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He was alone. The darkness surrounding him inched closer. Where had she gone? His best friend throughout his short seventeen years of life. She was there when he was asleep. But now she was gone. The encroaching darkness made its goal to swallow him whole and he was shaking. His heart beat quickened and his palms sweaty. He couldn't feel any presence around and it made him ache to know he'd been abandoned.

His head pounded with increasing pain. Where were his meds? He had no more. He ran out in this medium of sorts between godhood and mortality. He inched up close to the wall, the rough texture of the limestone scratching his skin as he started jerking. He felt disconnected from reality and began spacing in and out, more pain with each cycle. Why was this happening to him? He had always had medication before. Is this what death felt kike? These thoughts ran through his mind. Plaguing him with his own short life span.

The three people he cared most for, hated him. One wanted to kill him, the others, nothing to do with him. He felt utterly alone before going unconscious. Sweet relief from the pain of the waking world. In seconds he was dressed in the traditional golden garb of the Yellow Moon's sleeping royalty. He was in his Dream Self. He didn't want to wake up. He just wanted to stay here in the comfort of being called Heir. It was pleasant.

He had no idea how much time had passed since he went unconscious in the waking world but was soon pulled back into reality. Every painful nerve in his body struck him at once. It was excruciating but there was someone here. Someone who could help him get out of here. Human warmth. He pulled himself onto the lap of the other person there and spaced out. He was dragged home and put on his couch.

He came back to the world and angrily vanished from the Timeline. He no longer wanted to play this game. The one that ended the world. Sure he got to see his best friend. But she hated him now and he wanted none of it. He stood on the edge of a platform. How easy it would be to jump into the ocean. He lept over the white washed platform with a chain around his neck. The burning sensation of the chains combined with the constricting cut off his air supply. Someone grabbed his wrist, the chains still burning him as he was pulled back over the edge.

Silent tears running down his face as the chains were removed. They both asked the same question. Looking for different answers.

"Why?"