The Tragic Fall of Mr Smith
II
It was not until some months after I had begun my plan did I notice a positive change. She began accepting and thanking me for my compliments. She would repeat positive things about herself to herself. Everything I had done thus far seemed to be paying off. So this positive attitude continued on for a few weeks, I eased even on my plan and bombardment of positivity on her. I now realise that this was a mistake.
I came home one day to find a letter she had written to herself on the table, I doubt she had meant for me to find it. And so I perused over it, as my eyes ran down the page, my heart began to beat faster I could feel my stomach muscles clench, sweat begun to form on my forehead. It was as if everything I had done thus far to help her had only worsened her condition. It was then in that moment that I realised that I had not done anything to help her I had become the monster and carelessly drove her, although unintentionally it is no excuse, into the ground. The dark shadow I had once perceived her condition to be, had mutated into a black void, a black hole spinning out of control and there was now nothing I could do, or anyone else could do for that matter.
However, I tried still. I made pleads to her to know that she was not alone, but for all my tenacity there was no change in her condition. I Eventually drove myself to pacing my room in the god forsaken hours of the night, raking my mind for any trace of how to help her, her poor soul, that with the right and proper care could have been saved but I, in all my tenacity decided to try and cure her myself, only to destroy her soul beyond all possible help. The devil was in me. I soon began to lock myself in my room. Talking to no one, I could even bear to look at her, for all the pain I had caused her.
I soon came to the conclusion that to help her I had to think and feel as she did. And so I burned my morals, everything I lived for and begun down the dark path to destruction. It did not occur to me that I would not be able to retrieve myself from such a state, but desperate times call for desperate measures.
I came home one day to find a letter she had written to herself on the table, I doubt she had meant for me to find it. And so I perused over it, as my eyes ran down the page, my heart began to beat faster I could feel my stomach muscles clench, sweat begun to form on my forehead. It was as if everything I had done thus far to help her had only worsened her condition. It was then in that moment that I realised that I had not done anything to help her I had become the monster and carelessly drove her, although unintentionally it is no excuse, into the ground. The dark shadow I had once perceived her condition to be, had mutated into a black void, a black hole spinning out of control and there was now nothing I could do, or anyone else could do for that matter.
However, I tried still. I made pleads to her to know that she was not alone, but for all my tenacity there was no change in her condition. I Eventually drove myself to pacing my room in the god forsaken hours of the night, raking my mind for any trace of how to help her, her poor soul, that with the right and proper care could have been saved but I, in all my tenacity decided to try and cure her myself, only to destroy her soul beyond all possible help. The devil was in me. I soon began to lock myself in my room. Talking to no one, I could even bear to look at her, for all the pain I had caused her.
I soon came to the conclusion that to help her I had to think and feel as she did. And so I burned my morals, everything I lived for and begun down the dark path to destruction. It did not occur to me that I would not be able to retrieve myself from such a state, but desperate times call for desperate measures.
♠ ♠ ♠
Please comment