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Carl couldn’t move, he was stuck. He was trying so hard to move and stop his leg from bleeding, Carl had been an idiot. He had stabbed himself in the leg, he didn’t know it would turn out with his blue denim jeans from blue to a nasty red color.
Carl knew he shouldn’t have done it, he knew better than to stab himself in the leg… but he had just wanted to see what it’d feel like and it felt good for a few seconds. Better than good, euphoric, but then it all started coming back and now there had been a knife in his leg and everything hurt.
Carl hadn’t notice when tears had started coming out, he hadn’t cried for a long time. He wondered why he was crying, He wanted to die. He couldn’t do it anymore, but he didn’t want to die like this, not here and now. Carl didn’t sob or make any noise while he cried, only tears slipping out of his eyes. He’d stare up at the dirty ceiling of the random house he’d taken shelter in.
Carl really couldn’t move (did he want to though?) maybe it was best to just let his sleepiness take him over and get it over with peacefully. His eyes were drifting, he thought of his dad. He wondered how he’d feel if he learnt that his son was about to die. He would care, he’d rush to come save him (wouldn’t he?) Carl then thought of Judith, his sister. Thinking about Judith made him smile. He’d miss her, he’d just hope she’d be fine on her own.
Carl kept thinking about everybody who’d made a difference in his life, people who were once the highlight of his life.