WARNING IN ADVANCE. TRIGGER ALERT, TRIGGER ALERT. THIS CHAPTER MAY LEAD TO CUTTING TRIGGER. PLEASE DO NOT READ IF THIS MAY AFFECT YOU.

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11 months after apocalypse

I don't deserve to be alive. I could have saved them. This is my fault. I made them die. My fault... My fault... Her thoughts chanted in her head. She went to bring the razor down, adding to the collection of scar-like wounds on her wrists. She bit her lip at the pain, but ignored it, watching the scarlet red liquid flow from her body.

It's my fault they're dead. My fault... My fault... She leaned her head back against the wall, tears slipping free from their prison. She flinched as the bathroom door opened. Sebastian swore loudly, grabbing a ratty towel from the linen closet. He tossed the razor away, lifting her body to rest her in his lap. He took the towel, wrapping it tightly around the cut. His eyes grazed over the pervious ones before that, the states ranging from irritated in appearance to faded.

"Why would you do this to yourself?" he asked her softly, cradling her head against his chest and rocking her back and forth.

"I'm the reason they died. I should be dead too. It's my fault. My fault..." she murmured out, looking over at the razor. "I'm broken, Seb. I'm so broken it's almost laughable. Two people die, and I'm reduced to mutilating myself. But, I can't stop. I feel better afterwards. Almost like, the guilt and pain is released with the blood I spill. But eventually, the feeling comes back. And I repeat it over and over just to get rid of it."

Sebastian couldn't find the words to express how he felt. He buried his nose in her hair, squeezing his eyes shut, and unconsciously applied more pressure to the cut.

"We'll get through this. We always have. But please, don't hurt yourself anymore. I can't stand it. Next time you feel the guilt and pain, come talk to me. You don't need to do this anymore. You have me to console you. I know this probably might sounds selfish, but you need to stop this. It not only hurts you, but it hurts those around you. I don't want seeing you hurt yourself again." He lifted up the towel, the light pink staining a rich red. The cut welled again, and he laid the towel back over it. They sat in quiet it for a while, wrapped up in their own thoughts.

"I don't know if I want to live, or if it's just a habit," she said quietly.

"Don't let it be a habit. Enjoy the small things this world still gives us. We will get through this. We will make a life for ourselves. I mean, look at this house we found! It has all the accommodations we need. We can do this."

"I don't think I could do this without you, Seb. You're my anchor in this world. Without you, I feel like I would be a part of the debris swept away in the rushing river. Thank you so much," she confessed, finally looking away from the razor. Never again...