Maka's POV
I set the pen down. Done. I slowly make my way to the kitchen. I hate myself. I hate everything I have ever done. The worst thing I have done is also the one thing I haven't done. I wish I could have told Soul how I felt. Oh well. It's irrelevant now. I grab the steak knife and trudge back to my room.
Inside my room, I stack the letters into a neat pile next to me and lie down on my bed. I sigh. This is more difficult than I would have liked. Deftly, I take the knife and make a deep cut in my left arm, followed by one on the right, and so on until there are 8 cuts on each arm. Goodbye Kid. I muse.
I snuggle into my pillows and relax, my vision fades.
