Okay. This is a kinda squeal/prequel to my story, One In The Morning. This is just helping me work on the minor case of depression my therapist thinks I inherited from my mother…Just getting some depressing ideas out of my mind.

Warnings: Self-abuse, blood, depressing things.

Disclaimer: I don't own Kouichi or anything else to do with Digimon Frontier. I just get…depressed…sometimes.


The sleeve of his shirt was pulled back, exposing the pale wrist to the blank darkness of the night. He could see the blue-purple veins running through it, his lifeblood coursing up his arm and into his cold hand.

The other hand trembled slightly, clutching the thin, shining blade that gleamed in the moonlight. They were only inches apart, but he couldn't do it. He didn't want to…no, there had to be another way…

Then the voice came again, the voice he'd never, ever wanted to hear again, echoing through his mind.

"What, trying to get away? Coward. You don't have a prayer…"

The blade descended on the pale flesh like a vulture, one swift motion creating a single thin cut. A little blood trickled out, and the voice was silenced in wake of searing hot pain. For a moment, all was quiet. Then the voice came again.

"Is that the best you can do? Pathetic. You think you can drown me out?"

The blade came down once more, creating another long cut, slightly deeper this time. The blood oozed down his arm, dripping into his hand. It ran down between his fingers, dripping wordlessly onto the white sheet. The voice was silenced in the searing pain, but it wasn't long before it returned.

"You can't escape me, you know. I am you. The REAL you."

"N-No." he whimpered, bringing the blade down again in an almost frantic response, slicing more and more layers of skin away from the rest of the body. "I-I'm not…I'm not like you…"

"Just keep telling yourself that."

The pain seared up his arm as the blade slipped, slicing down the middle of his arm, parallel to the other cuts. The resulting spasm made him drop the blade to the floor and clutch his steadily bleeding arm.

"You could just let it bleed, you know." the voice taunted him again. "Let it all out and it could all be over…"

He bit his lip, closing his eyes against the pain and the voice. "Stop…"

"Do you really think you're winning?"

He pulled himself to his feet unsteadily, dragging himself out into the hall.

"You can't stop me."

"You're right." He growled softly, clutching his arm even tighter. "I can't…"

The door opened into the cold, crisp night air as the ragged form stumbled out into the dark, empty streets and into the bone-chilling light of the full moon. He turned his body away from the house and started walking.

"…But he can…"

With that, he began the long, painful trek to his brother's home.

Random Babble: Blade … Complete

This week's experiment………………………A little success