Title:none Fandom/original:original Characters: Rating:M Word count:117 He sat. A hunched figure in a dingy concrete corner between two dingy buildings. The sharp point of the compass pricked his skin and he drew it down. Drew it across, covering the same pattern again and again. Marked by blood, the symbol is sliced deeper and deeper into the flesh of his thin, white forearm with each pass of the compass. A buzzer sounded somewhere close. The youth stands, slips the compass into his backpack and rolls down his sleeve to cover the marks he put there and walks away. Later, his mother notices a stain on that sleeve. She spends half an hour scrubbing it clean never realizing some things cannot be removed or forgotten.