Rai lay limp on the bed, with no will, no drive, nothing. He was too weak now to kill himself. Maybe if he healed from some of the blood loss he could finish the job. He was just so much more powerful now. At least when he'd tried to kill himself the first time he had nearly succeeded. "Gods be damned. Why can't you all just let me die?" he rasped. He didn't recognize the term. It was really close to the Japanese term resignation, but the dialect was different. His hand balled into a fist and he tried to move away from him, but he was far too weak. He couldn't do anything. He wasn't anything anymore. He'd destroyed all his pride, all his dignity. There was no love in his life, no family, no friends. He was desperately alone and there was no place to call home.<br/><br/>He glared at him, then shoved his hand away from his wounds. "You know nothing about me, or what I've been through. Don't try to put yourself in the same boat as me you fucking demon," he hissed. His voice was raspy, and he was truly harmless. His physical appearance, the lack of energy. Even at fully power, outside of compulsion, Rai wasn't a confrontational creature. He didn't like to fight, even if he could lift three hundred pounds. Even if he was a contortionist, and good with knives. He'd rather fuck than fight, but right now he just didn't want any of it. Rai didn't want any of it. He didn't want to go on living.<br/><br/>Rai tried to pull away, tried to keep him from healing him, but he was too weak. Any movement made him black out for a few moments. He was hanging onto life by a thread. If he went another week without food he was going to to go into a coma. Maybe that wouldn't be so bad, though now that there was another like him, he wasn't sure if this stranger would force energy into him. His body would go into a fight for survival state, which was why he'd bled out, and why he was trying to cut his own heart out. "Why do you care? You don't know me. I just want to die. Why won't you let me die!" He sobbed and tried to wrench away from him more, to really no avail. He was trapped here, against his will, with someone who only pretended to care.<br/><br/>He tried to reach for the knife again, which hadn't been tossed yet since he'd appeared too weak to go for it. Cutting out his heart was the only way he could end things, the only way he'd be free. He begged the other, pleaded, was relentless in it. Sure he was half out of his mind, given how weakened of a state he was in. If the other put sex in his face he would feed, and he would heal. Desperation grew and he fought as hard as he could to get to the knife, to end it all, to be rid of the loneliness, the pain, the torment.