All Hope Is Gone - Slipknot

8. Corey

tw: suicide, death, existential dread, hallucinations, gore. a bit short but i dont think this one needs to be quite as long

The pity of his mind was too much constantly. His mind seemed to pity him and he despised it for that. Thoughts were all unwanted contamination of self blaming and pity. He pitied himself for being a broken shell of a formerly lively and healthy person, and guilt for being so ignorant about how good he ahd it and ignored and let his depressions win over him even then.

Corey took a long drag of a cigarette and looked  onto the puny unprofessional graves that were poorly written on and might fall into the unthoughtful category to the uneducated eye, which was so far from the truth. Those graves were the last thing he actually tried on before his new depressions had grabbed him by the throat. He sniffled and began feeling tears well up in his eyes.

He missed them. He missed everyone he had lost. He missed Wednesday even though they hadn't really talked much. He missed his brothers and friends and family.

He sniffled and swore he heard a creek behind him from the old doorframe.

"No." He breathed. His voice shook and he saw his breath in the air. He felt mad and upset and just wanted to burn the sight of the flies and the dead stares with unexplained reason. He wanted to die too, so badly it ached him.

"Please Corey, just talk to me." He heard. It was different than last time. Last time it was unclear mesh and buzzing of the flies making all of them. It sounded like Sid.

"Please go away. You're dead. You died with everyone else and you're just back to try and get me to stay. I wont! I can't, Sid. It's killing me."

"Well then, die."

"What?" Corey turned and nearly broke down when instead of Sid it was just those fucking bugs that had haunted him.

"I said, you can die, Corey. It's okay. Well, we all may feel shame for letting you do that to yourself. Because with us it was different. With us, you were still around to find us. If you die nobody's going to find you. Wouldn't that be a shame."

"No, please. I just want to go I can't stay."

"Then do it you little shit why don't you go die in that fucking smelly room that you haven't cleaned and are slowly ruining with all that puke and trash from your little episodes." It sounded like they were all talking. Taking turns with a voice to degrade him down further and shame him for his current state.

Corey felt more tears fall. He felt weak and thin. He stormed past the mass he knew would cling to himself soon.

He walked and grabbed every drug he could find, every bottle of alcohol, every blade and bullet.

He set it all down and started to just drink and slowly go. He didn't want it to be fast he wanted to feel all the pain keep going so he could feel the righteous feeling of a righteous pain to just do it.

He slowly carved into his arms and felt tears stream down his face.

Soon the pain became so unbearable and his sobs became so loud he could barely breathe. Snot clogged his nose and hiccupy breathing made oxygen harder to get into his lungs which felt like they were burning.

He finally grabbed the gun and pressed that final trigger with a breath of relief.

The tears stopped, blood staining the carpet and bed. His body lay sideways in final peace after suffering for far too long. His arms dripped out until his body was the white of snow in the sun that blinds you. His eyes stayed staring with an empty blue look full of sorrow and tears. He looked mutilated, a knife.  a gun, empty bottles, and medication bottles hardly with anything inside them. But, it was done.

Finally.

Solace.

Peace.