The cold, sharp breeze of the snowy night they were in was surrounding Wilbur’s already numb body. Though it was not enough to make him shiver, as he had learned to keep the brutal soul of winter away from the holes in the wall he had built around his core.
Standing at the very edge of their holy mansion’s rooftop with a half-full glass of wine in his hand, young man had never felt more al-one(ive) in the lifetime he can recall vividly. He had a blood-curdling memory with handful of demons and whispers and terrifying voices wrapped around it. It was like how Phil and Techno had, only the worse, more sinful than theirs. Damn voices never knew how to shut up, which never seemed to work for Wilbur’s favour. Only some times they were whispering, then Wilbur would be thanking them for being quieter.
It was one of those nights, he whispered a straight “thank you” with no emotion what so ever to the demons he knew who were listening to him from inside. Although it was quiet, the chaos in his mind was now caused by the lingering toxic thoughts mixing with the crippling memories of the past month…how everything went from perfect to chaos, perhaps a sad forever written between him and people he used to call family. Were they still his family? After how they left him out and stabbed him with taking a few steps away from him, looking at him with eyes that screamed “I don’t trust you, stay away.” What happened and why did it happen? Was he not enough? Even though he didn’t mind taking several bullets for each and every one of them was his soul not enough to be called ‘trustworthy’? What wa-
In the heat of the argument inside his skull, he threw the wine glass at the edge of the pool, calming himself with the ear scratching noise of the poor glass shattering into little pieces and being dyed into a shade of red, because of the expensive wine that it held inside. He ran his nails on his head, between his brown locks that somehow always looked fluffy. He tugged on them as if he could rip out his thoughts and every single trash he had inside. As if it was that easy. he heard a voice whisper. He was tired, he was exhausted and sick of trying to hold onto his sanity when everything around him shouted insanity. For the second time in his life: he closed his eyes, let loose of his cold hands that were covering his ears and let the chaos rule him, just like how he was convinced it had to be. If he could not be the one to make it okay, he didn’t mind being the one to carry on the destiny written for them.