Vacant Expression

His eyes, once shining Hazel orbs, now lost and broken. The grey tone, depressing anyone that comes in their path. Destroying others as he had destroyed himself.
Lank hair, a black scrambled mess. Drooping onto his porcelain White skin. Swooping onto his forehead, sticking to the sweat. Tangled locks cascading on the ground, like a halo. Surrounding his face. His sickeningly pale blue face, with the vacant eyes. The dead soul. The tearstains from years ago still there. Scarred onto him. The sweat dripping down his perfect, curved nose. Onto his cracked, purple dry lips. Slightly parted to let the swirls of smoky, cold air invade his lungs that are corroded with years of smoking. The blood in his veins thin and lost, lost somehow. 
The hollowed out cheeks, lining the bones protruding out of his face, violently. 
His bones. Rib bones, hip bones shoulderblades. They look sharp. Evil. Scary. His thin,  death like frame. Bones jutting out everywhere. He can't have eaten in days. 
And his ragged clothes. Filthy. Rags. 
Cheap, ruined clothes. 
He is broken. 
His soul is lost.
I'm here to Find his soul, spirit, hopes and dreams. I am here to get back those sparkling, glowing orbs in trade for those life less, glassy, foggy eyes he is wearing now.
I'm here to save him.

There he is, slumped in the corner of the White, padded cell. No more than 1.5 metres cubed. I look through the secured window. He is there. Doing nothing. With no one. Staring at the wall expressionless. Staring at  the same spot as the last week i've seen him. I've only just got my first case. Him. Gerard Arther Way. 21 years old, institutionalised for safety reasons. danger to himself and others. Depression and bip... The rest of the page is ripped off. I got him as my first case. He is one of the worst here, why give him to me? I asked for him, they had given up with him. He's unresponsive and mute. Hasn't talked or communicated for the 5 years he's been here. 
I don't know how I'm supposed to save him. How do you save someone from themselves? 

I finally working up the guts to meet him. Maybe he will sense that i want to help and talk to me. Right? Thats whats supposed to happen. I can feel the butterflies. I mean dragons raging in my chest, trying to make me sick. Why the fuck won't they go? Why am I even scared? He's going to be tied up anyway. I just want to make a good impression. Some nameless face curtly walks up to his cell and unlocks it. He then guides him to the room I'm in. I'm shocked out of words for the good part of ten minutes. He is dead. He has to be. That isnt alive. It's a sickening sight. He doesn't even acknowledge  my presence. After another painfull five minutes I have a face nearly as sickly pale as his and rush off to th nearest bathroom and puke. He. He looks exactly like Damon. My Damon. Not exactly in looks but his being. His lonely body. More Kiel a corpse. He's not alive. His eyes are vacant. 
I know I'm not a hero. I didn't save him. I left him there. Not that he even noticed. The sight of him made me sick. How weak Is that? How can i help him if it's killing me to just look at him. No. He needs my help and I need to get over my worries to help him. 
I'll try again soon, o don't want to overdo it. I'll relapse again. I've never been stable since... That. 

You'll know what I'm on about later. For now I wanna show you how much of a coward i am. How pathetic I am, or was. And the stupid little excuse for leaving him alone like thousands others did when he needed someone the most. 

A few days later, after I had tried to find his birth parents and failed miserably. I searched for ANY family. But no one could be found. It seems he is all alone in this world. More alone than me. Not liked for myself, only for the things i have. Not wanted or needed, only there to give people what they don't need. Money. Lots of it. My father was important. Still is to thousands. Just not to me. But I inherited most if it, having only one sibling. But I dont want it. It destroyed the real me. Got rid of my friends, If you could call them that and attracted mosquito-like people sucking the money dry from my bones, nit caring about me at all. I didn't care until I came to the realisation that I'm worthless. I don't help anyone really. I make this world a worse place. 
That's why I'm here. I want to be needed. Although i don't think this is going to change anything now. He is vacant. Incapable of love, or Amy type
Of emotion for that matter. But I'm going to help him. In a way. I was like them a few years back. pretending to be someone so the people that just used me for my money would like me as a person too. It didn't work, obviously. And if it did, i think it would be for the worse. I'm sick of pretending for someone. But i'll pretend for anyone now. Now I have no one to be me for.