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Description
Vincent groaned as the alarm clock screeched his wake-up call, its red digital numbers declaring it to be 5 pm.

Time to get up.

Vincent took in a deep ragged breath as he slowly opened his dull gray eyes.

Time to go through the day.

Time to cram pills down his throat to maintain his sanity in society.

Time to try and ignore their presence as they followed him about with those piercing eyes.

Reaching out blindly with one hand, Vincent felt about his bedside table and sighed as his fingers closed about the familiar oblong shape of the pill bottle. Ziprasidone. The miracle medication that kept him from submitting to the constant threat of insanity and kept him out of the nut house.

It came at a cost of course-as though being slave to a medicine wasn't costly enough already- in that it left him feeling sick to his stomach and at the constant risk of fainting.

But as Vincent slowly unscrewed the cap and shook out a capsule, he knew that it was nothing in comparison to the pain he'd caused their families. This suffering was the least of what he deserved when it came to justice's sake. After all, he deserved death for what he'd done. On that horrible day...

Vincent shook his head and swallowed the capsule dry; simultaneously clearing his head of those dark thoughts. He didn't want to dwell on them, not this early in the day. He instead chose to focus all of his attention on the current issue at hand; the alarm clock.

As the ungodly noise continued to assault his eardrums, Vincent seriously considered using the handgun from under his pillow to shoot the damned clock. Its unceasing racket was driving him up a wall. Vincent balefully looked at the device before reaching out and slapping the snooze button; the immediate silence being one of bliss.

However, it seemed that the silence brought them with it, for when he turned back towards his bed, he was face to face with one of them, the girl. Vincent sadly held her gaze for a moment before sneaking a quick glance about him to find himself surrounded by the other four children's spirits. Their white glowing eyes all bore into him as he sighed and looked down, shakily running his hand through his violet hair as he quelled the rising feelings of guilt and regret.

Time to face the day, indeed.

Sighing, Vincent kept his eyes shielded as he felt under his pillow, pausing when the cold metal brushed up against his fingers. The gun.

Vincent's eyes snapped towards the clock as he saw it to now be 5:03.

Five minutes. He would do it for five minutes, and then he would start the day.

As Vincent withdrew the cold handgun from underneath his pillow, the spirits vanished from his view, though he still felt their presence. With a sigh, he bowed his head as he cocked the gun and placed the barrel to his temple. Five minutes. He would do this for five minutes every day...

Until he would have the strength to pull the trigger.

Description
Vincent groaned as the alarm clock screeched his wake-up call, its red digital numbers declaring it to be 5 pm.

Time to get up.

Vincent took in a deep ragged breath as he slowly opened his dull gray eyes.

Time to go through the day.

Time to cram pills down his throat to maintain his sanity in society.

Time to try and ignore their presence as they followed him about with those piercing eyes.

Reaching out blindly with one hand, Vincent felt about his bedside table and sighed as his fingers closed about the familiar oblong shape of the pill bottle. Ziprasidone. The miracle medication that kept him from submitting to the constant threat of insanity and kept him out of the nut house.

It came at a cost of course-as though being slave to a medicine wasn't costly enough already- in that it left him feeling sick to his stomach and at the constant risk of fainting.

But as Vincent slowly unscrewed the cap and shook out a capsule, he knew that it was nothing in comparison to the pain he'd caused their families. This suffering was the least of what he deserved when it came to justice's sake. After all, he deserved death for what he'd done. On that horrible day...

Vincent shook his head and swallowed the capsule dry; simultaneously clearing his head of those dark thoughts. He didn't want to dwell on them, not this early in the day. He instead chose to focus all of his attention on the current issue at hand; the alarm clock.

As the ungodly noise continued to assault his eardrums, Vincent seriously considered using the handgun from under his pillow to shoot the damned clock. Its unceasing racket was driving him up a wall. Vincent balefully looked at the device before reaching out and slapping the snooze button; the immediate silence being one of bliss.

However, it seemed that the silence brought them with it, for when he turned back towards his bed, he was face to face with one of them, the girl. Vincent sadly held her gaze for a moment before sneaking a quick glance about him to find himself surrounded by the other four children's spirits. Their white glowing eyes all bore into him as he sighed and looked down, shakily running his hand through his violet hair as he quelled the rising feelings of guilt and regret.

Time to face the day, indeed.

Sighing, Vincent kept his eyes shielded as he felt under his pillow, pausing when the cold metal brushed up against his fingers. The gun.

Vincent's eyes snapped towards the clock as he saw it to now be 5:03.

Five minutes. He would do it for five minutes, and then he would start the day.

As Vincent withdrew the cold handgun from underneath his pillow, the spirits vanished from his view, though he still felt their presence. With a sigh, he bowed his head as he cocked the gun and placed the barrel to his temple. Five minutes. He would do this for five minutes every day...

Until he would have the strength to pull the trigger.