''I- I- I'm fine, really, I am!'' He told himself, though the man in the mirror was not Sebastian Dognert, It was a shadow, a frame, an empty shell, bags underneath his grey, almost lifeless eyes told people he hadn't slept in over a week. He hadnt been able to, the anxiety attacks had deterred him from the bliss of unconsciousness. A glance at his watch, an heirloom of his family passed down for 5 generations rimmed with gold, the hands of the clock made of steel and the numbers wrote in roman numerals, told him that it was 7:40 pm, almost pickup time. He left his rundown, grimey bathroom and walked straight through his bedroom to his living room, he had no accessories no couch, or television, or a chair even. He had once though, but he had had to sell them, the need for money grew too large after losing his job. He didnt pin the loss of his job on his boss (Gabriel Fraften) but on himself, he had turned up late regularly, and been terrible at his job it was actually rather funny, he had been fired from McDonalds! He grabbed his jacket and slipped it over his back, left his flat and locked the door.
He jumped down the stairs 2 at a time, slowly a grin formed across his face. He never got happy or excited any more except now, 7:40 every thursday. Sebastian stopped dead in his tracks. he was happy, excited, that he was going to get some drugs. He had reached a new low, ''What a scumbag I am.'' he thought to himself. But the pity, and shame, didnt stop him walking, his mind and body were separated, his body needed another dose. His mind wanted to resist, he snapped back to reality and he was at the apartment complex's doors. He opened them and continued walking, he had about 4 blocks to go, it'd take him about 15 minutes. He walked past the bank, and there was a singer stood outside a bakery, singing a ... Terrible rendition of 'Locked out of heaven' by Bruno Mars, Sebastian hated that song. For a second, just a second, an image flashed through his head of throttling the man, his hands effortlessly clawing at his fingers as his hands crush the mans windpipe, his face goes blue and, nothing, the body goes limp. He becomes a dead weight. It wouldnt be the first time he had taken a life, oh no. It'd be the... Fourth? Does killing a pregnant woman count as two? Of course the 'bitch' deserved it. he didnt kill without reason. He continued walking, he witnessed a man and woman vigorously kissing on a green metal bench. he took no notice, he was done with relationships. His only girlfriend had left him after he had spent their money on heroin.
He took a sharp turn down a dark alley, he couldnt see a thing, but he had been down this route so many times he didnt need to see. He had reached a small clearing, lit only by a small sign for 'Joe's authentic Italian style diner' and he checked his watch, 7:57. 3 minutes, he always arrived on time. Every time he came here a little piece of the old, innocent, intellectual, funny Sebastian Dognert died, he didnt know what had come over him today but as he stood alone, in a ragged jacket and dirty jeans, he felt a tear roll down his cheek, he looked at his feet and hung his head in shame and just as the realisation dawned on him that life may not be worth living anymore, a deep voice erupted in front of him ''Hello there, Sebby.''
