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Summary
Maybe he was desperate. Maybe he was touch-starved. Maybe he did crave some love, just a bit of affection. Maybe he did want someone to love him. Just to hold him. Just a shoulder to cry on. That's it.But was it necessary? No. Did he deserve it? No.With his own two fucking hands did he kill him. The one person. The shoulder he had to cry on, the small but of affection he had. The bit of love, the most care he had ever gotten. All gone. Because of him. He did it. It's his fault. What's to say he won't do it again? That he won't end up killing them again? He's a god damned murderer. It's his job to kill people.BASICALLY, I took the words "And then they were roommates" way too literally.
Contents 2 chapters
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