~*~

Kevin picked up the blade and stared at it in his hands. The metal in his hands was almost as cold as ice, and when he touched it, it sent a shiver right through his body, right down to his toes. The steel shone under the light and Kevin held it up and inspected it closely. It continued to gleam underneath luminescence. The gold handle of the knife was encrusted with a snake's body that had been wrapped around it in a cleverly aesthetic way, and that's what seemed to grab Kevin's attention the most when he first saw it. Besides the blade itself, of course, and the ways in which he could use it. There were many ways in which he could use the blade. Murder was the obvious choice. Torture, possibly. Breaking locks. Cutting through tough surfaces.

The list was endless.

The room was black around him, albeit the tiny fluorescent light that was in the bathroom, the place in which he was in, staring at himself in the mirror. Though he vowed never to look at himself ever again in any mirror as long as he lived, which wasn't going to be too much longer anyway, he still looked and he was still terrified of what he saw. It was the same dead expression in the sunken eyes. It was the same sullen face. It was the same ghostly-pale face. It was the same violated and raped body, and he knew for sure that, even because of that alone, he didn't want to continue living. Not when he couldn't sleep at night. Not when all he did was scream and cry. Not when he begged a certain someone for love, and all he got in return was hate.

Fading away, that was him.

Faded.

No, there simply weren't any more reasons to continue living. Not when he couldn't recognise himself anymore. He remembered someone saying, "when all else fails, look within yourself."

But what happened when you didn't know the person that you were? What happened when you woke up one morning, looked in the mirror, and it wasn't the same you staring right back? What happened when everyone around you seemed to hate you and hurt you, and even you began to hate yourself, began the infamous art of self-loathing, and all you wanted to do was smash every mirror in the entire world so you couldn't see how much your life was fading away? And what could you do when you tried to make things right, you couldn't and there was nothing that you could do to even make it right in the first place?

And what was the point in that, anyway, if you didn't matter to anyone? What was the point in even caring about yourself if no one else did? Was the point of continuing if you had nothing to continue for? What was the point in waking up every morning if there was nothing to wake up for? If no one else mattered, neither did you. He knew that. He knew that well. Nothing mattered to him, anymore. He was beyond caring. Caring was just too much pain and heartache, and he simply didn't have the strength to survive.

Really, when he considered everything, he'd basically lost everything he'd grown to love and cherish in his life. What was to live for if everything you loved hated you and had disappeared? There was no point in continuing, he knew that. And if he didn't, he was just deluding himself. He had nothing left to offer the word, now that everything had been taken away from him. There was nothing left for him to do. He had nothing more inside him to will himself to continue living, all that was within him had gone. Long, long gone. He'd surely and utterly lost all that he wanted to live for. Love. Friendship. Happiness. Peace. Harmony. Respect. It was all gone, vanished into thin air, and all he needed now was that one cut from the blade to take it all away. The end would set him free.

He used to be happy. He used to be very happy. So much so that he actually laughed out loud. So happy, even, that he smiled. He felt like something was missing inside him, and he knew what that was. Love. That was all he wanted. Just love. Love from someone. Anyone. All he wanted was for someone to put their arms around him, to let him cry and cry and cry, to explain everything and then just...well...understand. But he couldn't do that, and he couldn't stand the hell of everyone hating him. He didn't even try to convince himself that nobody hated him, that everyone loved him, for he knew the truth: nothing was as it used to be, and it was probably never going to be again. Ever.

There was an extreme emptiness inside him. Something like loss. Like he'd lost something very special to him. Like he was losing himself. Bizarre as it sounded, he really did believe that that was happening. But who was he kidding, really? He'd already lost himself, a long time ago. A very long time ago. He was just tired of this emptiness in the pit of his stomach that consumed him and nagged at him all the time. He didn't want that anymore, he wanted to feel happy again.

It was agony trying to fight the emptiness inside himself, but somehow it just got the better of him and he had no trouble succumbing quickly to it. Was happiness so much to ask? Was wanting to be loved so much to ask? Was wanting to be needed so much to ask? He didn't think it was, and yet nobody would even give that to him, not even in the slightest. That was why he had that empty feeling, because he knew he was alone, and he wasn't Kevin Richardson anymore. He was alone, and scared. Frightfully alone and scared of everything.

Kevin held out his wrist and stared down at the scars from previous attempts like this. But this time, it was going to be different, because this time he was finally going to do it right. He was going to slice harder and deeper into the skin than ever before. This time, he was going to do a proper job, not a botched-up silly amateur attempt at suicide. He'd done it enough to know how, he just didn't have enough strength and reason before. But now, he did. Now he had plenty of reason to want to do this. Rape, being one of them. A prime reason.

Kevin traced the longest scar that ran up his wrist with the tip of the blade and pressed down when he came to its end. He pressed down hard.

Harder.

Harder.

And harder.

