So excited to post this part, hopefully it's dark enough to please you, my lil sadists.

I panted as I ran alongside the city limits. I was on the outskirts of town, and the large structures started to slowly morph into run-down apartment complexes and commercial buildings. The street lights lessened in number, as well, leaving most of my surrounding in shadows. It was several blocks back that the footsteps had faded. Yet, I knew that despite my hearing, their sight would still reach farther. After minutes of silence beside my own thudding feet and rampant breathing, I wondered if I was safe. I had to have lost them by now, but I knew that they'd find me eventually. I slowed down beside a nearby alleyway, finding it as my only haven. My palms leaned against my knees as I caught my breath and assessed my surroundings. This side of town was sparsely populated, giving me the perfect opportunity. I stood straight and ran down the alleyway, the world growing a bit dimmer as the lights grew farther away. I reached the end of its length and leaned against the cold brick.

I pulled off my suit jacket and button up, tossing them to the muddy ground beneath. I couldn't give a shit less if it caused permanent stains, it's not like I'd have another opportunity to wear it. Unless I actually got a funeral, that is. Without any hesitation, I brought my right arm to my mouth, sinking my fangs in and groaning. The sweet wash of endorphins shot through my system and it awoke my cravings. I pulled away and repeated the process, several times, the harsh stabbing only fueling my fire. I dug my teeth in further and whimpered when they sunk in deeper than expected. Pain flashed down my wrist and into my fingers and I wondered numbly if I had severed a nerve.

A humorless laugh escaped me as I switched arms. I didn't need to worry about nerve damage. To be honest, I didn't have to worry about any of the repercussions. I would've been dead in a week, anyway. My fangs pulled at the flesh, tearing at it slightly. White hot agony flashed behind my eyes and I reveled in the sensation. Soon enough, I wouldn't be able to feel anything at all. I wanted to dive as deep into this horrible obsession as possible. Just how far could I push myself to the edge? Maybe if I was lucky, I'd go too far and end my suffering here. That would save everyone the headache of it later.

The Grigori could keep their bullet: I had my exit.

The thrill of danger sparkled in my heart and I took a moment to appreciate the damage that I had caused. A little over a dozen bite wounds covered my forearms, and crimson liquid spilled freely, dripping up to my elbows and falling down to the cracked pavement and dirt below. All I could taste was iron, and I licked my lips to rid myself of the taste, but blood covered my mouth and dribbled down to my chin. A maniacal laugh erupted from my chest as I pictured just how deranged I must look. Once the Vatican received the photos of my corpse, they'd see just the type of monster that I was.

My eyes scanned the darkened alleyway and my gaze fell on a broken window. They trailed down to the concrete and I spotted some large shards of glass. Apparently, this area was abundant with crimes. It was obviously a case of breaking and entering. A demented smile crossed my bloodied lips as I reached forward and snagged the largest shard. I'd add suicide to the list of incident reports in the area.

I leaned back, my bare skin scraping against the brick. I held the glass firmly in my right hand, sizing it up. It wasn't a razor blade, and it wasn't the blessed knife. I glanced down at my injured arms, noting how my bite wounds were already starting to close. If I wanted to end it here, I'd have to make it violent, make it so sudden that my regeneration abilities couldn't possibly save me. A resolve settled in my mind, and it was like a weight had been lifted off of my shoulders. I wouldn't have to deal with this wretched life anymore. I wouldn't need to wait, anxiously, for the Grigori to find the time to end me. A cackle passed through my lips. They may want to mount my head on a wall like some sort of trophy. However, this was my life and my body. I'll defile it until there was nothing but shreds left. I realized with a bit of glee that I'd get to fulfil my wish to vandalize myself beyond belief. I'd ruin their little trophy, so badly that the report of my death would be burned into their retinas for the rest of their fucking lives.

