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"You're slowly growing sorrow in that head of yours. Everything you do feels like a chore now."
Those words looped in Mark's head over and over again like a scratched vinyl record, as much as they hate to admit it, she is right.
A while before Mark and Wallter's divorce, Mark started to feel a bit depressed, he didn't want to get out of bed, he didn't want to go to work, he didn't want to do anything, Wallter would try and comfort Mark with lots of affection, hugs, kisses, heart-to-heart's, and Wallter would even play songs on the piano for Mark, as much as Mark did enjoy all of it, they just couldn't feel any better.
Matters became only worse when Wallter started drinking that darn drink, Grey Stuff, at first Mark didn't think so much about it, she thought it wouldn't hurt Wallter at all, Wallter wasn't an alcoholic anyway, she was just trying it.. and that taste test quickly became an addiction, an addiction Mark was absolutely not okay with. Mark would plead Wallter to stop drinking it, yelling and crying, but Wallter just wouldn't listen, "It's just a drink, Mark," she'd say, "You're just being overdramatic." The two started to argue, a lot, harmful remarks, yelling, screaming, tears, neither of them enjoyed it, but it just couldn't be helped.
One day, Mark decided they'd have had enough of it all, "I hurt those around me.. even my own spouse," she said to herself.
"Someone like me should be dead."
Mark attempted to end his life by hanging themself, after Mark kicked the chair, Wallter quickly found them and rushed to grab some scissors and cut the rope, Mark fell to the floor with a thud. "WHAT THE FUCK, MARK!?" Wallter yelled, not in a nasty way, in a shocked and scared way. Mark breathed shakily, his eyes filled up with tears looking at Wallter who was holding the mannequin in his arms, Wallter looked back, visibly distraught and upset, "I'm going to call an ambulance." They said, reaching for their phone out of their pocket.
Mark was rushed to hospital, he woke up in a bed with a sobbing Wallter sitting next to them, Wallter held onto Mark's hand, squeezing it, "Thank god you are alive.." Mark just felt horrible.
Looking back, Mark wished he would have just died that day, but Wallter would have been depressed.
What if he just stayed in the mannequin hivemind? But they wouldn't have had any purporse, he wouldn't have discovered the outside world and its beauty, he wouldn't have befriended Jimmy, or met and married Wallter.
He just couldn't make up his mind. Life or death? Freedom for prison? Love or loneliness? Mark felt trapped.