I'm just a normal boy, that sank when I fell overboard...

Perhaps it was all the cruel, judging eyes on his back, watching him fail. Sitting and watching him sink without batting an eyelash, apathetic expressions as he drowns in his own flaws and complications. Even those who were meant to encourage, who reached out firm hands to him, to pull him from the quick sinking desperation of his own self depreciation used his garbled, filmy sight to dunk him back into his low self esteem and confidence. He always came back up with a thin layer of hate and discouragement; exactly what they wanted.

'The little fuck needs a backbone, man. He's my... friend, or whatever, but seriously...' (Agreed.) 'It's pathetic.' (Wholeheartedly.) 'He can't do anything properly, in order.' (Of course he can't. Look at him.) 'Shall I dispose of him, sir?' (I'm sure he'll destroy himself.) 'Might as well feed him to Cerebrus.' (He'd run. Told you.) 'Or that little brat who's in our way.' (...Ahh.)

He did destroy himself, although it was too late for late. He would've begged them not to send them if he any energy left to do so. Instead he sat like a marionette with sliced strings, stared ahead, all jagged nods as the other tried not to look notamused. He was completely and throughly decimated on the inside, a battle of beaten wits and broken nonhopes. He is broken and bruised thoughly, absolutly nothing left. The situation is left in complete dispair, he turns to breath deeply, eyes closed and soul bleeding, throat hitching. This is last chance, now he will be what they wanted him to be.

The lighthouse beam has just run out.

I'm cold.