I pushed the shard into my skin, hissing as my bite wounds burned. Cutting over fresh wounds was its own type of pain. I slide the jagged edge across my wrist, watching as blood pooled around the edges of the cut and slide down my skin. I repeated the action a few times, and with each slice, my confidence grew. I shoved the shard deep and ripped it to the side, the resulting splatter making my heart skip a beat. I readjusted my grip, poising my weapon like a dagger, and drove it into the thin skin below my palm. A strangled grunt ripped through my throat and I could feel my body break out in tremors, but I was in too deep to stop now. I yanked the shard toward me, dragging it from my wrist to my elbow. Blood spurted out and I knew I'd hit my mark. An artery was my only chance at success. However, with my abilities, it would take more than one mangled vessel to seal the deal.

I passed the object to my left hand, my fingers shaking as I gripped the shard. It was either from adrenaline, or the damage I'd caused to the extremity. I didn't waste any time, driving the edge into my wrist of my right arm in a similar fashion. My non-dominant hand was far weaker, and I knew it would take more force to copy my previous actions. Holding the glass firmly, I tore it through my flesh. The vital red liquid gushed forward, streaming from the wound and splattering against my pants and ground.

Pulling it away from my maimed forearms, I shakily placed my weapon against my shoulder. A sudden chill flashed through me and the glass wobbled against my skin. I panted and dug the edge further down, hissing as the cut grew wider with every inch of gore I exposed. I drew several more lacerations in the same fashion before the sound of rapid footsteps assaulted my eardrums. My gaze flickered upward and I realized that the world was a bit unsteady. My sight first registered Yukio, quickly followed by the rest of my peers. My twin's heels dug into the ground, halting him. Teal eyes went impossibly wide and it was as if his mind stopped processing altogether. His jaw slackened and he stumbled slightly. Shiemi stopped beside him, doing her best to prevent him from falling whilst offering me a horrified expression.

"Okumura!" Bon clamored, continuing to move forward as the other's stopped in their tracks. I realized he was the only one to see me in a similar situation. Maybe that better equipped him for the bloody sight before him. I glared at him and a growl rumbled in my chest. He understood the warning and slowed down. Yet, he was closer than I'd liked, standing only a body-length away. "Drop the glass. Let us help you." His tone was stern, as if he were lecturing a class and not talking someone out of suicide.

"I don't want your fucking help." I snarled in response, my growl vibrating so harshly I felt it in my legs. "Why are you guys fighting so hard to keep me alive?! Do you enjoy watching me suffer?"

"What part of this look enjoyable?" Bon snapped in annoyance, gesturing to me and the classmates behind him. There were the quiet sounds of anguish coming from our peers. Some were weeping, some hyperventilating.

I scoffed and rolled my eyes. "How should I know? You're the sadists."

"And you are undeniably a masochist."

His deadpanned delivery caused me to snicker; my gaze falling down as I toyed with the glass shard. "Good one, you should write that down."

"I'm not fucking around, Rin! Drop the glass and let us help you." A trace of desperation laced his tone. The sound sprouted irritation within me and I could taste the bitter emotion in the back of my throat. I moved to press the shard against the flesh of my bicep, giving my classmate a long stare as I pulled it across my skin. The flesh burned with the increased depth, intoxicatingly painful. It was absolutely an act of defiance. I have wasted so much time trying to fit into their perfect worlds, and I was resentful of it. Upon my maniacal action, I saw him falter. He averted his gaze, swallowing hard. He closed his eyes and his next words began to waver. "I know you're not thinking straight right now, but that's why were here. Don't make decisions that you'll regret."

I snorted airily, the rush of my vice leaving me almost breathless. "What's there to regret?"

The atmosphere became still as the distressed whimpers of my peers halted. A tension started to blossom as an understanding enveloped the group. Eventually, there was movement, and my eyes flickered up to Yukio. He must've regained some of his senses because he took a few steady steps forward. "Rin," he spoke at a normal level, but the emphasis on my name sounded hesitant. "Is this a suicide attempt?" I quickly shook my head and there was an audible sigh of relief from everyone.

"Drop that last word."

Many breaths passed as the phrase was digested, and I could almost hear the cogs turning before it clicked in their heads. The oxygen became thick with tension and Shura started pulling out her phone.

"Don't bother," I chided scornfully, placing the glass against my throat and glaring at her. "I'll be dead before the paramedics arrive; don't waste your energy."

