It's been about a week since Shura grilled me. The first few days after our little conversation, I barely slept. My nightmares have grown in frequency and severity. Eventually, I gave up on trying to sleep at all. I spent most of my nights sitting on the roof, my feet dangling off the side of the building as I pondered my life. Last night had been no different, and I'm sure tonight would be the same. Not going to lie, I found peace in my isolation. I didn't have to worry about what anyone else was thinking or feeling, it was just me and my thoughts.

I pushed open the entryway door to the dormitory. My eyes skated over the cafeteria as I passed by, continuing up the stairs. I'd gone back to making dinner for Yukio, and my worsened insomnia made it so I always had time to prepare our lunches. I've even started prepping breakfast for us, although I still would excuse myself from the meal. Yukio had questioned me on it, but I'd simply given him the same excuse as before; that I ate while cooking. I've also gone back to meditating and practicing with my flames. I had to make sure I wouldn't find myself in another catastrophe, and my practice sessions have been successful thus far. However, my biggest obstacle was emotional control, and my itchy arm was a heavy signifier that I was going to struggle to reign it in.

Everyone seems to have gone back to normal, at least for the most part. The dynamic has changed slightly. It seems everyone has realized that if you don't poke the beast, it won't wake up. So I've been ignored in my cram classes. It was as if I was a ghost or even a fly on the wall. This new development was a lot easier than our previous arrangements. I no longer was on the receiving end of frightened expressions. Instead, I was glossed over, like a statue in the park.

I hummed to myself as I made it up the last few steps, my eyes zeroing in on a glittery blue gift bag in front of our bedroom door. With furrowed brows, I moved forward, grabbing the handle, and walked into the room. I set the bag down on the desk and pulled out the envelope that had been placed on top. On the front, my name was written in an ornamental script. I tore the top of the envelope open and pulled out the card inside. It was a plain white card, with a simple phrase in gold embossment. Thinking of you.

I scoffed, whoever gave this to me was a liar. Flipping the card open, I read its contents, the handwriting the same as the one on the front of the envelope.

Darling student of mine,
          It has come to my attention that a part of your school uniform has been destroyed. Do take care of the replacements I have given you. However, with the amount of blood you have shed on your clothing as of late, I doubt they will stay white for long.

~ P.S. also inside this bag, I have given you a gift, three to be exact. Each one for a different reason, yet all for the same purpose. As you should know, the winter months are closing in, as is your birthday. So think of them as a Christmas present, a birthday gift, and lastly, a token of kindness from an older brother.

Don't get too carried away,

Mephisto Pheles

I dropped the card down to the desk, pinching the bag and peering inside. The top was covered in tissue and I wasn't able to make any assumptions as to what these gifts might be. Reaching inside, I pulled the first thing I could touch. It was wrapped in the same tissue that was stuffed in the bag, the edge of the paper plastered down with a sticker of the academy's logo. I had to chuckle at that, of course Mephisto had stickers. I was able to assume what was inside the package by the way it didn't hold its shape as I tore off the paper. Inside were two crisp, white button-ups. I sighed in relief, thankful that I didn't have to do laundry every other day anymore. I'd also been worried about how I'd be able to pay for them, but I guess there were perks to having the Headmaster as your legal guardian.

Smiling, I put the items on the desk, reaching back into the bag and pulling out another package. This one was similar to the first in aesthetics, however, it was heavier. In the same fashion as before, I tore off the paper, surprise coloring my face when I saw the contents. Three black long-sleeved shirts. They were nice, obviously not from the local thrift store. The seams were heavily stitched and the fabric was durable but lightweight.

I blinked a few times, picking the card up once more and reading it.

I have given you a gift, three to be exact...Each one for a different reason, yet all for the same purpose.

I sighed, unsure what to make of Mephisto's cryptic messages. I tossed the card into the nearby wastebasket. Grabbing one of the long sleeves and my flannel pajama bottoms, I decided to take a shower and test out my new attire.

I turned the tap as hot as I could comfortably manage and stripped off my uniform before stepping inside. I took a deep breath, letting the hot water wash away today's mediocre events. After I'd warmed up, I grabbed my washcloth and scrubbed myself clean, letting myself slip into auto-pilot. The fabric passed over the dirty marks on my skin, but no amount of scrubbing would wash them away. I'd recently concluded that the blessed metal of my knife hindered my regeneration abilities completely. Even after a week, the first few cuts I had made were just barely healed. They'd scabbed over and only scarred not long ago. This level of healing was something that I hadn't experienced since before I unsheathed the Kurikara. And while I wish I didn't have to deal with the itchiness, I kinda liked the reminder that they were there. Besides, they had some newer friends that took their place. Over the last few days, I'd increased the wounds on my arm. Finally reaching the point where I could no longer count them on my fingers.

