabbed my wrist that had the fresh cuts on them. I felt one of them rip open, and my eyes widened. Shit.

"Ah, you're going to bed already? Do I have to lose you to your teenage hibernation so soon?" Then, in a more serious tone, "You haven't done your homework. Don't think I don't realize that your grades are shot." I sighed, and gave him a false smile.

"Heh, well, you know me... I can just do it later-"

"There's no way in hell I'm going to believe you about that again. You better get in there before- eh?" He let go of my wrist and stared at his hand. "Did you get cut or something? You're bleeding." He wiped his hand, which had fresh blood on it, on his pants.

"N-no... I... I..." My face had formed an expression of panic, and my dad finally understood. His eyes widened.

"Show me your wrists." His lips had formed a tight line, and worry and sadness was evident on his face.

"No... I-I'm fine. It's just... just a small cut from..." My voice trailed off and my eyes filled with tears. My dad grabbed my hands, and flipped them over. I didn't stop him, and averted my gaze. He pushed up my sleeves, and I heard his small intake of breath.

"Rin..." He said quietly. "Rin... Why did you..." My tears overflowed, and started to crawl down my cheeks. My father pulled me into a tight embrace, and I could feel that his hands were shaking. "I'm sorry... I didn't know..."

"Please... Don't tell Yukio..." I wispered. "He wouldn't understand..."

"I won't. I promise, Rin... I'm so sorry..."

Slowly, I picked the blade back up. I stared at it for a moment, and brought it up to my arm. I dragged it across, blood welling from the cut. I sliced it into my arm again and again, until my previously unscarred wrists were willing with blood. The droplets rolled down my arm and landed in the bottom of the tub, dying the water red. The cuts did not heal. I assume that it was because they were self-inflicted, but to this day I am still not sure.

I stood, and turned the water off. I dried my hair, wrapped the towel around my waist, and walked into my dorm room. I slipped on some clean clothes, and carried my destroyed suit to the roof. I set it on the ground, and used my flames to burn it to ash. It would be bad if I were found with them. But maybe... I deserved to be caught. I could turn myself into the Vatican, and... I shook my head. No. I couldn't. Then again... I stared at my wrists. I knew I deserved worse than a few cuts. A stray tear rolled down my cheeks, and I heard the door to the roof behind me open.

"Rin? What are you doing?" Yukio asked, sounding confused. "What are you burning?"

"Just... Just some old clothes. Nothing important..." I knew that my voice was shaking like hell, and was dry and scratchy. It was quite evident that I had been crying all night. I didn't turn to look at him when I spoke. "I'm not in the mood to talk, so you can just leave now."

"Rin..." He said, walking up to me. I heard his footsteps approaching, and the sweet smell of his blood made me sick. He set his hand on my shoulder, and I shoved it off.

"Don't touch me." Then, much more quietly, "I don't want to hurt you too."

"Rin, why do you push away everyone that tries to help you?!" Yukio cried, his anger showing through in his voice. "Just tell me what's fucking wrong! You've been acting strange ever since you came back from the hospital, and I just want to help!"

"You can't fix the shit that's wrong with me. So just leave me alone! I can handle myse..." I trailed off. The night previous, I had been left alone, and someone had ended up dying. Tears started streaking my cheeks, and my shoulders started shaking. Yukio obviously had no idea what to do, and he was silent. Finally, he spoke.

"Rin... I... I just... I'm sorry, but-"

"Just leave me the fuck alone before I hurt anyone else." My brother sighed, and I heard him begin to walk away slowly. He paused in the doorway.

"Rin... If you-"

"Just leave me the fuck alone!" I cried, finally turning to face him. He processed everything with a sad and hurt expression; my tear-streaked face and red-rimmed eyes from crying finally made him turn and walk away. It pained me to push him away like that, but I didn't want to hurt anyone else. Especially not him, my only brother. I watched him walk away, his defeated posture making me want to comfort him. I didn't, however, and stayed on the roof for a long time, not going down once for food. I didn't sleep a wink that night, fearing my haunted sleep.