"Why?" My brother ground out, and even in the shadows I could see how his face contorted. "Why are you doing this?" The anguished whisper aggravated me as if putting water on a grease fire. My abhorrence began to fester under my skin like an allergy, making me itchy.

I ripped the shard to the side, grunting as the warmth of blood trickled down to my torso. Unfortunately for me, I wasn't used to the angle and I'd failed to hit a carotid artery. I heard screams of panic, but I didn't let it distract me. "Because I'm dead either way." I cocked my head to the side, giving my brother a thoughtful look. The world swaying with the motion. "You just don't get it, do you? I can wait a week and get a bullet through the head, or I can die on my own terms, right now. I know which one I prefer."

Yukio snarled at my statement, the sound animalistic and threatening. He balled his fists and slammed his knuckles into the nearby building before swiveling on his heels, glaring at my mentor. "You! This is all your doing." He stomped up to her, and I was aghast when she cowered beneath his presence. "I thought you fixed this!"

She held her arms up in defense, her plea of innocence sounding so out of character that my jaw almost fell off. "I tried! He told me to wait until after the dance!"

He grabbed her by the shoulders and yanked her forward, his words dripping with venom. "You told me you'd handle it a week ago. Now, look what you've done." He hissed through his teeth before shifting and shoving her toward me. "Fucking fix it. Now."

She took a few steps forward and crouched down next to Bon. I shied away from her, gripping my weapon harder and feeling its edges pierce my palm. Her face was overcome with remorse, and she gazed at me with despair in her eyes. I tried to level with her through the blood loss. My body felt heavy as lead and the world behind her swam as I focused, but I tried to put on a front. I didn't want them to realize just how weak I felt. They might try to restrain me if they did. She searched my features before sighing and hanging her head low, her words coming out quiet. "You don't have a death sentence, Rin."

I stared at her blankly, "the hell are you saying? What, the Vatican just decided I wasn't a threat anymore?"

She opened her eyes, and met my own with a solemn expression. "Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying." I remained silent, blinking away my surprise. She took the opportunity to elaborate. "The recordings of our sessions; they all get sent to them. I also have to give them in-depth reports on any progress or regressions. There were several meetings, months ago, and after a lot of deliberation, your time limit was extended." She sighed, bringing her hands up and rubbing her face. "The control you gained over your abilities was the main focus, but your mental health was taken into consideration, as well. Your execution was postponed for another six months. But..." she trailed off, chewing on her lip. "After our last mission, I gave a report: You've gained so much control, and your astounding drive to communicate and lead the team was reported as well. The Vatican made a final decision shortly afterward. As long as you become an Exorcist, and you don't kill anyone in the process — you're free."

Questions sprouted in my mind, but my mouth couldn't form the words. My jaw fell open once again and a few strained squeaks filled the air. My eyes dropped down to my bleeding wrists, processing her proclamation. Several heavy seconds passed by before I glanced upward. "I don't believe you."

She blanched, taken by surprise. "W-What?"

"I don't believe you. You're lying," I stated flatly. "Do you really expect me to believe that? This is just a ploy to get me to give in."

"No, Rin. I'm not ly-"

I cut her off, shooting daggers at her. "If it were true, you wouldn't have kept it from me. That's not the kind of news you just gloss over. Isn't it a little too convenient that I'm just now hearing of this?"

There were several footsteps, and I watched as Yukio stood before me. And while his movements were confident, his eyes seemed unsure. He reached into his pocket and withdrew something, holding it out to me. My eyes took a moment to focus on it, but widened when I realized it was the knife. I snapped my gaze upward, staring at him incredulously. Was he just offering me a way out? Did that mean I was right, this was just a tactic? They had been lying, and now that they'd been caught, he was giving up?

"Take it." He nodded down to his outstretched hand. I continued to stare at him as I used my free hand to slowly reach out and grab it. My fingers shook as I latched onto the wooden handle, my chilled skin brushing against the heated skin of his own. I couldn't help but ponder if my cold temperature was due to my injuries or from being shirtless. However, once solidly in my hand, I turned my wide eyes to the knife, unsure what was taking place. "Your bitch of a mentor kept everything a secret because she thought fear would motivate you. It's that simple." His words were as chilled as I felt and I blinked a few times, shifting my gaze to Shura. Regret flashed in her eyes and she didn't deny the statement. "Now," he stated firmly. "You have all the information you should've had months ago. However, you have a choice to make."

