Monsters

Somewhere inside this closet your whole life exists an evil little secret that keeps you so nervous..

Two years. Two years was all it took to set him completely off, to finally sink in enough that his soul mate was gone, for the poison to reach his head and let the dark thoughts set in his mind and twist him into something he never thought he'd end up being.
A Monster.

Your boarding up your windows, your feet are on the floor, but what your keeping out is on the wrong side of the door..

Tom was once someone happy and nearly angelic in everything he did, someone who never knew what it meant to feel suicidal. Now, his blue eyes were constantly clouded with agony and rage. Losing Chris made him snap.
He was desperate for a way out, someone to blame. He felt so much guilt every time he tried to push the blame off on someone else, but he was only a man. He could only take so much.
And being broken only lessened what he could take.

I know the reason your running scared, I met the monster inside your head ,You never know the feeling of being alive, It's not enough, it never stops coming, It's not enough, so take a breath, say good bye.

He blamed the world for ripping his heart and soul apart. His pain was soon replaced by anger and he took it out on everyone. The guilt afterward only fueled his rage. He took lives in his hands and destroyed them. It was their fault for this. It was their fault Chris didn't love him anymore. He cried every time he saw blood on his hands, but he couldn't stop. Every person he killed or ruined pieced him back together while twisting him just a little more.
He never murdered cleanly. It was the torture and the fear in their eyes as their lives slipped away that put him back together and let him feel like he'd accomplished something. A gun was too easy. Knives and things Tom didn't want to admit he had that caused enough pain, that required enough skill to properly maim before or without killing at all, those were his choice weapons. Those gave him the satisfaction he needed. If he failed at everything else, at least he had this.

Your skin is crawling on you, the shadows on the ground, and now the room is spinning, Oh god what was that sound...

It was when he got home and curled up on his cold bed and stared at his bloody hands that it really hit him what he was doing. The guilt made him sob and tear off his clothes. He always lay there naked, shivering and sniffling, his tears dried and his head spinning. Oh, god it hurt. He was damned for sure. He still sent out a feeble prayer for forgiveness out of misery.
Tom would then get up and take a long shower, rinsing his sorrow and and regret and blood down the drain. He never slept anymore. He broke all the mirrors in his apartment so he wouldn't have to set eyes on the sunken creature he'd turned into.

The fear is paralyzing trapped here inside yourself, your will to leave is dying, is dying, you're dying

Tom was scared. Terrified. As many times he's killed, he's never felt quite like this, watching himself viciously attack an (innocent) woman like he wasn't inside the shell that was now his body. He was more like a petrified bystander, staring in on a cold-blooded murder in some dank alley.
He was scared of himself. He felt like he had no more control over his actions. It was like being controlled completely by someone else and just being able to watch. He was so scared. He never wanted it to come to this. He needed help before he lost himself.

I know the reason your running scared, I met the monster inside your head ,You never know the feeling of being alive, It's not enough, it never stops coming, It's not enough, so take a breath, say good bye.

He couldn't stop. He felt the monster inside him claw at him to get out every time he was around people, telling him to kill, kill, they deserve it, they took him away, they tore you apart, they hate you, they want you dead... and the pressure was too much.

You're dying down, Dying down...

Tom locked himself into his house. He wouldn't eat because he just threw it up. He was disgusted with himself. He was terrified of the demons he was convinced lived in him. He just wanted everything to be back the way it was. He wanted everything to go away. It hurt. So much. Chris...

I know the reason your running scared, I met the monster inside your head...

Maybe if he'd just get rid of the demons.. maybe just one cut would get rid of them... maybe if Chris was here... but no. He left. He wasn't going to come back. Tom let it set in. Chris wasn't going to come back. It hurt, but Tom allowed himself, finally to accept it. His soul mate was gone and was never coming back.
Could he survive with that?

You never know the feeling of being alive, It's not enough, it never stops coming...

He was already dead inside, so maybe... just maybe... Maybe he could gather the strength to call him. Maybe he was already terrified of the monster so the fear of Chris rejecting him wouldn't scare him out of it.
He took a breath and dialed the numbers he knew better then his own.
….
He let himself smile when he heard Chris' soft voice, “Yeah?”
“It's Tom.” He whispered, holding his breath. He heard the other's own hitch.
“It's been a long time.”
“Yeah.” Maybe he would be okay.
“Tom?” His voice sounded nervous.
“Yeah?”
“I don't love you anymore. You know that, right?” He asked gently. Tom laughed harshly. He would've been shattered if he felt anything anymore.
“Yeah. I know.” Tom picked up his favorite knife. His monster's favorite knife.
“I hope you've moved on okay. I never wanted to hurt you...”
“Well enough.” He whispered, tracing a line across his throat delicately with the blade.
“What did you call for?” Tom smiled at the question. He couldn't cry anymore. The monster had ripped the ability away from him already.
“To say goodbye.” Tom let the monster take control. It would be gone now. He'd be whole again. Even if he didn't survive it.

It's not enough, so take a breath, say good bye.