I've killed them. I'm sure of it.
When the colors go, only blue stays, and I'm left with only things that hurt me. No insides anymore, only nonsensical outsides and a deafening head. I try to remember his name.
"Simon? Simon?"
I tear apart the room, looking for corpses, but even they're gone.
A bitter alkaloid stored in my liver, now on his bed. He's not there to be angry. I wish he was there to be angry.
"River?
Cold ghost holding me close. He knows my name but I can't see him.
Medicine. Guilt. Reaction. Sleep. Innocence.
Repeat daily.