My eyes wandered up to my twin's reserved expression. His jaw was set, and even in the dim light, I could see him shaking. "You have the opportunity to live, to move past all of this. But you also have the chance to end it all, right now. That shard of glass won't kill you, not without some serious effort - and you know that. You can use that knife to slit your wrists, your neck, whatever the fuck you want. I won't stop you." His voice broke, and while I could tell he was being honest, it still hurt him to make the agreement. "You don't trust us, that's blatantly obvious. But I'm asking you - begging you to trust us one more time." He closed his eyes briefly before reopening them, a determination that wasn't there before shining through. "Please. Come home tonight. We will lay out all of the paperwork for you. We can prove it to you, that we are not lying. There is not a countdown above your head, Rin. You can make your own decisions. You can make friends and have relationships. You can heal from this." He drew in a shaky breath before blowing it through his lips, his whole body wracked in tremors. "It just depends on if you even want to try."

After his ultimatum, my eyes shifted down to my hands. I dropped the shard of glass and held the knife in my palms. He was giving me a choice, and he wasn't going to stop me if I chose death. I'd been beaten down for so long, traumatized repeatedly, and he understood that I wanted to escape from it. He knew my wounds ran deeper than just physically, they might even be engrained into my personality. There was a possibility that I would never heal, and forcing me to live was no longer an option for him. Yet, he was desperate for me to reconsider. I had a chance at happiness, and he was beseeching me to live.

My eyes flickered up to the others. First my gaze fell on Bon, who seemed to be on the brink of hysterics. "Okumura," his voice cracked and he immediately swallowed, unable to continue. I moved my eyes passed him, where the rest of my classmates were. Shiemi was on her knees, holding her head in her hands as she sobbed. Shima stood above her, trying his best to comfort her, but failing miserably. His eyes darted between me and the crying blonde, a grief I'd never seen on him shadowing his face. Koneko was next to the couple, his body so stiff that I wondered if he'd pass out. My gaze shifted a few feet to the right, where a purple-haired girl stood, her hands balled into fists at her side. Tears fell silently from her petrified eyes. Those eyes tried to convey a thousand words before she drew in a shallow breath.

"Please, Rin." she whispered.

My heart lurched and I averted my gaze, meeting fuchsia eyes. Shura's words came out broken, "I'm so sorry."

I shook my head, and moved to stare at the bricks. My throat felt tight, and my body felt weak. I tried to swallow my emotions, but they continued to pull at my ribs. It was as if the muscle at the center of my chest was moments away from imploding. Their concerned expressions were expected, but I wasn't prepared to see them. I knew my death would hit them emotionally, regardless of how well they knew me. I had become a constant presence. What I couldn't understand how much they seemed to care. I was just a demon, they shouldn't cherish my life as much as a humans.

"Rin," my twin whispered. And even though I knew I wasn't ready to look at him, I still lifted my eyes to his. Unadulterated misery flooded his irises, brimming at his waterlines. Tears spilled down his cheeks and he was gripping at his chest. His knuckles dug so deeply into the fabric I could see his tendons straining against his skin. "Come home. Please, please, come home." The devastation in his plea wracked my body and I desperately wanted to quell his overflowing emotions. Abruptly, my chest lurched painfully and my eyes prickled with tears I knew were futile to be fought.

Fuck.

My head dropped and I sharply inhaled, barely containing my emotions. I momentarily tightened my grip on the knife before raising it up toward my brother. A few moments passed before his hands were on mine. One took the knife from my grasp, and the other pulled me to my feet. I stumbled, my knees almost giving out and my vision swimming. But he caught me, yanking me into an embrace and shakily sighing in relief. He tilted his head down and buried his face into my neck, and I could feel his tears wet my skin.

"Let's go home," I whispered.