Of All The Things
Of all the things he'd ever thought he'd see, he could honestly say this wasn't one of them. As he walked through the door he half believed it was just a nightmare that he'd wake up from in a minute but as he dropped down onto his knees next to the body of his once best friend he knew this was a living nightmare.
He lay there, dressed how he always had been, the jeans he could never hold up along with his favorite t-shirt clung to his body. His hair was damp and flat to his head, some of it starting to dry and as it did it began to retreat into it's natural curls. The deep brown eyes he'd always found a friend in were closed in a way that would betray him as just sleeping, if it wasn't for the fact he lay on the cold wooden floor of his room, surrounded by a pool of blood.
The source of this blood he found to be the two deep gashes, one to each wrist. As he looked closer at his friend he saw that those weren't the only damage done. All up the insides of each lower arm ran a myriad of scars, some old and fading, others bright red and angry, a few still tinged by dried blood. All around him pooled the once full of energy life, the deep red soaking into the floorboards darkening them as his body had paled.
Hopelessly reaching out. his fingers found the truth he wanted to escape, his friend was ice to the touch and there was no steady pulsing when fingers grazed his neck. The shock was slowly letting in the reality of what had happened into his unwilling mind. His best friend was dead; his beast friend had killed himself.
He pulled himself back up to be stood, and stared down at the body, suddenly feeling the urge to be sick. He fled from the room and out of the house, not stopping until he'd reached the next street where he stopped, clutching to a wall.
Slowly, he slid down the wall, to sit on the cold pavement, his knees up by his chest and his head in his hands. He vaguely though the should call someone, but had no idea who. He had no clue what to do, he'd never been the greatest with practicalities, that was always where he took over. That thought just brought on the inevitable, tears slowly leaking out before becoming a steady stream down his face and then accumulating into sobs that shook his body.
He let his hysteretic take over, not knowing what else he could do and while his crying continued he could concentrate on that and not why he was crying. He never wanted to think about that again although he knew that the site he'd found earlier would haunt him for the rest of his life.
He'd only one round to see how his friend was doing, wanting to catch up after not seeing each other for a couple of months. He'd been busy lately, never finding the time to just drop by and now he had he almost wished he hadn't. The last time he'd seen him he'd been fine, cheerful and energetic as always and they'd had phone conversations in the last months, nothing had appeared to be wrong with him. It didn't make sense in his hysterical mind; it just didn't seem possible that this could ever happen, not to him.
Back in the room the computer remained on, it's screen black from lack of use but the power still flooding into it, shown by the little flashing green light. It didn't care that its owner was lying in a pool of their own blood and it didn't know that its message was just that little bit too late.
"You have e-mail" it announced triumphantly to the silent room.
Finally, the thing he'd been waiting for was there, only now it was too late and the damage couldn't be repaired.