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Steve is in the bathroom. sitting on the ground at the shower. holding a knife, shaking drastical and looking hysterical around.

James isn't around to help him.

'SHUT UP! KEEP OUT OF MY HEAD' Steve hisses inside his head. making a defending move with the knife holding straight forward and sitting; anxious, lonely, crashed, staring to a single water drip that's rasting on the wall. Protecting himself against him. 'YOU'RE NOT GONNA KILL ME' the hissing continues. The drip slides down and disappears.

Steve slowly takes the knife down, looking at his wrists filled with old and slightly new cuts. There are secrets he won't tell anyone. Pain he won't show anyone.

He brings the knife to his wrist and starts scratching and cutting figures, no lines, no stripes to bleed but figures like a tattoo but in this case a bleeding scar. It's dripping dark red onto the white floor of the shower cabin.

Steve watches, gentle, careful.. as the voices in his head praise them for what he does.. by every drip that falls.
"Drip it, spill it, kill it" words that repeat and repeat over and over again inside his torturing head.

He gets the knife again "You failed James!" it shouts. He places the knife bleed onto his wrist and repeatively makes lines over and over again. past each other perfectly paralle.

"SHUT UP!" Steve shouts out loud. Pressing the knife deeper on his wrist.
A sudden silence remains, no voices, no sounds, just a buzzing phonecall from James.

Steve picks up, bringing it to his ear ehile his hand shakes and his wrists keep bleeding.

"Steve??" James asks worried.

"yeah..?" Steve replies casual.

"I heard you shouting... are you okay?" James asks worried.

"nothing wrong." He replies.

"Come downstairs please.." James replies.

"I'll be there in a few minutes." Steve responds.

"Be careful." James says seriously before hanging up.

Steve stands up. washes the blood away with the shower. bandaging his wrist well ad puts a long sleeve shirt on from James closet and wanders downstairs like nothing happened at all.

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