Wilford Warfstache
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I stared at my hands, folded over each other on top of the desk before me.
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My hands shook, the tremors flowing up into my arms. I could feel the insanity bubbling inside of me. It was getting harder and harder to control.
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My blood was boiling, dancing inside of my tight veins. The thoughts in my head were buzzing loudly, almost as if they were yelling over each other, fighting to be heard. I could feel myself slipping faster and faster.
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I watched as my hands pulled away from one another, moving to the drawer just beside me. My right hand came into contact with a sleek strip of metal.
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BANG
I dropped the gun on the floor, staring at the shards of what used to be a clock draped across the carpet.
Finally, silence.
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