Crazy

Sorrow

(warning, AGNST AHEAD, cutting, evil thoughts, alcoholism, etc.)

Tom had locked himself in his apartment.  Edd and Matt had tried everything, from simply knocking on the for, kicking it, taking their key and just going in, which failed because Tom grabbed the key and pushed them back out, to even trying to pick the lock, and trying to lure him out with food.  No matter what they did, all they got, was a, 'Go away.', if they were lucky.

Edd and Matt managed to get a lock smith to make a mold, and fashion a key, so that they could get in if they hadn't heard from Tom, just to check on him, or if they heard any loud noises.  Which there weren't any.  So they let him be.

~In Tom's apartment~

Tom sat on his bed, his arms dripping blood down onto the ground from long, thin cuts on the back of his wrists.  A razor blade sat in one of his hands, shiny and sharp, stained with red.  He sniffed, tears still running down his face, Tommee Bear sitting beside him, as if to comfort him.

Tom stood up, tossing the blade onto his desk, where it landed and slid, clinking into the lamp by his bedside.  He slouched into the bathroom, the mirror staring at him when he looked at it.  He bent down, looking under the sink for bandages.  Finding some, he stood back up, sitting on the toilet and carefully wrapping up his arm, discarding the previous wrappings into the trash.  Blood stained the white fabric, and he stood up, walking into the kitchen and grabbing a bottle of Smirnoff.  Being the respectable person he is, he had the dignity to at least pick up the many bottles off the floor, and toss the bag out of his second story window, and into the trash bin below. 

Tom sat down on the bed again, drunk already, as he had already chugged half the bottle.  He set it down, tears peeking the corners of his black eyes.  He hugged Tommee Bear close, sniffling.  If he just cut a little lowered on his wrists, this would all be over.  Or at least, that's what the voices said.

'They don't love you.'

'They hate you.'

'You're a murderer.'

Those weren't even the bad ones.

Tom soon fell asleep, his arm hanging off the side of the bed, Tommee clutched to his chest as if he were glued there.  His chest rose and fell in steady rhythm, his eyes closed.  In peace he finally looked peaceful.

~In Edd's apartment~

It was agreed that Edd would keep the key, seeing as Matt would lose it amongst the mountains of junk Matt called, 'collectables'.  He was asleep, the key on his bedside table, sprawled across the bed as if he was trying to be a part of it.  A stream of light entered the room from the hallway, landing on his drooling face. 

A dark shape stopped in the doorway, walking towards the unsuspecting cartoonist silently.  He placed a damp cloth upon his face, the man jolting awake momentarily, only to fall right back asleep.

~In Matt's shrine- I mean apartment~

Matt was curled up gracefully on his bed, his hair somehow perfect, even in sleep.  The door opened quietly, only a single squeak to be heard.  Matt blinked his eyes open, looking towards it.

"Hello?  Are you a ghost?", he asked to the door.

There was no response, so he shrugged and went back to sleep, snoring softly.  A man with gorgeous eyebrows walked into the room, a scar running down one eye, the pupil a pale brown, blind.  He placed a cloth onto Matt's face, and Matt sat up.

"I knew there was a ghost!"

In panic the man punched him in the back of the head, knocking him out.

~Now back to...Tom sleeping!  Like the drunk bastard he is!~

The two men sneaked into the apartment, and into the bedroom, frowning at the spots of blood on the floor.  They looked to the bed, where a distressed Tom was whimpering in his sleep.  He was holding on to Tommee for dear life, tears streaming down his face.  The two looked at each other, the blind one shrugging, having no idea what to do.

The taller sighed and grabbed a cloth, dampening it with chloroform, and sitting down on the bed, shaking the man awake.  He jolted up, staring at them for a second, before the man sitting next to him pinned him to the bed, pressing the cloth to his face.  Tom looked at them in fear, then went limp, his hold on Tommee failing, the plush falling to the floor.

"Patryk."

"Yes Paul?"

"What the fuck Patryk."

"I don't know Paul."

They carried the unconscious man downstairs and into a white van, tying him up and setting him down next to the other two they had kidnapped.  They hopped into the front, sharing a quick kiss.

"Pat."

The taller man looked over, "Yes Paul?"

"Why does Red Leader want these guys so badly?  You're better at reading people than me.", Paul said, starting the car.

Patryk looked back through the window, "I think he likes depressed pineapple, I forget his name, and the other two are very important."

"Depressed pineapple...God.  That poor bastard needs help.  Both of them.  Let's hope they can give it to each other.", Paul shook his head.

Patryk nodded in agreement, looking out the window, "I can see why Red Leader liked it here, it's really quite beautiful."

Paul smiled, watching Patryk watch the scenery go by.  God he was such a lovestruck idiot.

(See?  Told you there'd be Paultryk.  Anywho, without further ado, I got some writing to do.  BUH BYE!  -markiplier themesong plays-)