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Tsurai couldn't hold it in.
He found the nearest corner, put his hands over his head and screamed, "Oh my GOD!"

Before he fell to a squat in his little ball in his corner, crying like a baby who just woke up.

He rocked back and forth, tears streaming down his face as he was sobbing out some words resembling "not true" or "Not possible" over and over again.

He hadn't had a panic attack since... When his girlfriend and kid were murdered and, remembering that just made him cry and shake more in his corner.

Tsurai turned away when the ashes were thrown to him, his skin twitching from the contact, although ultimately, it didn't hurt that much.

Tsurai then stood up, tears still on his face and body still shaking as he eyed the needle on the table. His eyes, very briefly, shown the want and need for it. Another drug user would know that look. A look of tempatation, when someone was trying to quit, or already had, wanting to go back ot their former addiction.

But instead, the boy grabbed the syringe, needle pointing upward at his wrist and tendons, and he rose it above his head, like a knife prepared to stab someone.

And that's what he was going to do.

"You f**!" He screamed, needle coming down on Cyrus' head.


Tsurai either didn't see the knife in Cyrus' hands, or didn't care, because if the boy wasn't stopped, he'd keep stabbing the man who raped him, yelling out profanities at every turn, loud as day in his already-raspy voice from the fever of before and god-knows what else from a few hours a go.

Tsurai was held, and forcefully let the remaining air from him through his nose.

"You raped me," he growled.

Tsurai's face was already ruined with.. Whatever the pox things were called, and being no stranger to pain, the knive at his cheek, of all non-fatal places, didn't phase him much.

His left hand was free, he brought it behind his back and in a fist.

"I'm against you, and you left jokers in your deck," he proclaimed, throwing his left fist to the side of Cyrus' head.

Tsurai let go of the needle and fell on his back, needle bouncing somewhere to the side.

Now a long slice from his right cheek to his chin, he was bleeding all over his face and neck. The boy closed his eyes, lying limp on the floor, trying to figure out if Cyrus was going to kill him now or if Tsurai played dead he'd be okay.

That didn't make much sense as a thought process, but neither did the situation he was in.
Plus, his fever was flaring up again; probably from all the "action".

Cyrus was walking toward Tsurai with the knife in tow, and when Isiah started banging on the door, they both looked with an awkward parallel facial distortion of anger.

Tsurai quickly got a hold of himself, however, and rolled toward the door, getting up and running to dislodge the chair from the beneath the doorknob.

"Isia--" He couldn't finish, because at that point, Cyrus had grabbed a hold of the chaino n Tsurai's dogtags, choking the boy.

Tsurai's face turned red underneath all his blood and he kicked the chair from the door, just before he fell over from a combination of fever's dizziness and blood loss.
Pair that with how Cyrus didn't let him fall all the way-- Tsurai thought his neck was going to break. He wearily tried to get back on his feet while clawing at Cyrus' hand as Tsurai's face began to turn blue.

Tsurai's dogtags were a queer kind. It was a signature of his family. He'd been given the chain at birth; there was no latch, he could never take it off, and it was just small enough so it couldn't slip over his head, no matter how hard he pulled(although Tsurai didn't try to pull it off that much, considering the head pain of chain squeezing against skin).
The dogtags were blank, and the chainw as actually meant so people could choke the person wearing it- supposedly a sign of strength to take on challenges, or something... Tsurai never looked much into it. They were just dogtags, afterall.

Tsurai was free, and immediately sucked in the air that he had taken for granted most of his life. Being shoved to the side, he turned away from Isiah beating the living hell out of Cyrus as he gagged, coughed, and just overall tried to suck in as much air as possible.

Then the pain in the a** hit him again, and Tsurai fell to his side, laid on the floor, panting, and trying to decide whether or not to close the gaping wound on his face or just leave it bleeding. Lightheaded as he was, he decided to close his eyes and leave the thing alone.

"Well I've got like an inch deep cut on my face and I'm bleeding profusely," He whispered, trying to be funny, and miserably failing at it. "But otherwise, aside from the lightheadedness and it hurting to talk, I think I'm just about dead.." He coughed.

"Alive, I mean. Or blacking out. Whichever."

Sqeezing his eyes shut even more, he wished he would black out. Everything was beginning to spin slowly again.

Tsurai's face was still wet with tears from the panic attack before, and new tears started slowly when he was turned on his back, but then tore anew when the peroxide came on him.

He shook his head side to side, "No! Quit it!!" He yelled hoarsely; now he was just losing his voice.
Tsurai grabbed Isiah's hand and with shaky breaths and shakier movements, the boy pulled himself up, using Isiah as leverage, and then sat on his thighs, positioning himself so he wouldn't tear another hole in his a**.

Then, after he was positioned, he quickly took his hand from Isiah's, as if it burned him to touch the man. And, phychologically, it did.
Isiah was gay. Cyrus was gay. Tsurai had just been raped. Now what?

Tsurai didn't even know what Isiah was doing to him, anywayway.

Looking to the bloodied mass that was Cyrus on the floor, he hoarsely said, "Why aren't you burning it shut?" As if that were the normal thing to do under the circumstances.

And to Tsurai, it was the normal thing, but Isiah didn't know that.

"Fine, wrap it," he mustered with a sigh, his posture slumping.

He turned his face to the right, so Isiah could do what he wanted with his huge slash.

"...Dun wanna talk about it..."

Tsurai didn't know what the neosporin tube was, and when he was handed it, he took a brief look at it before saying "no thanks".

When Isiah was done, Tsurai laid back down on his side and closed his eyes with a sigh. Sleeping on the floor was just fine. His head was pounding, anyway.
"No," he whispered.

He didn't want to talk about what Cyrus did to him; it was humilating...