Dustin looked at her and merely nodded his head. "Wouldn't pictured you as the type to play hookie from any class." He said simply and honestly. He made a face as she spoke. Shaking his head in disagreement. He didn't think so. That was all that matter. "I am not a good musician. Average at best." He said simply. "There is nothing great or lovely about me." He said. He didn't get why she was being so positive towards him. Women had always been negative. He didn't understand her being positive with him. He also didn't believe it. His mother had always demeaned him. Whenever he played she told him how he sounded like nails on a chalkboard. How his singing was more like screeching. He believed it. After all those years wouldn't you believe it? Constantly told these things. He looked at his palm. The guaze covered it and was discreet. He knew she hadn't seen it. He didn't want her to. He fisted his hand. Too many questions...led to answers he didn't want to give. She wouldn't understand. She wouldn't understand he needed to do that. That he wasn't very lively. She wouldn't understand he had tried numerous times to kill himself. He did not always feel he deserved to live. He didn't always want to live. His guardian angel had other plans. Always saving him. He always ended up waking in the hospital instead of in heaven. Even when he slit his throat he should have died but didn't. There was something certainly not normal about her but he couldn't place it. Nobody could understand the abuse he went through since such an early age.