Dustin cried out in pain as he was slammed into the wall. "No! I don't even know what your talking about." he coughs up blood as he was hit over and over again. Struggling to get away. He was not made for kicking muscular mens asses. He struggles hard and looked at Larkson in confusion and pain. "Your an asshole who thinks he is macho and all that." he hisses. Ignoring the fact he was held by his throat to the wall. He curled into a ball as he looked at Fiona in fear. Cringing as she came close. "No...you won't. No one cares. No one. I know this. Not worthy of caring. Nothing...I am a nothing. I know how people look at me. Pity, hatred, indifference, ignorance...I have seen it all directed my way." He had tears trailing down his face. "I don't even know what I did to screw up this time." He says. Struggling to his feet and runs into the bathroom. Shutting the door he pulled out his knife. Sanitized yet still tinted with red hue on it. He cut several times. Allowing the tub water to wash away the blood. "Now I understand...something. Now the other pain...doesn't hurt as bad." He whispers to himself. The knife in his hand lowering to the floor. He just watches the blood flowing from the wounds.<br/><br/>(This will be the first of many times he cuts himself. He can't help it. He needs to rationalize. It is how he learned to cope. To survive.)