Cold (Kokichi angst)

Cold

He was cold. His dorm room was cold. No matter how much he wrapped himself up in blanket and limbs, he was just so cold.

He tossed over onto his back and stared at the ceiling. At least logically he should be looking at the ceiling. With how dark the room is it wouldn't be impossible for him to be staring at a rabid dog ready to tear him to shreds. Not that he would mind much. Actually the thought of something as gruesome as that happening to him felt comforting.

No, he shouldn't think that way...

But what would happen if...

What would happen if he died. How would the others react? Would they even care? Would they even bat an eye? Would they be glad he was gone? Would they say "Well he deserved it anyways" or "He had it coming."

To be honest those statements were probably true. After hurting so many of the people he cared about, not that he'd ever let anyone know he cared. After getting his friends killed...

He let out the smallest of whimpers. Feeling the tears bulid up in his eyes, he took advantage of the dark and let his tears flow. Hopefully the camera's in his room don't have a night vision mode.

He turned on his side facing opposite the front door. Facing the doors would make him irrationally fear the worst. As if staring at the door in total darkness would summon some sort of demon to come and poses his fragile frame.

Licking the salty tears on his cheek he felt a sense of deja vu. He'd been here before. Awake at 4 in the morning. The tears tasted familiar. He didn't know whether to be comforted by it's familiarity or selfish for feeling bad about himslef enough to start crying.

He doesn't deserve to cry. He's such a terrible human being. The amount of times he's lied could rival the amount of earths it would take to fill the sun. No one cares about him, so why should he.

But he's the one who made it this way. He's the one who pushed everyone away. He made them hate him. It was all going according to plan.

So why...

Why when they look at him with so much disdain and disgust it hurts. Why does it hurt so much. Maybe if he made an effort to show them he cared...

No, he couldn't do that. His plan would fail and they would never get out of this hell hole. He couldn't do that to them, even if their stares feel like daggers stuck in his back.

He curled his legs close to his chest, making himself into a ball. He was still freezing. It's like all the blood in his body has been drained. That would explain his sickly pale complexion.

He tightly wrapped his blanket around himself  and buried his nose into the fabric. The smell always seemed to calm him down when he needed it the most, but tonight he was too cold.