A/N: Shorty. That is all.
Trigger Warning- Suicide
Sometimes, the enemy wins.
---
Adam sits on the edge of his bed, feet placed on the floor hesitantly as though their purpose is forgotten. The sound of the ticking clock next to his doorway is loud, the clicking motion of each second seeming to rock through his body like an assault.
Click click click
Four five six
Click click click
Ten eleven twelve
The clicks and seconds meld in his head, his subconscious focusing on counting while his more conscious thoughts simply wished for the noise to cease. All noise. His thoughts. Everything.
Click click click
Thirty-two, thirty-three, thirty-four
Click click click
Crash
The clock drops from the wall, it's glass face cracked and leaving splintered debris all around it. Adam stares at it, emotionless as though anticipating something further.
Silence.
His breath is heavy.
Slowly, he leans into his side and tightens closely in on himself.
His scent is still there.
Frantically, Adam scrambles back until he reaches the end of the bed; and then, he scrambles off that too. There is a thud as he hits the floor, a gasp of surprise, and then a violent flinch of pain when his hands back into the glass.
His breath is loud.
He doesn't cry tears. Instead, he leans into the ground and shakes.
The scent is still there.
He is still there... except he isn't at all.
... His breath is choking.
Panic is overwhelming, and he can do little except take gasping breaths and hold himself, though his hands are now embedded with little glass pieces and their tight grip on his arms only leads to breaking his skin further.
His palms turn red.
His breath is deafening.
More scrambling, this time with his back pressed forcefully against the wall and paranoid glances to all corners of the room, as though his nightmares will manifest before him.
His breathing is out of control.
The metal band on his finger glosses with blood.
He stares at it with disconnection. He finds the irony in symbolism, and he does not appreciate it.
His arms run with dark liquid.
His arms run with dark liquid.
Shadows push along the walls, taunting. When he closes his eyes and ducks his head, he hears voices and beautiful sounds that are nothing less than plain, but oh so horrific torture.
"I love you so much Adam."
"Yes, you fucking nerd, I do."
"It... hurts."
"I can't."
"I can't win."
"I can't... do this."
"Don't let them win, Adam!"
"I... lost. I'm..."
"I'm so sorry."
The tears don't flow.
Deep breaths. Deep breaths. Deep breaths.
Breaths. Breathe. Choke.
Pushing up from the floor, determined standing.
The drawer opens.
A click.
A terrible bang.
A heavy thud.
And at last, silence.
YOU ARE READING
Chase's Book of YT One-Shots
FanfictionThere's about a thousand of these lying around on WattPad. Let me know if you have a prompt or a request! For now, I'll just upload whatever I happen to write. This book is specifically for YT oneshots; another one-shot book may be appearing in the...
