Naturi listened to the thud and slowly blinked back into reality. Looking at the door as she banged on it. Was she really expecting him to tell her? Or answer her? Or yell through the door? He was soft spoken and she wasn't worth yelling at. He wasn't worth it. He held no worth. He rolled his eyes as he weakly focused on her bitching rants. He wuoldn't tell her he was a cutter. he wouldn't admit this. He looked to the floor. A couple drops from the knife. Dying in here? He wished. Alas....not even death accepted or wanted him. He kinda already figured she wouldn't. Nor would he desire it. He washed off the cuts and the knife. Closing it and wrapped the wounds tight. Repeatedly. Especially his palm. Putting back on the over top and rebuttoned it. He opened the door feeling weak and tired yet refreshed and relaxed. He merely walked past her and pulled out the black knife. He held it and dropped the other knife on the suitcase. Sitting on his bed and drooped a bit. He was tired. He played with the knife that was dipped and made in holy water thus enodwed with holiness. Kicking off his shoes and climbed on it more. Laying down. He continued to ignore her.