"Fuck."

The boy's tears caused his vision to fuzz, his palms sweaty and his heart thumping like a drum. The blood, his blood, coated his hands and hoodie, his shoes and jeans and he could see the bone in his fingers.

The metal taste lingered on the tip of his tongue and it stunned him. He finally realized one fact.

He lost it.

The voices gradually got louder and louder, repeating the same words and it overlapped each and everyone else. The small lamp on the drawer barely illuminated the room but the thick fluid didn't need recognition. It stained everything it drifted off to, including Toby.

His eyes teared up, his numb nerves not numb from the adrenaline that rushed through his veins.

He couldn't help but smile. His lips tinted with red and dripped, teeth yellow and eyes glossy. He felt nothing. Only a numb feeling and the warmth of the blood pouring sent shivers down his spine.

He wished he was sobbing. He wished he was in total despair. He wished he was mentally breaking down with every drop, screaming and his voice becoming raw. He wish he could just disappear in bedsheets and thin blankets that he sat on, pulling them over his head to protect himself from the Autumn breezes that drafted into his window. He could only wish.

Instead now his emotions seemed to vanish. His anxiety left all together now. It was just a pounding in his head and a blank stare towards his picture frame.

Lyra looked so beautiful in it. Her long blonde hair tied up in a ponytail, pale snow white completion brought out her diamond eyes and the soft pink lip balm that glistened from the camera's flash. She was wearing her favorite outfit- a pink tank-top that wrapped around her tiny frame and a pair of long skinny jeans paired with a pair of boots. A heart necklace dangled from it's silver chain and was shifted slightly due to her own shift to wrap her arm around Toby.

He remembered that day like yesterday. The hot summer air, his skinned knees and Lyra's playful behavior of shoving and noogies still remained frozen in the boy's mind. Her breathtaking smile that was real. You could tell because her eyes smiled too, despite her sweating like a pig and their dad's ranting about the grill malfunctioning in front of the neighbors.

Toby looked back down at his hands. The condition was not getting better; it was now drenched in blood and could barely even move. He looked up his arms that were coated in a thick sleeve, but he didn't need proof of what was under them. Cuts. Plenty of cuts littered his skin, bruises and scars that would never fade from his flesh nor his brain.

He didn't want to imagine how Lyra would react to his self destructive behaviors. He didn't want to have her think he was in need like a puppy up for adoption. He didn't want to see her sob and tell him that she loved him over and over, calling the cops and having him sent to yet another hospital. He didn't want her to have a panic attack and dart out, leaving him behind. He didn't want her to look at Toby and go silent, an aurora of wrath to surround her soul.

The episodes played over and over like a broken record in his head, the emotional numbness slowly seeping away from his reach. The tears built their way back up. His heartbeat started to beat again, faster and faster with every instrustive thought and second.

"I'm not a good brother."
"Fuck me, I'm just this stupid little maggot on this planet. Who said someone cared? Who said someone ever even loved me?"
"I'm just this idiot who can't do anything right."
"I didn't save her."
"I never saved her."
"I couldn't save her from the start."
"She can't be dead. She can't be. She can't be."
Toby fell down onto his knees, face cringing and his throat scratchy. He slammed his hands on the ground over and over, smashing his head until he felt blood pour from the top of it. It relived him. He's getting what he deserved.

"WAKE UP TOBY."
"WAKE UP."

The last of his consciousness was wasted in a pool of blood that collected beneath him. And he was smiling. A real smile. You could tell because his eyes were smiling too.