A/N: I decided to make Tino all emo-ness, so I felt like making something that explained his thoughts a little bit. Yay! Enjoy!
This belongs to TK, so please do not edit this in any way for any reason without permission.
Tino sat in his room all alone. It was almost one o'clock in the morning—the time when the Devil loved to play tricks. It's not like his waking life wasn't enough torture for him, though. He was picked on because of his puny size, pushed around, insulted, taunted, and annoyed all day.
Before he was haunted at night, he was already suicidal enough as it was. But then what fun would it be if the Devil didn't torture him every night?
He wanted to die. He wanted nothing more than to die. No one would miss him. And if they did, they'd soon be glad they they were rid of someone as shy, useless, pathetic, moronic, brainless, emo, and idiotic as him anyway.
He took the knife he had kept under his bed for about four years and pressed to blade against his wrist.
Come on, Tino, this is what you want, isn't it?
"Yes, " he responded quietly, slicing his wrist open, smiling a little as his blood spilled out onto his pajamas. It was a beautiful shade of red. Crimson. Same color as the roses in his rose garden. He made the cut deeper, almost laughing as more blood spilled out onto his clothes.
You will soon be free of your burden if you keep this up...
He made a shallow cut on his right cheek, wondering how much it would bleed. It didn't bleed a lot, but it wasn't just a little either. He felt warm substance spill down his cheek.
He took the blade in his other hand and made a huge gash on the back of his leg from his knee to his heel.
"It's pretty." He dippd two of his fingers in it and stared at it, smiling. "Beautiful, really. It hurts so badly, though..." He sighed, almost contentedly. "Oh, well, if this is the only way to get my mind off of my constant mental torture, I must do this!"
Tino cut his forehead open, as well as his other wrist. "Who knew this could be so much fun?"
Sweet little Tino...keep this up much longer and you'll get what you want..."
He pressed the razor against his throat, cutting it enough to make himself bleed slightly. "Yes, to finally free myself of the—"
Why did you stop...?
"If I kill myself now, there are so many thing I'll never be able to tell anyone. Just one more day longer, and my death will come."
He tossed the knife back under his bed, wrapped gauze around most of his wounds, and crawled into bed.
"Tomorrow," he promised himself, just as he did every night when he did this. He fell asleep only seconds later, sleeping so peacefully no one would be able to guess he had just done something that could have cost him his life.