John...?

Part 3

I'm wandering on the street.. I'm lonely. I'm making sure I'm lonely. I want to be lonely..

But i don't want to be lonely.

"AGGR!" I make noise. It's complicated! I'm complicated... 

I hate to be complicated..

I hate myself..

I check my pockets for a key. I need to get inside. Bury myself in the pillow and wait till i sleep..

I find the key and I open the door.. the first thing I smell is dead. Rotting dead.. I groan.. more facts I'm horrible.. when is the police even taking me away?

I look at the walls and I see blood. hands.. face.. splatters.. It's been me.. my hands hurting that of my dearest family..

I avoid the living room.. knowing there is hell. I walk.. straight to the kitchen.. I grab a knife.. and look at it.. old blood is still on it..

Should I call the police? Tell them it's been me?

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..

..

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No.. I can't do it yet.. I need to punish myself more.. I NEED TO PUNISH MYSELF MORE..

more guilt.. more hate.. more.. more.. more................ whatever is negative, I will it feel. I should it feel.

I look at the sharp knife I'm holding. I hear the sounds of the happenings what I've been doing with it.. almost a week ago..

I heard her calling in pain.. screaming in pain. "John.. Please John..." she gasped.. she was weak.. she was hurt.. 

I couldn't cope it.. I couldn't stop the anger... I don't have control.

Control doesn't exist..

never exist..

ever..

The knife.. shines in the lovely daylight. I let my fingers run on it... 

The knife cuts in my fingers.. but I don't mind. I feel the blood streaming.. Mental.. mental it hurts me more then thousands stabs of knives.. more then bullets.. More then anything...

My fingers can barely feel.. There is a tiny shake and a warm feel of blood.. no pain.. no pain..

I can't feel the pain..

I can't..