I turned off the faucet, grabbing a nearby towel and throwing it over my head, drying my hair. I went through the process of drying the rest of my body. Grabbing my clothes and dressing, I found myself becoming thankful for the gifts. I only owned a couple of hoodies, and coupled with my meager amount of school shirts, laundry has been a headache. I was also thankful that it was early-December. The chilly air made it possible to pass off my long sleeves as nothing more than the weather. I pulled the black shirt over my head, giggling quietly when I realized the sleeves had holes for my thumbs. I was starting to like my gifts more by the second. I wouldn't have to worry about pulling my sleeves down while Yukio was around. I'd been anxious during my few hours of sleep, as well, just in case they rolled up during the night.

I hummed and picked up my comb, pulling it through my hair as I looked at my reflection. Black was a nice color, too. It would hide any blood spill, and I didn't have to worry about stains. The comb dropped from my grip, clattering in the sink.

The amount of blood you have shed upon your clothing as of late...

My eyes nearly bugged out of my head and I hurried out of the bathroom, snatching the card from the trash and reading it for a second time.

- take care of the replacements... I doubt they will stay white for long...

Don't get too carried away.

I slammed the paper down onto the desk. The bastard knew??! How the hell did he find out? My eyes darted out the window, scanning the scenery for anything off-kilter. His omniscience was unsettling. But I disregarded that, a more pressing issue on my mind. Did he not care about my self-harm? Why wasn't he trying to stop it? Hell, he was supporting it by giving me clothes to cover them.

I sighed, realizing that I gave Mephisto far too much credit. He saw me as a pawn in his game, as a shiny new toy. I'm sure he garnered some sort of enjoyment at seeing how the half-demon struggled his way through life in Assiah. I huffed, realizing that the Exorcists seemed to be keeping me alive for the exact same reason.

I was only a weapon, nothing else. An 'It."

My jaw set and my eyes shot over to my bed, my feet followed their path and I found myself digging underneath my mattress. I shoved the knife into my pajama pocket and made my usual trek up toward the roof. My life has been spiraling out of control lately, and these drastic changes wouldn't be stopping any time soon. I'd found a vice in self-harm, and while it wasn't a healthy habit, it's not like it mattered. I wasn't human, nor was I a demon. I didn't have to adhere to the morals of either side. This abomination of a life was never meant to exist, and I'd probably self-destruct until my inevitable downfall. This was my poison, and I was going to thoroughly enjoy it while I still had my rights.

I latched the door behind me, leaning against the wood and slumping down to the concrete below. The cool air blew through the trees, rustling my hair and sending a shiver down my spine. I didn't hesitate to pull up my sleeve, flicking the knife open and pressing the razor edge into my flesh. A hiss passed between my teeth and a wave of endorphins flooded my system shortly after. I repositioned the knife and made another laceration. I was left feeling like I was floating, but I was also being dragged down by the gravity of my actions. This was taboo, no matter how you looked at it. The lucid part of my brain always warred with my insanity, playing a game of mental tug-of-war. I wondered what would happen if I let go of my rational side, would I go too far?

I couldn't care less.

With that, I shoved all logical thoughts from my mind to the side. I allowed my insanity to take over, feeling my cravings flourish. I thirsted for blood, pain, and chaos. I wanted to watch this body decay. I wanted to maim the flesh, destroying the nerves, splitting the tendons, and removing the muscles, before reaching the bones that lay underneath. Only then, would I break the bones, severing them from this body before throwing them into a pit of blue fire and sending this body back to Gehenna.

Something shifted inside of me, and I suddenly felt nauseous. Bringing the blade back to my wrist, I let my hand express my emotions. A cycle of intrusive thoughts assaulted my frontal lobe as I passed the blade over my skin.  You're dangerous, a monster, a weapon of mass destruction. The knife dug in deeper. You have no one to turn to, you're alone, an anomaly, an outcast. I passed the knife to my dominant hand, bringing the blade to the unharmed flesh of my left wrist. You're not human, you're not even a demon, you belong nowhere. You only live for the Grigori. You don't even have a name, you're an It.

My stomach lurched and I gagged, turning to the side and dry heaving. Thankfully, nothing came up. I turned my misty eyes back to my bleeding wrists, pressing the blade into my flesh once more. I put a bit more pressure behind it, more than usual. I found satisfaction when agony flashed through my body. My head fell back, thudding against the wood, and I relished in the aftershocks. My heart was hammering in my chest, half due to my dry heaving, half due to my adrenaline. I came down from my high after a few minutes, my common sense returning to me. I squashed the regret that prickled up in my mind, preferring the numbness I gained after cutting.

I turned my gaze to my weeping arms, noting the drastic increase in wounds. Again, I felt my shame return, this time it won. I pulled my sleeves down, covering my mistakes, and pushing myself to my feet. I rubbed my face, resetting any outward emotion I may be portraying, before pulling open the door and going back down to the bedroom. Kuro greeted me when I entered, and I replied as warmly as I could muster. I excused myself to the bathroom, where I performed my usual routine of cleaning, wrapping, and lying.