Disclaimer: I own nothing, not the character, places, nothing!

Warning: depressing with character death! Note: I put all of Connor's thoughts in little '' things

Connors POV Connor sits on his bed, the bed where he and Cordelia had sex. He picks up the pillow, brings it to his face, it still smells of her. He moans and remembers the way her touch felt, how for a single moment, he believed in heave. 'Where did I go wrong? I should have known from the beginning, she never loved me. I was her toy, something to play with until she grew bored. She wanted me to have something real. She never understood, I've had real. Real is watching the man who raised you die, Real is living in hell.' A smirk forms on his lips as he lets out a half hearted laugh 'God, I thought I knew hell, after all, I grew up there. But this world, it's a thousand times worse.' He gets up and looks out the window, looking down upon LA, watching the people pass by him, unnoticing. He sees two people walking down the street, a pair of young lovers holding hands. Tears fall silent down his cheek. He brushes them away in disgust. And looking down at his damp hand. 'No wonder she left me. A pathetic wimp.' Tears stream down, he no longer cares to brush them off. 'Damn her!' He sobs, falling on the floor 'No, Damn me! Damn ME!!!!!!! I drover her off!, Drove her to him!' He strides across his room, reaching for a dagger. 'Damn me.' He presses the dagger down across the soft skin at his wrist as blood pools around the knife, finishing one, he starts on the other. The deed done, he drops the dagger. It clatters on the floor. 'Damn me.'