la douleur exquise

My ability to be creative has let me down. You guys are still pretty active around here, but I'm afraid I cannot say the same thing about myself. I've been waiting for my mind to come up with a masterpiece, but that plan didn't really work out the way I hoped it would. So, to feed your brains with something... Here's some nebulous fiction! (: (Yes, I swear it is)
Why? Because.


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And behind closed doors, the mask comes off.


His weary hands still trembling from it all, he stares at the coloured silhouettes and other hallucinations slowly fading away. His respiration scarcely improved, though he doesn't feel as bloodthirsty as he did a short while ago. He had no choice but to release it, it was his only way out. Finally, he's able to come to his senses, he can stop clenching his hands now, the job is done. As the side effects wear off, he reaches out to 'the real stuff'. What the hell, danger and pain never stopped him before. Come on, reach up high into space, numb me, make my day.


He used to be such a happy guy. An example to everyone, one who would never hurt anyone deliberately. Never did he cause trouble. Affectionate, but his infatuated love was never mutual. A victim of his own foolish heart he was. Nobody cared enough to listen, if he even bothered to share at all. He wanted people to truly listen  to him, instead of just waiting for their turn to speak.

His self destruction was working though, because physical pain is visible to the outside world. The injuries on his paper-thin skin, the wounds on his wrists from carving that one word over and over again, deep into his flesh. And a little higher, the scars of needles mark his past. People never noticed him, but he changed that for good. Never will they look down on him again, because these wounds cannot be ignored. They may see him now, one day too late.

Staring at his feet, he bursts into hysterical shouting and laughter. Filling the room with nothing but empty shells which used to belong to his once unaffected soul. But that's all in the past now. His thoughts strayed away, far away from reality. Comatose. Provoked by drugs and torture. But he's persistent, his goal is his antidote. Nothing will stop him now. Someone's going to suffer, someone needs to make the sacrifice, anyone but him this time.

A terrified voice, echoes through the house.
Blood splatters on the walls, 
and one final scream ends the horrible sound.