Deeper and deeper the blade went, and when he saw the blood seeping out, he felt satisfaction, so he cut deeper still, until his wrist was almost covered in blood, it dripping tiny drops onto the bathroom tiles. He quickly switched hands and did the same to the other wrist, cutting deeper and deeper, making several sharp incisions, the blade diving further and further into the skin, further than he'd ever known, until both wrists were bleeding profusely and Kevin dropped the blade to the floor. It landed with a high-pitched sound.

Kevin slunk to the tiles, not even trying to stop the bleeding, his back up against the wall. He began to chant a mantra, which came out as a jumble of religious prayers. As he did, the things before him began to get blurry and his head began to spin.

"I believe in the Son, the Holy Spirit, the Almighty creator of this Earth. Forgive me my sins, for I forgive those who sin against me, and if I shall die before I wake, I - "

Too late.

Darkness took over.

~**~

A.J. stepped out of the elevator and hurried down the corridor to Kevin's room, reciting a speech over and over again. "Look, Kevin," he said quietly to himself. "You're hurt, you're obviously beaten, and you hardly talk anymore. I want to know why. And you can say nothing a million times over. I don't care, because I'm not leaving. I know it has something to do with Nick. What's he done to you? What're you two doing to each other? I want to know."

He thought that was a pretty good speech. Succinct, direct, and very much to the point. Kevin could object all he wanted, but A.J. refused to give up on this one. He wanted all this sorted out so everything could get back to normal and so everybody didn't have to feel like they were taking sides or walking on eggshells, which was how everyone was feeling with Nick and Kevin around.

All Nick did was deny everything. All Kevin did was deny everything. Which left A.J. frustrated and annoyed and angry and hurt. He was feeling a lot of things, but most of all, he was feeling sympathy and pain for Kevin, for he could see Kevin crumbling right before his very eyes, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He was helpless, and that made him even more frustrated.

A.J. knocked at Kevin's door several times. He waited. No answer. He knocked again. And waited. No answer. This time, he pounded on the door.

"Come on, Kevin, open up! It's me!" 

A.J. waited again. Still no answer. Where is he? He took hold of the door handle and turned it, surprised to find it unlocked. He opened the door slowly, stepped inside, and closed it quietly behind him.

"Kevin? Kevin, where are you? We need to talk."

No answer.

A.J. stood in the dark living room. "God, what are you, Kevin, a Vampire?" he asked himself. Then, he saw a single stream of light from the bathroom. Walking directly to it, he pushed the door open. "Kev - ?"

He finally saw Kevin, his lips blue, his face white, and the blood, and the knife, on the tiles.

A.J. fell to the tiles and took hold of Kevin's shoulders. In an instant, he was crying. "Oh, God, Kevin, I'm sorry! I'm so sorry I didn't help you before! I knew you were going to do this, and I never helped! I'm sorry, Kevin!" he sobbed. "I'm so sorry! C’mon, Kevin, stay with me, buddy, please!"

All he could think of was an ambulance and how this was all Nick's fault.

~***~

Nick patted his chest gingerly. His head was hurting something chronic, and for some bizarre reason, he'd woken up with all these little cuts all over his chest, that had obviously dried over with blood during the night, and his sheets had tiny spots of blood all over them. When he'd woken up and saw that, he almost screamed. Who would do this? A masochist? A sadist, maybe? But then he realised. He should've guessed right from the start. It had to be Kevin. Kevin must've done that while he was sleeping. But the strange thing was that he couldn't recall Kevin coming into his room last night, much less attempting to cut him to shreds.

He didn't hear Kevin's voice, he didn't remember waking up, he didn't remember anything. All he could think of was that it was Kevin who had done this to him. He patted his chest again, his head spinning, and winced. The cuts surely did hurt. But he wasn't going to get Kevin for this. No, he wouldn't. He'd already made a pact with himself to allow Kevin to do whatever he wanted to him, if it made him feel better. Not that it made Nick feel any better for what he'd done to Kevin, but somehow, some way, it almost put them at an equal stance.

"Want to talk about it?" Brian offered, sitting down next to Nick on the couch and placing his hand on Nick's shoulder. "Come on, you look like crap, there's got to be a reason for it."

Nick slapped Brian's hand away. God, what was it with people pestering him, demanding explanations from him? And why was it always him, and not Kevin? Why was it always him that people were demanding answers from? It just wasn't fair, and he wasn't going to put up with it for one minute more. He was sick and tired of everyone prying into his life. Why couldn't they just stay away and leave him alone? Shit, wasn't he hurting enough without having to add insult to serious injury?

"Just leave me alone."

Brian shook his head. "No, I'm not going to. I'll stay here forever if I have to, because I want to find out what Kevin's doing to you. I want to know why he's hurting you so much."

Nick looked away. He's not doing anything, I'm the one who's hurting him! He wanted to scream this as loud as he could, but he didn't have the strength. All he said was, "You're wrong, Brian, very wrong."

