Vs. stabbing themselves

There was a loud crack, and then another crack, but no light. He ducked back down to where I could see his face, with a
piece of tree root in his hand, white, dead, and dry under the clumps of dirt. The edge where he‘d broken it was a sharp,
uneven point. He tossed it to me.
	"Stake me."
	I tossed it back. "Whatever."
	"Seriously. You know it can‘t hurt me." He lobbed the wood to me; instead of catching it, I batted it back. He snagged it out of the air and groaned. "You are so...superstitious!"
	"I am a vampire. If that doesn‘t prove that superstitious people are right, I don‘t know what does."
	"Fine, I‘ll do it." He held the branch away from himself dramatically, arm extended, like it was a sword and he was about to impale
himself.
	"C‘mon," I said uneasily. "This is silly."
	"That‘s my point. Here goes nothing."
	He crushed the wood into his chest, right where his heart used to beat, with enough force to punch through a granite slab. I was totally frozen with panic until he laughed.
	"You should see your face, Bree."
	He sifted the splinters of broken wood through his fingers; the shattered root fell to the floor in mangled pieces. Diego
brushed at his shirt, though it was too trashed from all the swimming and digging for the attempt to do any good. We‘d both have to steal more clothes the next time we got a chance.