He's Just "Tired..."

~44~

After a while, Ink quietly sat up in bed as he tried to ignore those voices in his mind. A certain wave of dread washed over him as he thought silently. 'Why do you bother sticking around? You'll just have guilt to live with if you stay.' Ink glanced to the side. He knew the voice had a point there. He already was living with quite a heavy guilt on his shoulders and he didn't have a way to get rid of it. He could almost say that all these stressful events had distracted him from his depression. Though, as much as he would love to say his depression was gone, it merely had been buried deep within his mind. "I don't want to stay, but I can't leave either..." 'Sure you can leave, just give up.' Ink felt like he was caught within an argument that only he knew of, which was technically true. 'How could you possibly ever expect Error to love you after all that you have done? He'll only think of you as a worthless freak.' That... That statement really stung Ink. Ink stared down at the floor silently. He was beginning to think the Multiverse was against him and trying to keep him alive for him to suffer longer.

Besides, what reason did he have to even begin to think that there wasn't at least some force of the Multiverse out there that was against him?... He then glanced around the room quietly. Was there anything sharp there that could be of 'use' to him?... Maybe he should listen to the voices... Maybe he should just...give up... Yeah... Giving up really seemed to be his only option now... After a few moments, he came across a small scrap of sharp old metal stuck between the wall and a bookshelf. He quietly got up, heading over to it to carefully remove it from its place. He then quietly slipped his sleeves up, looking at his bones. An empty look was in his sockets as he brought the scrap metal closer to his arm. 'Get it over with. End it...' his hand trembled a bit as he pressed the cold metal against his bare bone, earning a small shudder from Ink. With a swift movement, he dragged it harshly across his bone, feeling that it made a small gash in the bone; exposing the inside of the bone.

Rather than feeling pain from it, he just felt a tingly numbness in his bone. Perhaps it was his mind drowning out the pain? Perhaps his mind didn't even care enough to even register the pain anymore. Ink honestly wouldn't doubt if that was the case. He's already fucked up so much in his life. He's ruined other monsters' lives. He couldn't possibly ever expect forgiveness from anyone. Not at all. Not anymore. Without really giving it a second thought, he made more wounds on the bone of his arm with the piece of metal, not even regarding how much this could ruin his bones. He didn't care. Why should he even care anymore?...