Indra woke to a blinding light in his onyx orbs. "Mr. Indra, it is time to get up, breakfast is ready for you in the dinning hall, unless you want it in bed. Mr. Ashura is working in his office, he asked that you please not disturb him, unless you really need to." Indra rubbed his eyes, and looked to the figure at the bed side, "who are you?" "I am Mr. Ashura's butler." "Oh. . .I will be down to the dinning hall to eat breakfast, thank you." "As you wish, call me if you should need anything." Indra slowly sat up, cursing the pain, but refusing to cry out. 'I must have pissed him off. I am so useless. How could I already fucked things up?' He stood up, and found a pair of boxers to put on, then slowly, and in a great deal of pain, walked out of the room, and went down to he dinning hall. 'What am I doing here? I'm to ugly, and fat to be eating right now. Maybe that is why Ashura left me alone in the morning, maybe it is because he is second guessing dating me, because I am so fat.' "Mr. Butler!" "Yes, sir?" "I do not want to eat breakfast. Please, show me to some athletic clothes, and where the indoor gym is." "Yes, of course, sir. Maybell, clear this up now." As they left the room, a girl in a black and white French maid dress comes in, and starts clearing off the table, 'she is so pretty. . .I bet Ashura likes her more then me. I know that she is prettier than me.' After getting dressed and shown to the gym, Indra worked out for hours, and hours. He threw up twice, and passed out once, but he still kept running, and lifting weights. Doing sit up after sit up. Finally at one in the afternoon, after four hours of working out, he was barely able to walk back up to his and Ashura's room, but he did. He stripped of his soaked in sweat clothes, and jumped into the shower. He cleaned his body till his skin was red and bleeding. Then he washed his hair twice with the finest shampoo and conditioner. 'I have to do this, I have to be pretty.' A voice in the back of his head asked him why. 'Because. . .because I want Ashura to notice me. . .' The voice in his head said, 'Because your an attention whore. Go find him and beg for his cock, you slut. You disgust me.' "Shut up." 'Why? You know it is true.' "No it is not." 'Yes, it is. You know your a slut. You know you are ugly.' Indra grabbed his head in his hands, "Shut up!" "Mr. Indra, are you okay?" Indra looked behind him, afraid to see it be Ashura, but it wasn't. It was the maid from before. "I am fine, thank you." "Oh, okay, do you want lunch?" Indra bit his lip, until it was bleeding, going back and fourth between the fact that he was starving, and the fact that he was fat. "N-. . .No thank you." "Do you feel okay?" "Yes, it is just I am not feeling very hungry." "Yes, Sir," Maybell nodded, and then turned and left the room." 'Fat ass.' Indra didn't want to deal with it anymore, he sat down in the shower, and cried, his body shaking. After his eyes felt like they were burring, he turned off the water, dried his body, and then put lotion on, and did face mask after face mask, plucked his eyebrows to perfection, and then put on a big sweat shirt, and plodded down stairs. He found Ashura's butler. "Um, excuse me," Indra said shyly, then tapped on the butler's shoulder. "Ahh, yes, sir, I am sorry. What do you need?" "Please cancel my classes at the high school, and contact my family, tell them, um, that I am at a new residence, and that they can visit shortly, as soon as I get settled." "Yes sir, right away sir." Indra plodded back up stairs, and sat on the bed. Now he pondered what he would do. Ashura had been working for so long. Perhaps he could ask the butler to make Ashura some food, and he could bring it to him. 'Why? Is it because you want to see him so bad? What a slut?' 'Please stop, I am trying to find happiness, and you are just fucking running it.' The voice snickered, 'you think I care? That is what I am here for. You created me to have a reason to hurt yourself.' Indra just curled up into the fetal possession, and closed his eyes, trying to stop. Trying to focus on anything else then the voice, but it was voice in his head, that he created, and all he could hear was it screaming at him. Again and again to cut. 'Cut. Cut. You know you want to. Just do it. Cut. Cut. Cut because he doesn't want you anyway.' The last comment broke Indra's will. That was all that the voice had to say, and Indra was always looking through the bathroom cabinet. He found nothing there. So he set out to the kitchen, on the main floor toward the back corner of the house, and to his surprise, nobody was there. He wandered around till he found the rack on the wall of all the shinny knives. He smiled a cruel, and hurt expression upon his lips, and chose the skimpy but sharp prep knife. He put it in the pocket of his sweat shirt, and then walked up to the main bathroom, locked the door, grabbed the box of tissues, and started. At that time, Indra thought that not even Ashura could save him. And so it went. One. Two. Just a little deeper, three. Hold your breath, four. Five. Six. Seven, eight, nine, ten. intersect with three, eleven. Indra smiled miserably, with his back against the wall, and tears streaming down his face, stopping all the bleeding, as best as he could, with a wad of tissues. But there was still a river of blood going down the drain in a thick trickle, 'drip, drip, drip. you could have done better.' The voice sneered, and Indra blacked out.