he was nothing. (Eddsworld)

Six.

His head only started hurting when he sat up. He hissed and held his head, trying to numb the pain with his hands. Tom stood but fell back onto the bed. Maybe that was a sign that he simply shouldn't get up. He should just stay asleep forever.

Don't be selfish, his inner self whispered. Thus, he gets up without stumbling and makes his way to the kitchen. No one is up yet; the clock says 6:50. Am or pm? Tom doesn't know. It doesn't matter anyways.

He reaches into the cupboard and grabs the pills for pain. He shakes out 2 pills. Is that enough? He pours 6 more onto his hand and stares at them. I could eat them. Then I can sleep forever.

Don't be selfish. People care about you.

Tord strolled out around the corner. "Hiya, eyeless." Tom quickly places 6 pills back in the container and pops the two into his mouth.

"You sure that's enough, Tom?" Tord laughs. "More might get rid of all of your pain."

"Yeah..." Tom mumbles, staring at the jar for a moment more. It would get rid of his pain. It would make him nothing again, forever. It might make him happy. Those pills could fill the empty space within him.

I thought you wanted to be sad. Wasn't it... addictive? That voice whispered. The voice made its way to his lips, "Hypocrite."

"What did you call me?" Tord spat, holding Tom by his collar. Tom paused, registering the situation. "Well, Jehovah's?" Tord shook Tom slightly.

"I wasn't talking to you." Tom scoffed, pushing Tord away. Tord shoved him and Tom stumbled on his feet and fell. He hit the floor with a thud. Pain shot up his spine; he must have landed on his tail bone.

"Oh really? Then who were you talking to?" He yells, towering over Tom. He kicked Tom's side, "Huh, Thomas?"

"I was talking to myself!" Tom yells, wincing in the pain. He stands to the best of his ability, using the table as support.

"Maybe you should eat the whole bottle of pills. No one will miss you." Tom heard no objection. No voices told him not to. No voices told him he was loved. Not even the voice that said he was selfish for dying. That voice joined Tord's side.

Tom only heard himself say Yeah, in his head. Kill yourself.

The phrase "Kill yourself" was strange to him. It sounded like something a teenager would say in order to win some argument. But, yet again, Tom is not a child! He's a grown man being told to kill himself. People should be able to push past being told to kill themselves but for Tom it hurt. The pit in his stomach grows slightly, making him feel so much more empty.

Tom's sad, make tears.

"You crying, Thomas? Pfft, you fucking crybaby." Tord remarks. Hot hatred fills the pit in Tom's stomach.

"Fuck off!" Tom shouted.

Edd groggily walked in, "Are you guys seriously fighting this early in the morning?" He groans.

"He started it!" Tord scoffs, nudging me away and walking to the pantry.

"They hEll? No I did not!" Tom's voice cracked.

"Tom..." Edd sighed, rubbing his temples.

"I actually didn't fucking start it! Why can't you believe me!?" The pit in Tom grew slowly yet steadily, threatening to swallow him whole.

"It would be helpful if you weren't such... such a mess, Tom." Edd said. Another word to add to the thousands that describe Tom: mess. The word mess usually describes something cluttered, chaotic, troubled. All things describe Tom.

Edd thinks Tom is a mess. A mess whom he has to clean up? Does Edd think he can make Tom better? Well Tom doesn't need help. He doesn't even want it anymore. A few days ago his subconscious was begging others to help him but now it has stopped. It's on Tord's side now.

If Edd thinks Tom is a mess, he must think others things too, right? He must think that Tom is stupid for not cleaning up his act. He thinks Tom is an annoying skin sack of bones, blood and muscle just lazing away. He thinks he's a lazy asshole who can't do anything right. He thinks he's an eyeless freak who deserves nothing except death!

In reality, Edd thinks none of this. But Tom has fallen too far into that cursed pit in himself that he's lost hope.

Edd has joined Tord's side.