Rai was determined. His mind had a singular thought. Death. He wanted it, embraced it. There was no one there to help the process, and the only thing that kept him conscious was that determination to cut out his own heart. To end his life. He probably could have more easily burned to death, but that was a longer and far more painful process. But the knife was wrenched from his hand. Human gray eyes peered up at him and he opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He wanted to be angry. He wanted to struggle. The blood loss and starvation left him sluggish and he couldn't fight the other. Now that the knife had been wrenched away, he couldn't cut out his heart. He couldn't die. "N-no," he rasped, but then he lost consciousness.<br/><br/>He didn't stir when the was deposited onto the bed in the stranger's home. He hadn't even recognized him for what he was since he was so close to death, so close to ending his miserable existence. It was miserable indeed, from all the death and hurt and betrayal. There was just nothing left for him. He knew the bar was going to be bought out. He knew that everything he owned would be raided and stolen. Rai just didn't care. When the other pulled the pendant out of his leg, the spell was undone. He had been in clothes, which were blood soaked. The human ears disappeared, the illusion gone. Fluffy white ears appeared on his head. His nails sharpened into claws. His teeth sharpened as well, and wings protruded from his back, folded awkwardly. His tail was limp on the bed, long and fluffy like his ears, striped with black.<br/><br/>Rai's eyes slowly opened, with their demonic and cat like appearance. Gray and black, they were dull. His skin was ghostly due to the blood loss and the wounds were still gaping wide because he had no energy to heal them. When he realized he wasn't in the dingy attic, he groaned. The sound was hoarse and ragged, but he tried to push himself upright. "You damned...idiot," he hissed, glaring up at the other, who was taller than him. Most everyone was. He couldn't even sense what he was thanks to the state he was in. Sitting up, he reached down into his boot and pulled out another knife. "Fucking...Leave. I'm doing this." Such determination. Such loathing. Such hatred. He tried to get his chest again, tried to end his life...again.<br/><br/>No, there was nothing that could keep him from ending his own life. Nothing short of being bound, against his will. He was more determined, though his hands were shaking, weak. Tears fell out of his face, though he wasn't angry at the other. He was too weak and he was losing strength and it was impossible to complete the act. The knife fell away as his consciousness wavered again. "Dammit," he whispered. "Dammit. Just...kill me. Please. I can't...I can't." He sobbed, openly and broken, the sobs growing loud with forlorn that the world kept dragging him back. It was like purgatory, and he had no escape. He begged the other to kill him, to just end it. Because he couldn't take it anymore.