Insanity
Summary: Maybe he was so sane, he went in insane. But that doesn't matter, for he wasn't meant to hurt that way. He wasn't meant to die so horribly, but humans make their own choices. And for once, he made one of his own.
So, first story that didn't have to do with O.C.'s! Wow. Onward!
All alone, he was. Every light was turned off and a radio was blaring bad rap music. The small apartment held shabby furniture, except for one. The kitchen was the most up-to-date, and that was where he was hiding away. His team was away, doing whatever. He didn't care nor would he ever.
In his pasty white hand was a steak knife, spiked edges glinting dangerously in the small light emitted from closed curtains.
Ah. He loved weapons. They always called out to him, telling him too do naughty things. Very naughty things. And he wanted to listen, but Tala wouldn't let him. Tala said this and that, basically telling him that the voices meant he was going crazy and he shouldn't listen.
But Tala wasn't here now, so he was going to listen.
His hand shook slightly as the cool metal settled above his vein. In one quick motion, he slit his wrist. Blood quickly trailed down and Bryan laughed. The red made his skin look paler, more dead like. And that made him smile.
Bryan didn't like his memories, he wanted them gone! Gone! Far far away! The only way? Death. That's what the knives, guns, and poisons had been telling him. Finally, he had listened. And joy was now his.
The bleeding was stopping, so Bryan switched wrists. Searing pain made him see stars as he pressed so deeply that the liquid iron became a waterfall. But the pleasure afterwards! A moan of enjoyment escaped his lips as he slid down the dirty wall.
He continued to slice and cut. Moans and groans left pale lips as lavender eyes fluttered closed. A fully bloodied arm raised itself before his face. A pink tongue darted out and captured the sweet, red rain. He savored the forbidden taste before going back for more.
In the back of his head, he knew that the other's had returned. But only did he raise his head when a gasp was heard.
Bryan looked up to see the faces of his friends and teammates looking at him as if he was insane. And he was. So very insane.
He slowly took another lick before raising the knife above his head. Pale eyes watched in grim satisfaction as the others raced across the small room towards him. He plunged it down into his arm, grinning as the tip was visible on the other side.
Around and around he turned it before he dragged it up towards his shoulder. Painful pleasure filled his head as his new best friend destroyed his arm. And as the knife was pulled from his hands, Bryan smiled.
He was now dead. There was no saving him, and he didn't care. He wanted this death; as the grim reaper knocked on his door, Bryan opened up. The lilac haired teen grasped death's hand and watched as his soul left.
And the ghost floated above his old body, smiling. He couldn't remember a thing, and that was what he wanted. Because he knew nothing, he followed the grim reaper up the white stairs and into the clouds.
Bryan glanced back down too see people grieving for him. He whispered, knowing that they would hear him.
"Follow me, it's wonderful up here." And then he continued his way up.
Above his head was a gold halo and from his back was a pair of lavender wings.