Due to the graphic nature of this fictional piece, I strongly suggest you don't read this. In fact, I need to stop writing. This is going nowhere.
The pain was less than he imagined, but greater than expected. Nothing he did every worked right, he managed to acre up even the simplest of tasks. His curse, one of many. He just didn't fit in, and wasn't accepted. None of that really mattered anymore.
The water was warm, the right temperature. Everything had been prepared, down to the last detail. You couldn't really leave something like this to chance. He tried to sit back and relax, but it was taking too long. He should have anticipated this. Should have planned for it. Too late now.
He thought about all the decisions that brought him here. The choices, mostly wrong, the people, who he hurt without meaning. He never meant any harm. Just nothing ever went right. He could have given up years ago, but he kept after it, assuming he would eventually get it right. Assumption. Because here he was, screwing it up again.
He knew he was a disappointment. He could tell in people's faces. He could tell he was a failure, no one had to say anything. He had tried hard, people knew that. It simply wasn't enough. It would never be enough, he could never be anything other than what he was.
This was simply taking too long. He had done it right, but it was taking too long. Simply too much time. He didn't want to be thinking about the reasons why, he just wanted it done. He wanted the sweet peace of oblivion that awaited. He just wanted to die in peace.
He looked down at the red water, it would soon be done. He would soon be free.
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