Disclaimer: I do not own Blue Exorcist
Warning: very angst Rin
Also, may be a little RinxBon in later chapters

Scarlet. All I saw was scarlet, the color of warm, slick blood. My blood. I watched it roll down my arm with a satisfying sting, the pain making itself known and noticed. I focused on it, focused on the feeling; rather being in agony then let my emotions swell up unbearably. I could tolerate this kind of pain. I could tolerate feeling the blade slide across my arm over and over, creating red welts that would soon heal. Heal faster than I would have liked. It reminded me of what I was. A demon. The thing I had always been afraid of being, always told I had been. I had always denied it. I always believed it wasn't true. It was all lies. In the end, I had been wrong. They had been right. I was a monster. I had no one. No family, no friends. No one who cared. No one who even went as far as pretending they cared. I had always tried so hard. I had tried to be "normal", to fit in, to have friends like everyone else. But how could you fit in a world that you didn't even belong to? Where no one wanted you around? For awhile I pretended I was happy, I pretended so everyone would think I didn't care how they felt. That their words didn't bother me. But I soon realized they couldn't care either way, whether I was smiling or crying, they could less. No one saw. No one listened. But I didn' expect them to. Why should they bother caring for something that wasn't even human?

But it wasn't my fault. I didn't ask to be like this. I didn't want to be a demon. I didn't want to be the son of the very thing that has brought suffering to this world more than anything else. I didn't want this life. I didn't want any of this. All I wanted was to feel accepted. Was that really too much to ask for?

Apparently it was. I only had one thing to keep my emotions stable, and that was my knife. Whenever I felt like I was about to break, when my emotions were about to become too much, I did this. I know what they say. That it didn't actually help. It just made everything worse. But they were wrong. It did help. It helped more than they could ever know. It's not like I could talk to anyone about it. The one person who would've listened was dead. Long gone and dead. I couldn't tell my brother, Yukio; he wouldn't want to hear it. I honestly don't even know if he cared. Many times I wondered, did Yukio still blame me for our father's death? That would explain why he had been so harsh towards me lately. Or maybe it was because since the old man died he didn't have to fake his true feelings anymore? That made me wonder even more, had he ever actually seen me as his brother? Or had I always been a dangerous monster in his eyes? Had he been faking everything this whole time? Did I even know him anymore?

No. I didn't. I got thrown unexpectedly into this new, dangerous world, finding out my whole life was a lie, everything I had been told was a lie. I didn't even know how to feel about the old man anymore. After everything that I heard...I felt numb. Had he even really been trying to be a father? Or was his entire purpose just to make me a weapon? Just to use me? Is that the only reason he saved me? I refused to believe it. The old man was not like that. He wouldn't do that. He was the only one who cared about and for me when anyone else would've left me to die. He was my father. More than that, even. He was my dad.

And I wished more than anything that he was still here.
I finished the last, final cut and dropped the knife. I stared down at my arms, all cut up and bleeding. Pain throbbed from them, but it was barely enough to shut out the ache growing in my heart. I outlined the red in with my eyes, watching the skin slowly stitch itself back together. Using a normal knife hadn't worked, in less than five minutes all the cuts I had made healed, making my skin look good as new. I had stolen a holy metal knife from Yukio in the hopes that would work better and it did. Not as much as I had hoped, but it did. Not only did it make the cuts stay longer, but a simple touch of blade made my skin burn. It was almost enough to forget about the mental pain
Almost.
My thoughts wandered back to the old man as I stared at the cuts. I could imagine if he walked in on me, walked in right now and saw what I was doing to myself. He would be so worried, probably ground me for a month, not let me even near a knife for what would seem like forever. He would be disappointed. But even more than that, he would try to understand why. He would wrap me in his arms and hold me until I spilled everything, until I finally broke down and cried into his shoulder. He would comfort me, just like a parent should comfort their child. Then he would help me. He would do anything he could to make sure I got better. He would care.
I began to feel ashamed, ashamed as I did everytime I finished self-harming. I would be mad at myself, 'this isn't why he died for you' I always thought. And then I'd do it all over again. It had become a vicious cycle, one I couldn't break free from. I wished Shiro was here.
I put my head in my hands as the phyiscal pain was drowned out by all the emotions screaming inside of me. Cutting had finally become not enough. I drew my knees close to my chest and wrapped my arms around my legs. I let my forehead rest on my knee caps and tried to calm them, tried to bottle them up and make them leave me alone. It didn't work. Before I knew it I was crying. Warm, salty tears ran down my face, only followed by more. I couldn't stop them. I didn't want to stop them. I just wanted all this to end.
"Rin?" A familiar voice pulled me out of my thoughts. A voice that made me freeze with sudden panic. The voice was filled with shock and fear. I forced myself to look up and met the turquoise eyes of the person who had walked in one me.

"Yukio…."

That's all for now! Thanks for reading. Reviews are always welcome