13 ;; wrong

52 7 3

by astrimars

by astrimars

Everything was wrong.

Everything was so very wrong. So, so, very, wrong. Was it from the blood splatters all over the room? Or because of his menacing laugh? The kind of laugh that would send shivers down your spine, at even simply just a thought.

Making it was his shaking grasp on the crimson stained knife. Perhaps it was the way he looked mad, absolutely bonkers. Or maybe it was the fact that he just couldn't stop.

The sound.

That's what it was.

The repeated slashes against his flesh, delicate and gentle but still painful. It just wouldn't stop. It didn't matter how much he begged. It would never end.

He was the problem, he knew it.

But, he didn't stop.

Not once. Not when his own best friend blacked out in front of him. He continued, mumbling soft curses to himself. His clothes getting more stained by the second.

He had lost himself.