TomTord/TordTom Oneshots and eddsworld art

Guilt

angst

(Tom's POV)

Am I sad? Depressed? Maybe. Maybe that's what I could be. Guilty? Absolutely.

You'd think actually murdering someone would trigger more guilt. But the sheer fact of unknowing. The fact that you don't even know if you killed them crushes you like rubble from an explosion. It claws at you from the insides slowly, agonizingly tedious. It breaks you down. Not enough that it shatters you. Enough that you're on the brink. The brink of just giving up. Of just wanting to die so you could know.

I'm so close. So close to just cutting too deep one day. So close to putting a gun to my temple. Taking one too many pills to ease the pain. Sometimes not taking any at all to keep the imprint- the damage that he had left behind. The only trace of him I can keep.

Everything I manage to do returns back to the question. Did I kill him?

On one hand, I hope I did. He deserved it, did he not? A life for a life. Fair trade. He tried to kill me first.

Hopefully he died before the pain got too unbearable. Maybe, just maybe, he was spared from breaking into bits. Given mercy as a pity gift.

On the other hand, I really want him to be alive. I want to fall in front of him, beg him to forgive me, that the guilt and the pain is too much too much please just take it away save me save me savemesaveme help—

Would he forgive me then? Once I am finally at his feet, below him as he always wanted? Did he even want that of course he did but he called us his old friend his old friend he lied he lied heliedheliedhelied— He always lies.

I can't keep doing- I don't want to do this anymore. This is a game I never wanted to play. Something I never should've stepped foot in. But I didn't have a choice he dragged me in farther and farther and get me out please I just want to leave save me helpmejustletmegopleaseIpromiseI'llbegood good good—

Is it sick, twisted? Am I going insane from my own mind? Is he the only one with the key to release me from the chains of my thoughts? I need him. I want him. He just needs to say- to tell us that he's alive and well so that I can say I never should have shot the harpoon I never I never I miss him I miss him please come back I want you I need you I lov—

Everyday I delve farther into the pitch black depths of my mind, farther and farther. I fall deeper without realizing. It's so hard to climb back out. It's so much harder the next hundred times. I barely see light anymore. I barely see green and purple. They're gone. They left. Or was it I that left? No it was him he left he left with no explanation he left us us he left with my heart- he comes back back again old friend like old times old times comes back with my heart and shatters it in front of my eyes.

Eyes are the windows to the soul. How do you look through windows that aren't there? Do you search blindly in the dark until there's a small glimmer of a soul? Efforts in vain when that glimmer extinguishes right when you find it? Then you're trapped because you were foolish enough to go too far. Then you cry yourself dry at how useless you were, why do you think you could save yourself when you couldn't even save him?

I'm done. There can't be anymore for me. I've wrung out life and there's nothing left to salvage. He never called, never texted, never, never, never. I can only presume the worst. He's gone. He's gone because of me. I'm the one to blame. All my fault. And all the guilt comes crashing down.

I thought when I knew, the weight would be lifted. Not gone, just a bit lighter. Just a bit easier to hold. The phantoms that wrap around my head, in through my ears and out through my mouth, invading every inch and space possible. Maybe one could be taken away when I realized- when I knew. But no. They just multiplied, making my head more cramped, fuzzy, and stuffed. They close their claws tight on my throat, waiting for the perfect moment to snap. The weight just got heavier, dragging me down. Crushing my back and lungs.

The feeling of hot tears on my pale skin became familiar. The fake smile I've sewn on is so close to letting its stitches rip. I find comfort in the eye bags that tug and pull at my eyes, becoming darker and darker with each passing night.

Please come back. I'm begging you. I don't think I can take it anymore. I need you here with me. I want you there for me. I hate to admit it, but I miss you.

I love you.
I love you and I realized too late.

There's more. There's more to say, but the words will never leave my thoughts until he comes back. Maybe one day I'll see him again. One day I'll see you again.

Save me Tord.
Please.