Blake passively gazed around his setting. He looked back at his computer screen sadly.
"Might as well drown my sorrows in the bodies of my enemies..." He muttered to himself. With a sigh he picked up his controller once more. The light of the computer screen came shining out and lit his room with a dull gleam. He continued playing until he felt a tickle on his cheek. He raised his hand to brush it, and was astonished to find a tear.
"No," He whispered to himself, "I'm not that visible."
He didn't know what to do. The tears were coming faster and faster. He dropped the controller and began rubbing aggressively at his eyes. Soon his chest was hitching with deep sobs. His breath came in short shallow gasps.
"It doesn't even matter." He thought.
Blake stood violently. His chair tumbled to the floor with a blatant crash. He disregarded it and flew across his small room. The faint sound of gunfire reached him from his speakers. It reminded him of another when. He'd been happy once. He hadn't randomly found tears in his eyes. There had been a time when he didn't vomit spontaneously. There had been a time when his dreams hadn't been haunted by the events of that day.
He needed to know. He lurched down the stairs slowly, almost reluctantly.
"This isn't a good idea!" his mind screamed at him. He tried to turn back, but found he couldn't.
It was as though some force was driving him to this. He found himself on the bottom stair. He gazed around him. The shadows of night were invading. He felt as though they were closing upon him. Soon he would be overwhelmed, and he would no longer be the way he was. He would be empty, and a nothing.
This thought surprised Blake. He slowly began to ponder it.
He explored within him, and found he contained no happiness. No one cared for him. He was a nobody, and could never make a difference. That thought scared him. He made a decision right then.
Blake slowly climbed back up the stairs and entered the bathroom. He flicked they lights on, and savored the pain that blasted his eyes. He looked at himself in the mirror. He was tall and skinny. He owned short blonde hair, and striking blue eyes. He supposed some would call him handsome. He didn't care about that now.
Slowly, he reached towards the drawer he wanted. He drew it open, hands shaking. He brought out the container and picked one solitary blade. He grinned at it, feeling at ease for the first time since the incident. He shut the drawer, and exited the bathroom.
He strode down the stairs once more. He only had a couple things he needed to do.
Blake walked to the tool cabinet and pulled out a crowbar. He turned around. He looked at all the useless material objects he'd obtained over his life. He trudged across the room towards the second computer he had. He raised the bar over his head and slammed the tool down. He found the crash satisfied him. He whipped around and noticed the vase she had given him. Why he'd kept the bauble he had no clue. He smashed it, and stared at how it exploded into countless shards and pieces. The tears had stopped coming. He stalked around the room, smashing everything in sight. Thinking how he would soon be rid of all this. How he wouldn't have to deal with those fools.
Blake gazed around at the destruction he had brought upon his own home. He was content with it, turned, went to his basement. He jammed the crowbar between the maljoined floorboards and tore them up. He needed to see.
He tore up three boards before he saw what he needed to see. She was still there. The dim light
of the moon coming in from the windows illuminated her pale skin. Her long brown hair still cascaded onto the beautiful face. Her eyes had been blue. Such a beautiful blue. A look from her had been intoxicating.
She was the only one who understood him. She was beautiful and special. Everything he wanted. And she wanted to leave him. The one source of happiness he'd had was going to leave him.
He hadn't allowed it. The slight dent in the temple were he had hit her was barely visible.
He took the razor out of his pocket, kissed her body, and slashed his arms.