Disclaimer: I don't own Beyblade or any of its characters, merchandise, TV rights, ect… (I think you get the point.)

Summery

ONE SHOT –Just because you find out more about someone dosen't mean who or what they are changes. And at the end of the day to true friends it never really matters what you do because they will always care. Mariah/Matti Friendship Like it or hate it please R and R as honest opinions are always welcomed.

I know I tend to get so insecure,
It doesn't matter anymore,
It's not always rainbows and butterflies,
It's compromise that moves us along,

The First Cut Is The Deepest Mariah's POV

Guilt. A strange emotion, rooted in what deep dark part of the psyche, who can say? I know I can't, it does different things to us all. Some will turn it outwards and try and fight the word, do horrific things in an effort to block out the rising wave of self hatred. Others will draw in on themselves, shut out the world and rot and fester in the dark disappear of their minds.

I'm not sure which of these I am, or even if I am something else. All I know is the guilt is illogical, unreasonable and that it writhes in my stomach like a mass of snakes. It's late and I more than anything I want to slip into the sweet oblivion of sleep. But my mind is buzzing and every nerve in my body feels hot-wired and ready to explode at the slightest provocation.

She is sleeping beside me on the sofa, her soft pale pink hair falling lose around a face that is pale and drawn. There are dark shadows under her eyes like sooty thumb prints and her checks are streaked with dried tears. Her head is pillowed on my right shoulder, her full mouth dips down at the corners and a slight frown line is evident on her brow. Even in sleep it seems there is no peace for her this night.

A small sigh escapes my lips as I intently study the silvery scar on the palm of my left hand. Running diagonally from just below my index finger about two inches long. I trace the tip of my right index finger along slightly curved line, I can't help but wonder if this is where it all started.

I remember swearing the oath with her, declaring her my blood sister as our two cuts bled into one another, mixing our life blood forever and always. Looking at her sleeping now another sharp stab of guilt goes through me, I can't help but question if it was then, in that moment that she looked at that knife and first saw it as a way to make her world better? That if I hadn't agreed to becoming blood sisters we wouldn't be in the situation we are now.

I rest my head on top of hers; her hair feels silky soft against my skin. I let my right hand fall and entwine my fingers with hers. Her arm rests against mine, soft smooth skin, but interspersed with the rough lines of dried blood. A cuter. Hmmm, it dosen't sound right to me. It's too simple, too inhuman. Or maybe it isn't. I don't think I know anymore.

I never though about it really, but whenever I did I could never see the logic behind it. How could drawing a knife over your own flesh, watching your own blood trickle over your skin, how could that make you feel better? How could it help to lessen the pain of the life you lead?

It wasn't until earlier when I walked in unexpectedly on her, holding the blade, fresh cuts marring her forearms, that I understood. Logic had nothing to do with it. I'm ashamed to admit it, but I'm not shocked by what she has done, but only that I didn't ever notice. We all cope with the stresses of our lives in our own way. Emily will pound the court till her mussels ache and her hands blister on her racket. Kai well beat a punch bag till his fists bleed. And Ming-Ming will go to the beach with a slightly pornographic novel she wouldn't be caught dead with in everyday life and burn her troubles away.

I sigh again and shift slightly, my thoughts are erratic. I raise my head and look at her, she always seems so strong and self-assured, but as I look at her now, sleeping she looks so vulnerable. But I guess we all look that way when we sleep. I drop my head on hers once more and close my eyes, I think I can see why or at lest one reason why she does what she does sometimes, and it's something I too have done. Use one pain to block out another.

You hear them all the time and never really take any notice of them, and then at times like this the come floating up from your subconscious and you wonder if who ever said them really knew what they were talking about. I've heard them all 'Pain is just weakness leaving the body.' I don't believe that and I never will, I've seen to many people I love suffer needles pain through no fault of their own. Sometimes the grates show of strength is to sacrifices your own well-being for the sake of another person.

'Pain is your friend, it keeps you awake and angry and reminds you to finish the job. But do you know the best thing about pain? It lets you know your not dead yet.' And sometimes this is the last thing we want to be made aware of. The days when you lie curled up under the bed covers crying because the pain in your heart makes you feel physically sick. These are the days when we would give anything for the pain not to be there reminding us that the real world is still out there waiting for us.

I settle more comfortably leaning my weight against her. Guilt still eats away at me, but I think it is centred around not being aware of what was going on with those closest to me. I'm not selfish enough to assume that any action on my part would have or will stop her from placing that blade to her skin when the world gets too much. But also I am curtain it has never been about a desire for her roll in this world to end, I think it is true that pain lets you know you are still alive. And this is just her own way to redefine that.

I let my fogged mind wonder and my thoughts drift. And in a crystalline moment it becomes clear I don't care what she does it dosen't change anything. She is still my friend, my blood sister. The girl I have laughed and cried with. Perception is all and I think somewhere along the way I started to half believe the lines that people who self-harmed where weak and pathetic, but I know that she is neither of those things. I grip her hand tighter in mine and smile when, though asleep, she squeezes mine in return. When we judge those around us I think it says more about the type of people we are than those we label, all I know is this; that she is my friend and god help anyone to every looks down on her for she is the best person I know.

This came from several places;

1) I've read fics abut people who self harm and I just wanted to come at it from the other side.

2) I know people who have done and still do reach for a knife when things get to much for them to deal with, it doesn't alter who or what they are.

3) We all do things that other people don't under stand, but it doesn't change who we are.

4) And finely, having seen it from both sides true friends never really stop caring no matter what.

Sorry but I give up trying to explain what I was trying to put across in this fic. I know what I want to say but I don't have the words, and I think that if I try I will only confuse you all.

Please R and R I'd love to know what you thought.

Big luv see ya

Lamanth