"What do you mean you don't know?"

For some reason, I don't think any amount of explaining this to Kara will get her any closer to understanding what I mean so instead I look up from my bleeding hands to her face and say once more; with more gusto and confidence: "I don't know."

She flinches as I say that for some reason, as if the impact of my words was so great that it literally knocked her off balance, slight as though it may have been. I look back at my hands as she starts to pace around the apartment. The Vs were carved deep into my skin, with what had to be a smooth edged blade, because for starters the cut was clean and not jagged and then there was also the fact that there wasn't a single serrated edged knife in the apartment. I'm sure that's important because I wouldn't have bought a knife to cut myself. No, this was something done on impulse; and here I am examining a wound, assuming it's self inflicted and diagnosing what I used to do it as if this was normal at all.

All the while, blood's still leaking out of the wounds and dripping down the palms of my hands, only to stop when it flows down my wrist and gets caught and soaked up by the cuff of my shirt. I take a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm myself but that plan gets thrown by the wayside the second Kara opens her mouth again.

"This is why you need a shrink."

"Really?" I ask as my eyes continue to scan across my hands to find faint blood stains on the middle three fingers of either hand. Light patches of red, dried and already cracking and I don't need to look back towards the blood stained wall to figure out how it came to be there. Though because I can never be too sure, I do anyway and on the yellowish white carpet are stains of red. Drops really. A path from the wall to the couch.

I blow on my left hand to see if that would for some reason stop the bleeding a little bit and get only pain in response.

"We have band-aids, right?"

"Is that really important right now?"

I could say yes and leave it at that, but instead I turn my hands around and stick my open palms out for her to see. Her eyes widen and she's taken a bit aback at the sight before mumbling something to herself and making a hasty retreat to the bathroom. As she steps out of my field of vision I swing my legs out off the couch and onto the carpeted floor and push myself up to my feet without pressing my hands to the couch cushions. Because even in times like this, I'm careful not to stain anything except for myself or the carpet, apparently.

On unsteady footing I find myself taking my first steps since discovering my therapy session was... well to be honest I don't even know what it was but it sure wasn't a therapy session nor were any of my problems solved. Matter of fact, the latter happened and now I'm staring right at a dead body laying right on the living room floor.

Wait, what?

I blink and it's gone. Long gone. As in like it never existed and I don't know why I'm stuck thinking it actually did. The sound of footsteps catches my attention and I look towards the source to see Kara walking towards me with a box of Adhesive Pad band-aids in hand and a scowl on her face.

"Sit down."

Nothing about her voice should frighten me, but everything about it does. Without looking back, I fall backwards, hoping to catch myself on the couch but with no such luck. Well, not in the way I hoped for anyway. My spine smacks off the cushion and in that position I sit; resting my back on the front of the couch, seated on the floor.

"Close enough. Gimme your hands."

I do as she asks and while she applies the bandages to the wounds; and by that I mean she just sticks the things wherever the cut is without paying attention to what part of the band-aid is actually covering the wound, I look around the room for what feels like the hundredth time and hope that I see something different. Something I haven't seen in the previous ninety nine scans and finally, I think I do. Something black, up against the wall right under the bloody Klein. I start to pull away from Kara but she's too quick and grabs a hold of my fingers and yanks me back to her, causing me to emit a sharp yelp in response.

"Settle the fuck down."

And just then, I let spill something that had been on my mind ever since she walked in.

"I don't think we're safe here."

Now of course, given my well let's just call it frantic mental state and the fact that she's currently covering up wounds that we both suspect to be self inflicted, that wasn't the best thing to say at the moment and resulted in achieving absolutely nothing. Well, except for getting Kara to burst out in a fit of laughter and loosen her grip on my hand. So, in a roundabout away it did help me but not with what I was expecting it to.

"Of course not--" she starts before I pull myself away and make a break for the wall without her waiting, ready to stop me, "Come back here!"

"Nope! Sorry!"

Upon reaching the wall and seeing the black thing in all its glory I come to the conclusion that it is indeed the handle of a knife; the blade of which is currently stabbed into the base of the bloody wall. Instead of grabbing it and pulling it out, I turn back to Kara and repeat; more frantic and wild than the first time:

"I don't think we're safe here."

I turn my head violently back to the wall and then upwards, out the window that was once a door.

"And why's that?" she asks, frustrated but nonetheless willing to hear me out, if only to make fun of me for whatever supposedly insane thing that'll fall out of my mouth next.

"I don't think the window should be looking out into that," I say, pointing to the glass where on the opposite side we (hopefully) see snow falling on a barren frostbitten tundra.

With eyes wide, she utters, stammering and stumbling over her words:

"Yeah, we-we should g-go..."

Too bad you can't!

I backpedal away from the window while Kara makes her way over to the door. Once she gets there she grabs onto the handle, pulling it as hard as she can but it won't budge.

Then, the window splinters, and the glass breaks. Next thing I know a powerful gust of bone chilling wind knocks me off my feet and sends me falling back first onto the floor.