But the game
was over. Because no one knew where to put him. Because yes, he
had gone through pain just like the rest of them, but it was a
different kind of pain. It wasn’t an uncontrollable,
infuriating pain; it was a self inflicted, insanity causing
pain. Because he wasn’t sitting and watching. He was
feeling and doing. He was moving. Thinking. Thinking things he
shouldn’t have been thinking. Because he had control over
the scars littering his arms under his sweatshirt. Because he
made the decision to swallow all those pills. Because he
suffered, but he suffered at his own hand.
