Hearing the three of them talk like that amplified the guilt which Troye felt, the pain which filled his heart. Fear pulsed through his veins as his

eyes grew blurry. Struggling, his breathing grew erratic. In an attempt to hide the state he was in, he held the cushion which he was sitting on

tightly, digging his fingers into the soft fabric.

It calmed him, his breaths slowed and deepened, but his stomach began to ache as he thought about what he had done to his family, to the

ones he loved.

"I need to go to the loo." Troye announced, jumping up from the sofa.

"Ok." Tyler nodded, looking into his eyes. Troye could see he was worried, cautious in fact.

And that hurt more.

He walked casually out of the room and then ran to the toilet.

Troye stood, staring at the mirror.

Numb, he simply watched as tears rolled down his cheeks. He watched as his eyes filled with torment, his body tremble in panic.

What had he done? What was he doing to himself? To his family? To Tyler? To everyone around him?

Troye slumped onto the floor, his back against the wall, facing the door of the bathroom.

That was when he saw a small smudge of blood on the tiles.

Manic, his brain exploded with alarm. His arms shook, his hands curled into fists. He stared, until his eyes ached, at the reminder of the pain he

had caused.

Troye lowered his eyes to watch his arms shake, and he saw the cuts and the smears and the slits.

He was numb once more.

He pushed himself off of the floor and walked, unfeeling, to the mirror and opened the cupboard which lay behind it.

Bottles and boxes of medicine were lined up in rows on each of the three shelves.

His mouth set into a thin line as he reached for the first cap.

Ripping the lid off, he lost control and dropped it.

Then, as if a trance had been lifted, he crumbled to the floor and began to sob.

He didn't want to do this. He had already caused so much pain. So much pain. But surely then he deserved it? The life he had now was in ruins,

broken pieces of the life he had once lived. Surely he deserved it? No, he didn't, no one deserves this. No one. But he did, didn't he? Didn't he

deserve to end his life?

He fought and he fought, the thoughts whirring in his mind.

But they won.

He was numb once more, his body vibrating and cold and hot and... out of control.

Weeping, he reached for the first pill which had rolled next to his leg.

"My happy little pill, take.." His voice broke off, his breath giving way. "take me away, draw my eyes... bring colour to my skies." He dropped the

first capsule into his mouth and swallowed. "My sweet little pill, take my heart..."

His movement manic, he scooped pill after pill into his mouth.

"I'm right within... know my skin." He whispered, his sobs stopping.

He needed this.

He deserved this.

Then it became an instinct, a sick and unstoppable process.

Pill after pill, bottle after bottle, box after box.

Then there was nothing left.

"My happy little pill, take me away. Draw my eyes, bring colour to my skies. My sweet little pill, take my heart. I'm right within, know my skin."

Troye smiled, closing his eyes.