(Readers are strongly recommended 17+)

          Another miserable, distraught day. That seems to be the story of my life. No matter what I do, no matter how hard I try, I'm always so, so unhappy. 

          I park my car and get out, thanking God himself that I'm off my shift of work. As I walk up to the porch, feeling bitter like every day, I feel some relief knowing that I have a drink or two, and just be alone to get away from the world.

          Upon entering my cold, lonely house, I make my way down to the basement to grab a few beers, nice and chilly in the fridge. I wouldn't wish this feeling upon my worst enemy. I remember the days I was so fun and happy to be around, years and years ago. I had many friends...made people laugh...entertained everyone with my humour. Just a young, innocent guy, living his life to the fullest. Man, I was such a cool person, or at least that's what people told me, excelling in multiple different sports and winning awards. People told me how much they loved being around me, and now I'm the polar opposite, miserable all day.

          I enter the basement, ready to grab my beers and get fucked up like I do every night, when I see someone sitting there in the corner, chained up to a chair. What on earth is going on here? Who is this person trapped down in my cold basement all alone? 

          Feeling fearful, and, most of all shocked, I start slowly making my way over to the trapped prisoner, a bag tied over their head. A chill runs down my spine with every step that I take closer to this individual.

          "Hello?" I ask with an anxious tone. I'm literally so confused. How on earth did this person get down here? What are they doing in my house? And more importantly, why are they chained up to the chair? 

          So, being the edgy person I am, I slowly take the bag off their head, and I'm absolutely shocked. I cannot believe this. It's...me.

          I look down at the familiar face I've come to absolutely loath after all these years. How is this possible? Am I dreaming right now? I blink a few times in an attempt to wake myself up from this bizarre nightmare, but he's still there when I open my eyes. He's smiling at me now, but I know he's smiling because he loves to torture me. He loves making my life an absolute living hell, and I hate him with everything inside my heart.

          "You," I mumble under my breath with anger, gritting my teeth at just the sight of him. "How could you do this to me?"

          Seeing him continue to laugh and not acknowledge my words absolutely infuriates me. I know he won't listen. He never did, especially when people gave him advice on how to improve his life, but his ego wouldn't let him try to make positive changes to his world. A world in which he created for himself—no one else. 

          Right then, resting over by my workbench, I see a wrench laying there. I slowly reach for it, my hand wrapping around the handle and clenching it with hatred towards the person sitting in front of me.

          "I'm gonna give you one more chance," I whisper, letting him know I'm not messing around.

          But he keeps laughing, even harder now, knowing he's getting me all worked up.

          And that's it...I've had more than enough.

          Crack!

          I swing the wrench as hard as I can, feeling it collide with his jaw and breaking it right on impact.

          "Answer me!" I shout.

          Even with the blood trickling down his face, he's still laughing.

          I swing the wrench again, this time crushing it across his skull. I've finally come to the realization that it's nobody's fault but his. Nobody forced him to take drugs...nobody insisted he had to isolate...and nobody made him chose this unhappy, angry version of himself. It's all his fault, nobody else.

          "You ruined your own life," I say, feeling sick to my stomach just looking at him. 

          I keep hitting him over and over with the wrench, letting him know how I really feel. Despite the horrid pain I keep putting him through, he laughs harder.

          After what seems like forever, now exhausted from all the energy I took out on him, I finally stop. I pant desperately, as now he's laying on the floor, still chained up and covered in blood, the force of me knocking him over to the ground. I slowly and gradually lay myself down beside him, sitting in a spooning position, watching him take his last few breaths of life. I run my hands through his hair, seeing him slowly closing his eyes, and drifting off into a place he'll finally be at peace.

          And it's not until then I'm able to whisper the words, "I love you."