He stood in the kitchen, his back facing the locked door. The lights were off, and the moonlight sipping through the blinds was the only thing providing partial illumination to his surroundings. His track through the kitchen started with him taking off his shirt and he walked into the hallway while hopping on one foot, taking off his pants, and he got to the shower bare.

He turned on the water.

He stood there, under the water, letting it drench him with its hotness. He had altered the mix so that the water was hotter than usual. So not only did the water sting his skin, but it also had the benefit of soothing his tense muscles.

Throughout everything that happened the last two days he figured that it could've been worse. It could have been party after party in the township, even though his life was in shambles.

It still hurt though, to be faced with the realization of how insignificant to others his death was. He was nothing special, and that got clearer to him with each passing day. He had not expected the world to stop just because he was going to die, but he did not expect everything to be so uncaring towards his situation. It was unfair.

He finally stepped out of the shower and he draped a towel around his waist. It may have been a bleak day, but he was glad to be rid of its sweat, as he went to get dressed.

Once he was dressed, he plopped his back on the bed and sighed.

He lay there in silence, unmoving. He felt exhausted all of a sudden, his body reminding him that a weight akin to that of the world was still on his shoulders. He was weak. He was powerless.

He felt something trickle at the sides of his eyes. Surprised, he brought his right hand up and touched his face.

Wetness, there was no mistake about it.

The substance was tears.

He was crying.

He wanted to scream at the top of his lungs, but his teeth clenched instead, intent on swallowing the pain down.

It was then that his stomach thought it was the perfect time to grumble in cry for food. Rightly so, he had not eaten since breakfast that day.

He pulled himself up from his bed rather sluggishly, staggering a few steps towards the door before he grabbed the door handle and leaned against the wall for balance. The moment of dizziness passed after a few seconds, then he pulled open the door.

He sauntered through the darkness and turned on the light when he got to the kitchen. Opening the fridge, he pulled out a pot and set it on the table. He grabbed a bowl from the cupboard and for himself, then he sat down and slowly started to eat.

As much as most people probably would not have eaten at a time like that, Khwezi knew that it would be illogical to starve himself. Even if he was dying, it did not mean that he had to subject himself to torture, all in the name of stress.

Which was why when he finished his first serving of food, he went for a second serving.

He set the bowl on the table when he was done and sighed. The food did not taste as good as he remembered it. The taste was there, but something was missing.

Two people flashed in his mind making his heart clench uncomfortably. He was used to eating alone, but he did not like it. Eating with Linda and Amanda though, it seemed to make all the difference. It felt warm when he was with them. It beckoned him to eat his food with passion and glee.

But when he was alone, he only ate because he wanted to survive.

"?"

There it was again. His heart was beating fast as the realisation crossed his mind the umpteenth time that day.

I am alone.

In that moment of vulnerability, the ear-splittling mute had the sharpest fangs, and it did not hesitate to take a large, chunky, bite off his sanity.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

He felt his bile rise and he clasped his hands over mouth. He could feel the chime collide with his clenched teeth. One mistake, and the food would come back out where it came.

He swallowed once, then swallowed again, and sighed out afterwards. He leaned back on the chair and stared upwards for no reason. He did not even mind the aftertaste of vomit that was left in his mouth.

Back here again? A voice rung in his head.

It was familiar too. It was the voice that tormented him ever since he discovered the digit on his wrist.

"Yeah, where else would I be?" replied Khwezi.

Why do you even bother? it asked, sounding exasperated.

"Because I want them to know how I feel." His voice was monotone, devoid of emotion.

But they don't understand.

"Yes, but it would be arrogant of me to think that no one would ever understand." He could feel the darkness linger around him.

Humans will never understand.

"Then I'll keep trying until I meet a monster who is just like me. If my last three days end without me finding them, that's okay too." He felt a tingle on his body as the darkness got closer.

If you stopped, you wouldn't hurt.

