(CAUTION: Extreme Trigger Warning.)

"Why do I feel... So empty?"

"Because child... You're truly alone now."

Chapter 7 - Past:

These people. All of these people have died in such horrid ways- the nature of the deaths varying in general. But my body refused to act as if I cared. I couldn't feel anything here. My face was blank and I didn't want to smile or frown, despite the fact I knew I could. It felt like something was weighing me down, I just don't understand why. It must be something personal.

I approached the next set of people, the twelfth set to be exact. After this, I have 3 more lifetimes to intrude on. The people looked normal, the person that has my eyes looking more like me. A lot more like me. I stopped in front of the pair, and neither looked hurt, neither looked like they'd died. Maybe an illness...? I waited, eyes skimming over them both, until eventually, my guy outstretched his hand, as if for a handshake. I took it, and was teleported to the viewing area. What? Everything was nearly caught up to the times I remember, everything getting there and everything advancing by now.

My guys name was Markus and the other guys name was Jake. They were best friends, always had been. Jake had a girlfriend. She was beautiful, her name was Donna. Markus was utterly jealous, and would've told Jake about liking him for the longest time, but... He didn't want to ruin what little happiness Jake had for his own selfishness. Jake and Markus had lots of friends. Parties were thrown by their friends quite often as well, though they mostly stayed at home watching TV, or just hanging out together. Whatever Jake wanted to do, Markus was right at his side, like a sidekick in a way. Whatever Donna wanted to do, Jake wanted to do.

So they were, in a way, the three musketeers most of the time. Unfortunately for Markus, whenever Donna was in the picture, he became the third wheel. He didn't mind it that much, it just stung. Like the cuts along his inner thighs and wrists. He blamed himself for being so weak. And every day, it was slowly getting harder and harder. He used to go nearly a full 3 months, clean. Now, it's hard to go 3 days. And all because of Donna.

This lifetime was really getting to me; my stomach was turning, as I didn't feel alright. Something personal. Swallowing the lump in my throat, my face remained blank and straight as I continued to watch.

One day after the other, Markus was slowly becoming more and more of a third wheel, to the point where he could be right next to either of them and not be acknowledged at all, as if he were a ghost. That's how he was beginning to feel as well. He felt invisible, like no one cared for him anymore. So, every chance he got, he'd let the feelings of loneliness and abandonment flow away with the iron of his blood and the salt of his tears, the shaky breaths and the quiet sobs. Because ever since high school, he'd known only one way to make the pain disappear. Because in high school he was bullied terribly- in high school, he loved Jake. But Jake always had a girlfriend, and whenever he was dumped it was like girls were lined up, ready to be chosen. Because Jake was that kind of guy and no matter how much Markus tried, he knew he'd never be able to join that line. So in a way, it was always Jake. Markus only knew what had been embedded in his mind, and that was this: Would you rather deal with a little cut or physical abuse? Would you rather deal with a simple, quick pinch, or excruciating emotional drama? It was as simple as that.

One day, when the 3 decided to see one of the newer movies coming out in theaters, Jake left Donna and Markus alone. Just 5 minutes. That's all it took to break him. Once Jake was gone, Donna turned to Markus and glared, a threatening growl escaping her lips as Markus took a step away, shocked.

"I don't know who the hell you think you are- but this was supposed to be our date- you were never in the picture!" Donna quietly whispered. "Are you just so desperate for attention that you have to get between us all the fucking time? Well news flash- it's getting old and we're both getting fucking sick and tired of it. Make up an excuse and beat it." Donna ordered, leaning against the wall and not looking Markus in the eye. Markus just stood there, shocked and unable to move. Had Jake really hated his presence so much? Markus hadn't noticed. Mainly because it was a lie- Jake adored Markus' presence. Jake couldn't remember a time when he was without it! But Markus was too shocked from Donna's outburst to realize that, seeing as Donna is a sweet, caring, loving person. She only snaps when she means something. Or when she thinks she knows what's best for everyone.

So, tears streaming his face, Markus turned and ran, not caring who saw him or where he went- he just wanted to get away from Donna- no, from them. He had been so caught up in what they always did together that he hadn't realized it was causing the one he loved most pain. Pain that wasn't real. It was storming, Markus tugging his jacket on tighter and just swiftly walking down the sidewalk, trying not to sob. He didn't want to cry over something that could so easily be fixed with a simple slice. His home was somewhat far away, but he didn't care, just kept walking and tried to be quick about it.

But, considering how used to Jake's presence and guidance he was, Markus didn't know the streets like the back of his hand, getting lost. It didn't help his mood and he did start to quietly sob. Without Jake, he didn't know what to do. He felt he'd simply lost his best friend, lost a part of his life. Jake acted like he didn't care. And Donna did say Jake was tired of him always there. Markus bumped into a young woman, apologizing quickly. But before she could walk away, he stopped her and asked for directions. After receiving them, he turned around and started running. He wasn't too far away; he just took a wrong turn a little ways back. After correcting his mistake, he continued to briskly walk through the hardly see through storm, drenched and shaking. He sneezed, most likely coming down with a cold. He didn't care anymore.