"Why?" Brian asked, looking suddenly inquisitive rather than angry. "Why am I wrong? I've seen the way he beats you up. I've heard what he says to you. I've seen the things he does to you, and I don't want to see you get hurt by him anymore. He's got no right, no right in the world for hurting you the way he is." He paused. "God, I hate him for doing this to you."

It was like he was having a sudden attack of conscience. He wanted to scream. His fingers tangled around each other in an effort to stop himself from screaming out loud, but it didn't help. Finally, he opened his mouth and he screamed. "He's done nothing! Nothing! He's not beating me! He's not doing anything! I'm the one hurting him! Me, Brian, me! Nick is hurting Kevin, not Kevin is hurting Nick! All right?!"

Brian sighed exasperatingly. "Come on, Nick, there's no need to blame yourself. I know you are," he said softly. "You don't have to cover for Kevin. We've seen what he's done."

"Well, have you seen the bruises on his face?" Nick demanded. "Have you? Don't you wonder why they're there? Don't you wonder where he got them from? Don't you wonder? Well, don't you?"

Brian frowned. "Did you punch him a few times when he tried to hurt you again?"

Nick let out a angry cry. This was it. Time to confess. "No!" he yelled. "It was because - !"

Suddenly, a siren interrupted him. An ambulance siren. They both stood up and walked over to the door. Nick opened it in time to see paramedics adorned in white rushing past them with a stretcher and yelling orders at each other.

"What's going on?" Nick said. 

"I have no idea," Brian said.

They both followed the paramedics down the hall, quickly walking after them. But when they were led to Kevin's room, they stopped at the door, watching the paramedics rushing into the room and still yelling orders at one another.

"Oh, God..." Nick whispered.

"Kevin?" Brian closed his eyes momentarily. "No, please, no."

Suddenly, the stretcher came rushing out of the room, this time holding Kevin, with bandages wrapped tightly around his wrists that were covered in blood and an oxygen mask over his mouth. Nick gasped, seeing Kevin's lips blue and face white before he was taken away. This was all his fault. He’d made Kevin do this. He knew it was all his fault, and he blamed himself entirely. His legs became wobbly and threatened to break underneath him. He felt like he was going to faint.

"God, Kevin, I'm so sorry..." Nick said quietly and a tear trickled down his cheek.

"What're you sorry about?" A.J.'s voice came from behind him, and Nick turned around quickly to see A.J.'s eyes red from crying and his cheeks stained with tears. "You had to keep pushing him, didn't you? You just had to keep tormenting him and hurting him and pushing him over the edge, until he finally fucking snapped! And you know what? I blame you!"

"A.J. - " Brian warned.

"Fuck you, Nick!" A.J. yelled as hot, furious tears running down his face. "I'm onto you, you fucking snake!"

Tears now flowed down Nick's cheeks like a raging river. "Please, no, I never meant to...hurt him..."

"You say another word about how you're sorry and I’ll fucking kill you!" A.J. exclaimed.

"A.J. - " Brian warned again.

A.J.'s emotions, however, quickly flowed to the surface and suddenly he had no control over himself. All he wanted to do was scream, and scream at Nick, for he knew that Nick was the one entirely responsible. "You did this to him! You did this to him!" he screamed. "You fucking asshole! I told you to stop hurting him! You fucking killed him!" With that said, he ran at Nick and slammed him into a wall. "You're fucking dead, Carter!" and raised his fist into the air to strike.

Upon its descent, Brian caught A.J.'s fist before it connected with Nick's cheek and stared resolutely into A.J.'s eyes, blue crystal meeting black fire. "Stop it," he ordered in a low voice. "We have to go to the hospital. Now."

A.J. shoved Brian away and glared into Nick's eyes and pushed him against the wall again, his dark eyes on fire, throwing black daggers into the depths of Nick's soul. "Let me tell you something, Nick," he hissed. "The last thing Kevin said was 'tell Nick I'm sorry'."

Nick's heart ached, his chest tightened and pained. Both from the cuts and from his stagnant breathing, his head still spinning. A tiny cry escaped from his lips. Another tear trickled down his cheek. Kevin...was sorry? He felt his heart shatter onto the floor in a million tiny pieces. And Kevin, and so much blood, and death. It didn't seem possible. But it was. And he was responsible. He was the one that made Kevin do this. It should've been him, and not Kevin.

It should've been him.

"Oh, God," Nick whispered and covered his mouth with his hand.

"And you know why he said that, Nick?" A.J. continued. "Because he didn't think he'd make it, and from the way he's been acting lately, he probably doesn't even want to." He let Nick go and took a step back, eyeing Nick with disgust and contempt. "I hope you can sleep at night, knowing you were the reason for your best friend's attempted suicide. I sincerely hope you can stand yourself, because I sure as hell can't."

~***~

Lyrics: Fade To Black - Metallica