Dance with the devil

Prologue

I'm not a psycho. I'm not a psycho. I'm not a psycho. I'm not a psycho. I'm not a psycho. I'm not a psycho. I'm not a psycho. I'm not a psycho. I'm not a psycho.

I did everything I could. It wasn't my fault. It was too late. I deserved to die. Forgive me.

That were the lines written by little pieces of chalk, all over the already peeling, light blue, crusty wallpapers. James was curled up on his old hard metal bed. Shaking. Like every other day. He just couldn't stop. Even if he wanted to, it wasn't possible. He would never forgive himself. He hated himself. But most importantly, he hated her. Not only did she betray him, but she quenched the little spark beginning to light up and break free inside of him when he reunited with his baby. She ruined his life. And she would pay. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, maybe not this week. But one day she will.

Even while he slept, his thoughts were the same. He was becoming crazy from it. It was like a milion sharp pieces of glass that he couldn't get out of his head. Maybe it was all a damn nightmare. Except it wasn't. And he knew. Everyone knew.

He couldn't even remember the last time he showered. He didn't know what day it was anymore. He has been locked in here forever. His mind was screaming and his heart was slowly tearing apart. He wanted to die. He should've died, and it was all his fault. The room was making his even more miserable. The huge windows were covered by thick metal bars, and the only thing in his small room was a bed and a bucket. The light blue wallpapers, covered in his writings were slowly peeling from the old walls. The floor was decorated with wooden planks that were old and his bed was rusty and slowly falling apart. He was let out every week to go outside, but he would not go. He didn't want to. He couldn't. All he could do was...nothing. He was a fucking monster.