A Good Girl, Wrong Timing. {{Completed}}

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He sat there staring at the wall. Absolutely nothing but one thing on that wall and it is the image that he paints in his head. Like a daydream, he stares off and just imagines. Imagines what today would be like if they were alive and well. He refused to go on tour. He cant bring himself to it.

Hes spent endless second just clawing away at himself, trying to make himself okay. Locking himself up, seeing how long he can go before he goes limp. He grew scruff with a slight resemblance of certain actors. Hes absolutely horrible.

He is starving. He wants to die. If he cant have Charlie, no one can. And hes not one bit upset with that choice.

He got snapped out of his daydream by a voice. Charlie's voice. "Daniel, when will they be nice to me?" She asked. Before he could respond, he heard his own voice. "When they understand."

It was like a shot to the gut. He spun around and saw them talking. In Charlie's bed. Behind him.

Then, something else. Suddenly all the corners of the room were squeezing in. He couldnt take it from the endless voices and cramming, to the hate and suicide notes.

He screamed as he ran down the stairs, fumbling as he was drunk. "Ahh." He groaned as he opened the full "due for refill" bottle of xanax on the counter.  He was shaking and managed to spill it all over the floor.

Then, he fell. He fell on them, crying, scrambling and fumbling to pick them up. One by one, popping them in his mouth. He crawled up to the tap and started chewing them, and took some water with it.

He grinded his teeth in an attempt to swallow faster. He groaned and fell back, hitting his head on the ground.

That's the last thing he remembers.

Eh, at least he made it fast.