He's basically slashed himself up on the leg, back and wrist. you may wanna stick an M tag on this since he may get verbal.
It had been an insane idea. The wrist one more so. It hadn't hurt though, no, he had been too high on imaginary visions for that. He was far from realising it was a dream, just that. The lacerations had hurt like a bitch, the first few had prompted him too lay off the large slices and layer them up with small ones. But he had gone the whole hog with the lacerations on his leg and back. The blood was minimal on this one, but still it had leaked a sufficient amount. He had left his leg wound bare, but he had at least had the sense to tightly bandage the wounds on his wrist. Both were cross shaped, products of his insane slashing.
He was at the door of his home, the bright yellow metal grates were securely locked with the padlock and Chishio was scrambling to steady his hand to unlock the metal chunk. In hindsight perhaps slashing his strong arm wasn't a good idea. No, they told me to do it... he thought, a growl rumbling through his throat. He gave up totally, letting the key drop to the floor. There was no point, his right hand was even worse to use and it hadn't even been touched by the large glass sharp. He swore again, louder, letting it echo down the street.
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