They're gone...all of them. He's the only one left, he's not even sure how that happened. He shuts his eyes tightly, curling his arms around his legs, Only now does he understand the emotion humans call sadness. It was a horrible feeling, a black hole in his heart, sucking out his soul. He is now curled up in the corner of this forsaken room, their blood staining his hands, his clothes, his face. The different colors of blood beginning to blend together on his grey skin. The humans blood had already dried, forming a thin layer of deep red, cracking in some color wasn't recognizable on his black jacket, which was already thoroughly stained. However, the trolls blood hadn't dried, it was still dripping off his skin, and from the soaked fabric of his sleeves. Splatters of blood ran down his face, following the path tears would take, if he could bring himself to cry.

Although the death of the trolls, along with the humans, were eating him from the inside out, the tears wouldn't fall. He no longer had the courage to open his eyes, to gaze upon their corpses, locked in the fetal positions in which they had died in. He could hear the blood dripping off the walls, and it scared him even more, it meant that the rivers were crawling their way towards him. He choked on a sob, feeling the urge to cry, but knowing if he did, it meant he would fall apart, beyond repair. Hell, when was he even all there!?

He opens his mouth slightly, feeling his lip split and his own blood run down his chin, blending with the others. "gone...they're all gone..."he says in a monotone, sadly, slowly. His words echoed hollowly, resounding and silencing without delivering the message to anyone. He buries his head into his knees, trying to block out the noise, to blot out the images of their dead eyes, or their pleads for help.

He blindly reaches for his sickle, grappling for the metal handle of his weapon. He bites his lip, drawing even more blood from his lip as he felt his hand run through puddles of blood. He finally bumped it, quickly grasping the handle and pulling it tightly to his chest. He didn't want to be alone, alone in this dead world, ravaged and dried up. Even though he put up the facade of annoyance, and hate, he enjoyed the others company. Behind the death threats, past the pessimism, was the underlying tone of loneliness, of the need for someones presence. He wanted everyone together,including the humans, he didn't even know why he had always put up the facade, it was his second nature.

But now as he clasped his fingers around the handle of the sickle, now moist with blood, he thought of the smiles of all of them, the way they all laughed, the way their skin felt against his own. He realized how much he wanted to be with all of them, he brought the sickle up to his neck, only now letting the tears clear away the bloody tracks on his cheeks. He smiled slightly, and opened his eyes. He hooked the blade around his neck and opened his mouth again, "I'll...see you guys soon!" he said, almost in a happy tone, but the sadness was still there, the blood dripping down his face as he heard the tears dropping to the ground. With one last tear, he drew the blade across his neck, severing the bond with this dead world, and walking into the warm embrace of all of his friends.

/Authors note/

Story time children! Gather around!

Ok, so I wrote this when I wasn't even on Act 3, my friend had told me enough about the trolls and things that happened that I knew they had different blood colors and that Karkat was usually left alone and stuff like that. But this was actually inspired by the cover picture ((Which I do not own!)) and when I visualized that Karkat was essentially staring at his friends dead bodies, this fanfic came into play. I literally found the picture by fucking around on Google images.

Sorry for the Sadstuck guys, when the moment calls, you have to answer!

So, I hope you're sobbing on the ground now...

Yep.

-Levy

Disclaimer~I don't Homestuck, or the wonderful art that I'm using as the cover image~