So dark you might need a flashlight.

~K~

"You are an embarrassment!"

The smooth, shiny metal in his hand was cool; much cooler than his cheeks stung red from being slapped across the face.

"All you do is cause problems and bring shame to this family!"

Everything seemed to be amplified: the bathroom lights were so bright he was squinting and the thumping in his chest was so loud he thought it was bouncing off the white tile that surrounded him and getting even louder. The only color he could see was the faint blue he exposed by pulling back his sleeve. The only color he wanted to see was red.

"You blatantly dishonor me, and you are stupid enough to think there will be no consequence?"

He brought the gleaming metal to his wrist and took a deep breath. His fingers were trembling but he wasn't scared- he was angry. This fiery, gut wrenching anger, this hatred stirring in his stomach and making him sick… He hated this voice in his head, inescapable, reminding him of how terrible he was… Screaming the truth until he was dizzy… There was only one way to gain control of his life again…

And it was slashing across his wrist until there was red, slowly rising up out of the cut to stain his white skin. It stung, but he liked the pain. He liked that he had done it to himself. His father thought he could hurt him, but he was the one in control of his pain. Getting angry was pointless. Telling people was pathetic. It was best just to cut himself and move on. He could feel his anger draining as he broke the skin again, everything that was pent up inside him seeming to flow out with the blood that dripped from his wrist.

Kyoya lifted his head to look at himself in the mirror over his sink. His eyes only barely gave away his lack of sleep but his skin was becoming pale; if he let himself bleed any longer his complexion might become suspicious. With a sigh the teen turned on the faucet and carefully cleaned off his blade, then his wrist. Two new, dark red scars stood out amongst a sea of identical marks but Kyoya paid them no mind, pulling his sleeve down again and adjusting his school tie in the mirror.

I'm in control.

I'm happy.

For a moment, the dark haired teen frowned slightly back at his reflection in the mirror. They wouldn't believe it unless he believed it himself. The phone in his pocket began buzzing and he knew it must be Tamaki, sending him a good morning. Reaching into his pocket irritated the scars on his wrist, pain flaring up from the new marks. The stinging reminded him he was alive, in a world that made him feel as if he was made of stone.

I'm in control.

Kyoya turned and headed out into the hallway, grabbing his school bag as he went.

I'm happy.

~K~