"Where you were there is a space that runs as deep as Hell.." - Room for Happiness (Fire version) by Kaskade
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Matt did not dare roll over. He was tired, uncomfortable and freezing. But should he move he would be more than numb. He would once more be reminded that no one was beside him. And never be again.
Wrappers littered the bedside table-condoms, plastic outer wrapping of cigarette packs, and chocolate. The mini trash can just out of view was empty. He had tried to throw it all away once.
The can never made it out of the room and the wrappers were almost obsessively placed in the correct space once more. He was pathetic.
Mourning.
Sad.
Depressed.
Obsessed...
Empty.
There was still a gun under his pillow for people who no longer looked for him. As well as one behind the bedside table. And in various other places of the house. None were needed anymore.
Mello was gone.
So was the mafia.
and Matt was there. In that bed.
Waiting...
Alone.
Hell could not be colder.
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