The faint banging sound of his sister's small feet hitting the floor as she jumped rope, could be heard all the way up in Larry's room. He rolled over in his bed, now staring at the wooden floor, which had small bits of dust scattered on it. Other than the consistant thud and skid, of feet and rope, the house was silent. Larry's parents had gone out, as they always did. The red letters on the clock told Larry that it was thirteen minutes past midnight. It was hours past his sister's bedtime, but he didn't have the heart or the strength to make her go to sleep. He figured he would just let her wear herself out, and carry her up to her bed from whatever part of the house she fell asleep in. It didn't matter anyway. His parents would be out well past three in the morning, as they always were. Larry's lack of desire to do anything was slowly begining to drive him insane. He could feel it under his skin. The desire had gone because there was nothing anymore that brought him pleasure. Nothing that could make him feel anything. Right now, even the deepest pain would be welcome. For a brief moment, Larry had contemplated hurting himself. Doing something, anything. However, standing in the bathroom with the large kitchen knife positioned over his arm, he decided against it. It wasn't that he was afraid. It simply felt wrong.
Suddenly, he leaped up from his bed and dashed into the bathroom. Locking the door behind him, he quickly undressed and threw himself into the shower. Pulling the curtains shut, he turned on the water as cold as it would go and sat down on the shower's floor. He let the icy water run down his back, as he pulled his knees up into his chest. This had been a common past time for Larry lately. Anytime the forceful feeling of angst, instability or simply the lull of numbness would possess his body, he would run into the bathroom and sit with the water on cold for as long as it took to go away. The longest he'd stayed that way was two hours. His parents never noticed, mostly because of the fact that they were never home, but also because, when they were home, the payed no attention to Larry. That is to say, except for when his father felt like giving him another talk. Trying to get him to quit the chess team and join the football team. Still, Larry's thoughts were not on his parents. They had never really mattered to him and he figured that was okay. Still, he wanted someone to matter to him. As so many people now of days were saying, you should learn to truly love yourself, instead of looking for someone else to complete you. However, Larry thought dully about this for many hours and decided that if it was people who put the pain inside you in the first place, wouldn't you need people to take it away. Maybe you shouldn't rely on someone else to complete you. Still, you need someone to care about. Somone to love. And someone to love you in return.

About fourty five minutes later, Larry turned off the running water and wandered out to the bathroom. The pearly walls and floor reminded him of his impression of a sanitarium. Or at least how the places were portrayed in movies. The walls were spottless, as were the floors. The sink sparkled back at him, pompously. Larry wondered to himself how even a sink could give off the impression that it were better than he was. Was there something in it? Did he think that lowly of himself. Or was he simply going mad? He gave a small trickle of laughter as his face pursed into a sort of half smirk. He rubbed a hand across his sallow arm as his reflection caught his attention. Those shining blue eyes darted up to the face that gazed at Larry through the mirror. His hand now rose up to touch his own cheek. 'That can't be me,' he thought calously, wondering who this person was. "That isn't me," he said, this time outloud. However, his voice was unconvincing, and his eye's connection with the mirror never faultered. Lonliness shone as brightly as the pale sapphire in Larry's eyes. Each crease, mark or movement of Larry's face reminded him of yet another flaw. He didn't want to see this person anymore. This person looked scared and confused. Pathetic and alone. This person needed to go. Suddenly, small silvery tears began to roll silently down the mirror's face. Larry soon realized, these tears were his. He touched the corner of his eye, preventing one tear to roll down it's destined course, instead diverting it down his thumb. "No," he said slowly. He stood there for another five minutes. Each passing second felt like a year. The tears began to cease and a sudden urge rose within him. Lifting a tightly closed fist into the air, Larry banged his hand hard against the glass. Nothing happened, except for a large red cirle that began to pulsate at the end of Larry's fist. Undettered, he proceeded banging his fists against the mirror, for what seemed like hours. Finally, as if in a miracle, he hit a weak spot and the large mirror shattered across the floor. Large shards fell to the floor, shattering into smaller pieces. Larry fell backwards in shock. His back hit the wall behind him as he slid slowly to the floor. Looking down at his hands and arms that were now covered in blood he was reminded of a scene in one of his favourite movies. However, this was not a science fiction movie. Those simply brought him moments of happy fantasy, to take him away. Yet they could never offer the solice of understanding. Softly, Larry mouthed a line from the movie that he could truly relate to, as he sat there on the floor, surrounded by shards of glass, bleeding all over his pants. "I have . . . I feel . . . this, great, great pressure . . . coming down on me . . . it's just constantly coming down . . . crushing me." As he finished the line he sat in silence, staring at half of his emotionless expression in a broken piece of glass that leaned against the wall.