Dustin looked at her and shook his head. â€œNot a problem. Just unexpected.â€ He said honestly. Twitching again. He needed to do it. How long was she going to stand there? She was between him and the bathroom. Between him and being able to cut. He nodded his head as she spoke to him. â€œThank you.â€ he said. He needed to do it. This whole transition had him on edge. He watched her leave to go to the kitchen. Grabbing his blade, gauze, and bandaging tape. He stuffed the gauze and bandaging tape into his pockets. Then put the knife in his waistband. Walking into the bathroom and shut the door. Locking it and turned on the tub water. He put the gauze on the toilet along with the bandaging tape. Nobody would ever know. Nobody would ever understand. He needed to do this. He needed to do it to avoid going over the edge. Not that his guardian angel ever let him die. He hated that.<br/><br/>When it got to be too much he hated it and ended up trying to kill himself. It always failed. He walked in front of a car...his guardian angel tackled him onto the sidewalk. He jumped off a building...his guardian angel flew and caught him. Taking him to solid ground. He cut his throat...the damn asshole healed it and stopped the bleeding. Each time he almost did he woke up in the hospital. It was annoying. His guardian angel just didnâ€™t want death to take him. He bet death got annoyed with always having a soul snatched back from him.<br/><br/>He took off his overshirt revealing a black tank top underneath. The arms riddled with faint white lines on the front and back of his arms and hands. He turned the tub water on. Letting it run at full blast as he pulled the blade from his waistband. He needed to do this. Nobody would ever understand the suffering that led him to doing this. That started him doing it. Nobody would ever understand why he had suicidal tendencies. He was alone in the world. He had never met his rich grandmother who had had him transfered here once his parents died. He brought the always razor sharp blade to the area near his elbow. Dragging the blade across as the skin cleaning split open. Blood beginning to trail down his arm. He took the blade lower. Slicing in the middle of his arm next. Again the skin split open with very little resistance. The pain of the blade made it all better. The stinging of the cuts made sense. He understood this pain. This true pain. This realistic pain. The blade went across his wrist next. Blood trailing down his arm in rivers from the cuts. He hovered his arm over the water in the tube. The blood that dripped off going down the drain. The last cut he made was to the middle of his palm. After that he just held the blade. Watching the rivers of blood trail down his arm. Watched them drip off the tips of his fingers into the rushing water.<br/><br/>He let himself bleed openly for twenty minutes. His eyes a bit frosty from blood loss but he was far from being dead. He cleaned the cuts. Washing the blood off them. Then began to gauze the wounds. Wrapping them in gauze and holding it in place with bandaging tape. Doing this around all the cuts. He then slipped on his overshirt and buttoned it back up. Cleaning the blood off the floor from the blade he had set down. His blood would smell earthy and coppery. He rinsed the blade off until blood flowed off it no more. Then turned the tub water off. Sticking the items back into his pants. He walked out of the room but stopped. Leaning against the door as the entire time he had heard beautiful piano music. He walked to his bed and laid down. Calling out to her. â€œSOUNDS BEAUTIFUL!â€ He then closed his eyes. Now he was tired. Nobody would ever know...right? He always cleaned up after himself. It wasnâ€™t like these people were vampires. Little did he know everyone here was vampire or demon. Except him. He was human.