It was dark when he woke. A nightmare of black was flooding the room, engulfing it in darkness. When was it since he last got out of here? He remembered it had been three, no, four days since he awoke from his slumber. He was cold and shivering beneath the thick quilt blankets he was huddled in. The room that looked more like a jail cell for him was bleak and dreary, as though death had just passed over it and withered every drop of life and hope. Then again, maybe it did.
He stood up from his cocoon and looked out the window, staring at the gray that blanketed the sky. Hearing the pit- patter of drops on the roof, he sighed. "Of course," he thought, "It's raining again."
When he was a child, he thought that the sky understood his feelings and shared the pain with him. When he was hurt, the sky would send down bitter raindrops like tears. When he was sad, it would send down a gloomy shower of droplets. When he was enraged, it would come up with a furious hurricane to shatter the world with. Now, he realized how foolish he was.
Sighing, he took another blanket from the large mahogany cabinet and dragged it with him to his bed. He was hungry, starving even, but he couldn't bring himself to go outside and eat. Maybe if she was here…
He couldn't take it anymore. He burst into tears and cried out her name over and over again. It had been his fault, HIS fault why she no longer exists. He didn't deserve to live anymore. He didn't deserve to be here, living and breathing, while she is cold and gone and dead, lying in a coffin and buried somewhere beneath the ground. He deserved to suffer for what he did.
"It'll be over for me soon anyway," he thought. Starving himself and cutting himself off from the world seemed to be the harshest punishment he could think of for himself. He knew he didn't deserve a peaceful death. He had to die in the cruelest way possible.
Soon, he was lying on his bed again, mind still fuzzy about what happened THAT night. Then, with these thoughts in mind, Soul Evans once again fell into sleep.