CAN YOU HEAR ME?

(He sits in a dark room, blood still drying on his hands. His eyes don't blink. His mouth barely moves. But his voice... it's laced with a sorrow so sharp it could slice bone.)

> "It didn't happen all at once.

The sadness... it came like rot. Quiet. Patient. Sweet at first.
Like the way a dead body still looks peaceful before the maggots come.

I didn't scream when she left. I didn't beg. I just stood still and felt something inside me sink. Like an anchor. Like a corpse thrown in water.

People think sadness means tears. That's a lie.
Real sadness is dry. It's when your soul peels away from your skin and hides in some corner of your body you can't reach.
And all you can do is wait...

I waited. Days. Weeks.
Nothing came back. No light. No voice.
Just me.

Just the silence.

I started forgetting the sound of her laugh.
And I hated that. I hated that more than the voices in my head.

So I started... making new sounds.

Screams. Cries. Pleas.

And for the first time, the silence broke.
For the first time, I felt alive.

I'm not the victim anymore.
I'm the wound.
I'm the part of pain that bites back.

And now, I don't want her back.
I want her to feel the hole she left inside me.
I want her to crawl into it and never come out."