Scrambling to pull his keys from his pockets, Markus unlocked his front door, going inside and slamming the door shut again, breaking down both mentally and physically at this point. He didn't bother removing his wet clothing, just stumbled into the kitchen and caught himself on the counter, water dripping in small puddles on the floor. His vision landed on a small knife, one for cutting up fruits and vegetables. He picked it up, stripped of his jacket and rolled up his sleeves, revealing all the other scars to the dim, flickering light of his kitchen.

Once for Donna. Once for fucking everything up. Again for his life, which had been thrown away at this point. And deeply for Jake. Again, for Jake. Jake, Jake- over and over again, for Jake! Because Markus didn't want to forget Jake. And lastly, 5 more times for the pleasure of it all. Shakily breathing, Markus' arm stretched out and laying flat on the marble counter, Markus left the bloody knife next to the medium sized, still growing pool of blood forming from his arm. He'd cut too deeply and was bleeding badly, but he didn't care. No, it didn't matter to him anymore. Because the searing pain in his arm would mask the pain of his shattering heart. But, it wasn't enough. No, it would never be enough anymore.

Markus shifted his blurry vision to the fridge. He stumbled over, opening the fridge door as he left a bloody handprint on the handle, another thick, red pool forming as the iron-tasting substance dripped rapidly from his elbow, sounding like the pattering footsteps of the rain above. Pulling out a large bottle of beer and slamming the fridge door shut, Markus leaned his back against the nearby wall, gulping lots of the horrid liquid down, blood still painting his black and white tiled floor. No matter how much he drank, it didn't help him to forget and the blood never stopped flowing, causing his body to feel weak and his skin to get pale quickly. Markus' eyes landed on a bottle of Tylenol. Without thinking, Markus picked it up and opened the bottle, not crying anymore and only one thought running through his head.

Jake doesn't need me anymore. He doesn't want me. He hates me. So why wait for him?

One pill for Donna. One for Ashley. One for Brittney. One for each and every one of Jake's girlfriends. That already totally 12 pills. 5 more for Jake. 2 for fucking up over and over again. And lastly, 1 for the headache Markus had all day that day. 20 pills. Markus took the bottle of beer shakily in his hand, tossing the still open Tylenol onto the counter as they spilled everywhere, scampering around the floor and countertop. As he stumbled from the room, managing to get upstairs as a trail of blood was left in his wake; Markus grabbed a piece of paper and wrote down a note. He placed the note on his bedside table, finishing off the beer and placing it on the bedside table as well, then falling onto the bed and lying there as he drifted asleep. The 20 pills, 16 cuts, half of which were too deep, and 22 ounces of beer all worked their magic, each playing a role in slowly killing him. The cuts allowed his blood to drain, staining the bed sheets crimson as Markus' body became purely white in a matter of hours. The pills will cause liver damage, severe liver damage. It's already causing liver damage from the overdose alone, but considering he's been drinking alcohol, it's basically like telling his body its use was no longer needed. And that's exactly what he wanted.

The next day, Jake arrived, knocking on the door, a sad look on his face. He broke up with Donna. She'd become too clingy for him, and he just didn't like the fact she was keeping all of his time off of Markus. She'd told him exactly what she did and Jake knew he needed to see Markus. He knocked again. Still, no answer, despite the fact that Markus was always home at 6am, no matter the day or event. Jake knocked again, louder this time. Nothing. He stepped back, pulling a spare key from his pocket and unlocking the door, only to find it was already unlocked. He went inside, instantly spotting the trail of blood. He wasn't sure whether it came from upstairs or from the kitchen, so slowly letting his jacket slip from his hand, he walked to the kitchen.

He went pale, eyes wide in shock and fear as he just stood at the mouth of the archway. His throat was closed, and all he could think about was why? Why was there blood everywhere- why were pills scattered all over the place? He turned and ran upstairs. Throwing Markus' bedroom door open, he was instantly at the pale boy's side, checking each and every one of his pulses as he began to cry. Why? Jake sat there; sobbing as he cradled the thin, white boy in his arms, his blood having stopped it's continuous flow and his light mocha colored hair seeming dull and flat. Jake shifted his blurry vision to the beer bottle. He saw the paper and shakily picked it up, reading it.

I doubt you're reading this Jake. I doubt you care, but I'm sorry.

That's all he managed to write before he passed out and closed his eyes forever. Jake held Markus tighter, sobbing harder now as he didn't want to move. But when he did finally move, it was to grab one of the beers from the fridge and gather the remaining pills. To then proceed to lie down in the bloody, soaked sheets and cradle the cold, icy body of his best friend until death did them part.

I soon found myself with nothing more to watch, being brought back to the main area as I softly closed my eyes, my stomach finally managing to settle as I swallowed the lump in my throat, then proceeded on to the thirteenth set of people. Hmn...