He’s never looked so much like a child. So scared, so confused.
How could he have let it come to this? Why did he all he do was ruin things? He never truly wanted to hurt anyone. He wasn’t a malicious monster…
Perhaps he was.
He was a time bomb. It was only a matter of time before he destroyed (or tried to destroy) everyone in his life. It was his curse.
He’d failed with Elizabeth; she had Creed to fall back on. It was Creed that she loved. She loved the beast.
What did that make him, then?
Nothing. Less than nothing. A disgusting leech, a cockroach - vermin that didn’t belong.
A cretin that did nothing but destroy.
DESTROY, DESTROY, DE-FUCKING-STROY. THAT’S MY TALENT, WHAT ABOUT YOURS?
He stares at himself again, hardly noticing how violently he’s shaking. All he sees is a monster staring back. A murderous, deceitful, jealous, worthless monster.
This is your legacy, Christopher. This is what you will leave behind. Not your smiles, no. Those were your cover. No, you’ve done your true purpose many times over. Destroy, destroy, destroy.
His tears are everywhere. Just as his blood is soon to be. Just as his brain. A strained laugh leaves his throat. Oh, sweet release. Sweet silence.
His hand reaches for the godsend gun and with a quivering hand he raises it to his temple.
“No more. I won’t be a monster… I’ll be a good man in oblivion… I know it,” his voice is barely a whisper. So hoarse, so desperate to believe that he can be capable of something better.
The gun cocks.
His final breaking point is no more.
Bang.
And neither is he.
