January

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"I don't want it," Hisoka said absentmindedly to the empty kitchen. He thought cooking might take his mind off of everything but he had been wrong, ever since what happened that night it had been the only thing he could think of. He probably could have moved on from all that by now if it hadn't been for...Hisoka glanced down at his stomach and grit his teeth in disgust. He had never felt so restrained in his life. Why did this have to happen to him? This isn't what he wanted! Tears began to well up in his eyes, his efforts to fight them failing at long last. A glint of silver caught his eye from the blurry mess his vision had become. It was a kitchen knife, a sharp one. "I don't want it," he muttered as he grabbed it. He thought to himself of all that went wrong because of it, of how happy he could have been right now if it wasn't there, as he pointed the knife at it with a trembling hand. "I don't...want..."

His hand wouldn't move. He couldn't do it. The knife fell as his grip loosened and he crumpled to the ground in a sobbing heap. What was wrong with him? Why couldn't he do it? He tried to look at himself but his tears were flowing freely at this point and the only thing he could make out was that horrid bump under his shirt. "I don't want you! I DON'T WANT YOU!" Knowing he wasn't going to get any sort of reply, he cried even harder.

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