He had never felt this way before… like his mind was going in circles, too fast to make out the voices. They all told him the same thing;”it's all a lie.” He cried out in pain, begging for the voices to leave him be… begging for her… He was left consumed by his mind, slowly fading into the void. Only she could bring him back, only she could save him. But she had forsaken him, she had left him alone with his thoughts. Something she promised she would never do, for when he was left alone too long he went insane. He was slowly losing his sanity, each memory became more painful than the last. Each voice was like a knife piercing his skin. He could take it no longer… he gave in to the voices. He believed them, the voices were him… weren't they? He had no choice but to listen, they told him to paint a portrait. They told him he was the canvas, they gave him a piece of silver to use as a brush. He didn't want to do it, but the voices convinced him he needed to. So he did, he painted himself, he painted his thoughts, he painted his emotions. By the time he was done there was nothing but a ruined canvas, torn apart, destroyed. She found him moments later, she saw the canvas and there was a note on the ground, “you promised.” it was written in the same paint, with the same brush. You promised.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.