Silence.

What I had thought to be my most favorite sound.

After the loud scuffling of Zaila and Calik leaving me to die in a worthless ball of pain and suffering, there was silence.

Silence used to be my favorite sound because it left you to be in your thoughts. But that's the exact reason I hate it so much now.

My thoughts used to be filled of hope, and joy. Now, they are poisoned with thoughts of my inevitable death, of betrayal of trust, of once-sweet memories of what I used to have turned sour.

I'm dying.

I'm dying in this house.

I'm dying in the house of the ones that let me die.

I'm dying in the house of the ones that betrayed me.

I'm dying in the house of the ones that let me die.

I'm dying in this house.

I'm dying.

It looped like a broken record in my mind, never quite sinking in properly.

It would hit like a slap.

I could say it over and over and over in my mind, but I never truly could quite believe it.

I attempted to roll over onto my back. 

I wouldn't be able to go anywhere, not with how Zaila ruined my knee.

I'm so useless here.

I don't want anymore pity.

Just let me die here.

If one couldn't save themselves even once, they didn't deserve to be saved ever.

I was never able to save myself. My father built the city to save me from society, because I couldn't do it myself. I was a beggar on the streets, because I couldn't make money myself. I was saved from the falling city by Adyson, because I couldn't do it myself. I was protected from Zaila by Nicholis and Adyson, because I couldn't do it myself. 

I lived off of other's pity towards me. I had been told this before, but only from reflecting on my life as I lied dying did I realize it.

I deserved this. I deserved death. And Zaila was the only one who didn't pity me, the only one who could give me what I so completely deserved.

In fact, I should've been dead a long time ago.

Had my father never built an entire city, I would be dead.

Had I never even been born, my mother would be alive, my father never wouldn't married Zaila, my father would be alive.

They'd be alive and happy if I wasn't here.

Things would be way better, for everyone who ever met me, because all I ever did was drag people down with me.

That is why I hate the silence.

Where is the door? The door, the door, the door...

Dying in the sunlight would be better than dying in the dust, I guess. I started crawling, dragging myself across the floor, wincing in pain.

Everything hurt. I didn't even know where the door was, let alone how to open it. What was I even thinking?

I just stopped trying.

I was done. I knew I wasn't going to be able to do anything, so why bother trying?

I wasn't even scared.

It was gonna take me a long time to die. That was the only thing I had a problem with. I wish I could die, right now.

I couldn't handle weeks more of lying in pain on the floor.

And it seems I didn't have to...

I heard glass shattering, and something leaping through the window that they just broke. I'd bet anything they were gonna kill me when they saw me lying on the floor.

And I didn't even know who, or what, it was.