1121st Night

Maybe he would do it now, His hands wouldn't tremble even if he wanted to.

He slipped a small knife in his pocket a while ago, and even it wasn't enough to bleed everything up.

It wasn't enough to cut through his soul. He almost sighed.

It couldn't bring him the same pleasure it did in the past. He couldn't even find the pretty splotches of red dripping on the bathroom floor pretty--amusing, even.

He gazed up. The lamp hang around his head too brightly it blinded his vision. He wanted to break it,he wanted it to break him.

Standing up with his fist around the knife, he swung it above, it gained its momentum, made a noise as it clashed with the ceiling-- avoiding the lamp-- and fell downwards--towards him.

He didn't flinch when it scraped his cheek.

Hearing it clang he looked down at it.

Even it wasn't sharp enough. Wasn't brave enough.

Soft knocks on the door calmed the noise on the entire apartment flat at 3 o'clock am.

"Dyon?" A weak voice mumbled sleepily on the other side of the door. "Are you okay?

Terribly fine, sarcasm dripped his thoughts.

"I'm fine love," He exchanged the knife for a patch in the medicine vault. "Just the toothpaste,"

Silence made him wait.

"...Just the toothpaste?" She whispered, her voice surprisingly calm.

Putting the patch on the cheek,he opened the door, and softly looked at her, hoping the dark would cover his face.

"Just the toothpaste, love. Now hurry, you have to sleep." He laid with her on the soft mattress and waited till he could hear her soft breathing again.

He would clean the bathroom floor later, he thought.