I gasp, and fall to the ground. I can still hear them, somewhere in the back of my mind. I clutch at my head, willing for my ears to no longer hear, no longer take in the horror and the release the pain.
It had been moments before where I shattered you, shattered you into a million pieces. You are gone, but I can still hear your voice, along with them.
I stare down at the crushed glass scattered all around me. I can see your face in every single one of those shards, staring at me with those big eyes, telling me that it isn't my fault, isn't me.
"Shut up." I say to you in a small voice. I sound weak and helpless. I feel weak and helpless, and I hate that.
They're at it again, louder this time. I can't take it anymore, I need some way to escape, now.
I stare down, my head pounding, back at the meadow of shattered glass surrounding me – and I see your big eyes staring up at me from every little broken part of the now gone mirror.
I reach down to pick up a piece of your abode and hold it in my hand, studying it, feeling it in my hands. I cover the shard, hoping to be able to cover your face, and those eyes. You disappear behind my sweaty hand, but the rest or your shining faces, glowing eyes, from those other shards, do not leave me alone.
"Ouch." I exclaim. I pull my hand back, blood is streaming down from the palm of my hand. Your face now looks worried, as if you know what is running through my head at this very second.
I hear them screaming, and I know it's about me. I hear you whispering "No, don't do this." I hear you all, and I point the glass down, the point towards my wrist and lower you towards my arm.
Your presents always did cut me.