"Yes, but I'd also be unhappy." The darkness trailed a cold finger on his chest.

You're still unhappy.

"Yes, but I don't want to die sad. Even if I get that moment of happiness in my dying moments, it will be enough." The chocolate in his eyes seemed to dull into an almost grey.

What if you die unhappy?

"At least I would die with a fighting soul rather than an already dead one." A dry laugh escaped his parted lips. "There's also beauty in the death of a tortured soul, ya know?"

The darkness seemed to ignore his reply. You're alone right now.

"Yes." He felt the tender touch of a finger on his chin.

Let's find out how beautiful your soul is.

The shadow pulled him up gently and engulfing him in its embrace.

It felt cold but he did not care much: it was familiar territory after all. He could not breathe but he still held a smile on his face. The feeling of asphyxiation was something he grew accustomed to ever since a number appeared on his wrist, so he was not going to act panicked now. The cold, the emptiness, the suffocation, and the darkness, they were home. He was home.

"Even if it's Hell, it's still my home." He sunk deeper into the pit of darkness. He could feel his chest tighten which brought an odd sense of calm to his mind. Familiarity, that is what mattered.

It's going to be fine, The darkness guided his hand to the drawer where he pulled out a knife. once you die, The knife was guided over his wrist. it won't hurt anymore.

"You're right." He placed the knife on his wrist.

He could feel his artery pulsate with anticipation.

Just one slice.

Just one slice and it would be all over.

It won't hurt anymore.

The pain, the loneliness, the suffering, and the emptiness, it would be all over. He wanted all of it to be over.

Just a bit, and you'll be free.

The knife dug deeper into his skin. It was not cut yet, but it would be cut easily if he made the motion.

Yes. The darkness smiled with glee, Set yourself free.

"We never lose." Linda's voice came.

Khwezi's eyes widened when he saw the familiar hand that held him back from slicing his wrist open.

Another hand appeared.

"He's right, we never lose." Amanda's voice followed.

And that was all Khwezi needed.

"It's tempting, but if I kill myself tonight," He took in a deep breath and let out a sigh before he continued. "A year would still be 365 and 1/4 days, an hour will still be sixty minutes and a week will still have seven days," He removed the knife and placed it back in the drawer.

What the hell do you think you're doing?! The darkness bellowed.

"The sun would still rise, and the stars would still appear. The world will carry on like I never even existed. Even now, it carries on like I don't matter." He stepped back to his chair and sat down.

The cloud of darkness was still there, fighting for dominance. It refused to lose.

Khwezi clutched his head, his fingers digging into his hair and pressing hard on his head.

"I refuse to die more of a victim of this sometimes cruel, and sometimes kind world, especially when I have two good friends who would be devastated if I took my own life."

Death is inevitable, boy. The darkness spat, You are just prolonging your own suffering.

"I'm sorry, okay?" His fingers dug deeper into his head and pressed harder on his head. "I know you don't want to be here. You want to be free more than me, only difference is that you don't have a choice in the matter. I know you're also suffering, and I'm sorry about that, but I need you to rest for now." He could feel the cloudiness start to recede.

This isn't over. The darkness refused to leave without anything to say.

"I know it isn't." He finally let go of his head and he slumped back on the seat. "Until we meet again buddy." A rueful smile warped itself on his face as he sighed.

He had trouble keeping his eyelids open all of a sudden. It had been a stressful day, and it seemed that the fatigue had finally caught up with him.

I guess I'll go to sleep.

His eyes drifted to a close, Khwezi falling asleep on the chair.

His arms dangled at the side and his feet were splayed out on the floor. His head lay in an awkward position which forced his neck to be bent in an awkward position as well. The way he was sleeping would be uncomfortable to anyone who could see it.

So why was he smiling? Why did he have such a big smile on his face? Why did the edges of the curvature of his mouth depict such a strong sense of happiness and satisfaction?

He was smiling because he won.