Post #2721840 in The Manic Mind of Man, a roleplay on RPG

Snippet #2721840

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#2017-08-17 06:50:33, as written by Vercerigo

~Santa Cruz, California~

Frederick Dredsen squeezed his eyes shut, gasping for breath. He rocked back and forth on his bed, producing a dull squeak that was almost drowned out by the heavy rain that slammed against the side and roof of the tiny rental house that he hadn’t payed his rent on in a month. Fucking loser. His shaking hands clutched the sides of his face as he dragged in breath after breath from between his clenched teeth. The tattooed skull on his right hand appeared to cry as the raindrops on his window cast their transparent shadows on it.
As he readjusted his feet, his left one bumped against an empty beer bottle with a small clink, one of the many that littered the floor of his tiny bedroom.
Lightning suddenly flashed out of the sky with an earsplitting explosive sound, illuminating Frederick’s dark room with a pale light that disappeared just as quickly as it came. Just do it, already. He flinched and curled onto his side, sobbing as the black storm that was his depression swallowed him whole. Again. Oh god, he hated himself so much.
He felt like nothing, Hell, he was nothing. He groaned in his agony and shakily grabbed the long hunting knife that waited for him at his bedside, and stared hungrily into the dull grey sheen of the blade. Slowly, steadily, he placed the sharp end on his arm, paused, at war with himself, and then began to cut long strokes into his arms.

This was the only way for him to cope, the only distraction he ever had. It wasn’t all that bad, he deserved it, anyways. That was the only thing he knew for sure about himself. Fuck you, Frederick. He thought to himself bitterly. As he finished his third cut, another splinter of light split the sky with a earth-shaking shriek. It was almost as if it had electrified Frederick, because as soon as he heard it, the dark sadness in him quickly melted, began to glow red hot, began to simmer with hatred. I hate you. He growled at himself, a low, wild sound that would have terrified himself at any other time. He placed the blade on his arm again and began to cut harder, with longer strokes.

He watched red spill out faster than it ever had, embracing both sides of his arm. The small trails of blood coated and ran over several of his old scars, whitened and blackened with age. He felt like the storm was raging around him, a thick, black, grey, red tornado with him at its very center, from which there was no escape.
No escape.
His head lightened, and he blinked several times, opening his mouth but not inhaling. He felt dizzy. This is it, you bastard. Look what you’ve done. Finally.
He dropped the knife, and looked down at his arm, which was completely coated in thick warm red, which looked almost black in the dull light. It was dripping down onto the floor, where a comfortingly large puddle had already accumulated. He let loose a breathy, wild, hysterical laugh. This is it!
With that, he let himself fall onto his back, completely giving himself up to the storm.

Snippet #2721840

located in Reality, a part of The Manic Mind of Man, one of the many universes on RPG.

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