Pelle was sitting in a chair at a table in some cheap diner, with his bandmates, and a few others, as they talked and joked about the Mayhem show the night before.

But meanwhile, he looked down at his arms, which were loosely wrapped with duct tape, a failed attempt (which wasn't even a real attempt) to close up the deep cuts he had inflicted on himself at the previous night's show. He had an apathetic, pale face, his lips, which barely had any blood, were half-open, and his sunken and tired eyes, even if apathetic, contained a hint of despair deep down as he looked at his arms, becoming aware. of what he had done.