The Shrinking Sun

2.

-Commit suicide.. Or commit a murder?

The knife felt comfortable on his hand. It was the same knife he used to incise himself with.
It was fun to see flesh being cut. He wasn't stupid so he never took it so far that blood would've started bleeding from his wounds.
  He couldn't really feel it so. It didn't matter.

Suddenly he turned left. A woman was walking torwards him. Well, she was actually following the road and he just happened to be sitting next to it. In front if the hospital.. where his best friend..
 -..Died.. He said quietly. More tears. They tasted salty.
 -Oh.. So I can at lest still taste things.
Good to know before you lose your sense completely.

He laughed. Suddebly a horrible bloodlust filled his mind. His eyes turned completely black and he needed salvation. What was fun? Amusing? Killing? Maybe?

-W-wha! The woman screamed when he jumped towards her with his knife and stabbed it into her neck from behind.
  -Silent was the voice of dying. Still all I can hear is screaming~ he sang smiling as he pulled the knife out of her bloody neck.
  The woman was on the ground, and he was standing in front of her holding onto his knife.
 -I lied. I hear nothing.. That's a lie too. Because the things I hear are no longer anyones words. He though it was quite funny.

He looked down on his hands.
 -This color..
It was a beautiful red. Fast he looked around him. Everything was black and white and he hadn't even realised.
 -How amusing.. He laughed with a cracking voice. There was no light in his eyes anymore.

And without light..

There are no colors.

...

What now? He had stabbed his biggest wound and killed his first person.
  -The suicide? He could still taste the salt.
Tears? More? Do they never end..
He looked horrible. His face looked to sad and was literally crying for help. And the worst part..He was smiling. He felt absolutely nothing. But he felt horrible. Not because he just committed a murder. Because his anxiety was drowning him, yet for a second he was excited.

He straightened the knife. The blade was pointed towards his chest. To his heart actually.
  His hand was shaking..

-Now!!!

...

-ARRGHHHHHH!! He shouted and collapsed. He sat next to the woman. Crying.. No, laughing.. No.. He can't tell.
  It's too awful. When ever he'd point the knife towards himself, he'd remeber his dead friend.
"Destruction is worse when it begins from inside.."
He laughed.

The police reached the woman when he was already home. After closing the door he washed his hands.
 -It doesn't come off..
IT DOESN'T COME OFF...

After 15 minutes of cleaning his hand he gave up. He couldn't breathe. Tomorrow he'd go to the hospital and poison himself. That'd be an easy death.
 -Auch.. He tried to do a slight cut to his arm.. But it started bleeding. There was no going back..

At night he decided to only do things he finds fun or amusing.  Money really wasn't necessary. He'd burn it if he'd have it. But he was fired two months ago.
  "HURT? What do you mean, does it hurt?"

Her voice again.. No.. Maybe?
 "THIS is more painful! That word does not apply to what I'm feeling right now! ...Yeah.
There are no words no describe anxiety. Depression. His mental illness had gotten really bad. Yet he was calm.

Probably because he couldn't feel it. The rising darkness inside him.