I called him. he didn't answer.
Something is wrong. I know it, I can feel it.
his light is on; it is bright, very bright. I opened the door.
I feel a cold draft coming at me.
It feels like 10 degrees. I see him zoning out. he has a smile on his face. I wonder why.
The window is wide open, there is snow on the ground. I saw terror in his eyes.
I start to smell blood. Maybe I could have smelt blood when I came in to his room but was too distracted on looking for him.
I see the cats liking his wrist. I wonder why. I see blood on the floor, in a puddle next to him.
Am I too late? Will he survive? Why did he do this? I can’t think.
I was disturbed by the way he laugh and laugh at the pain. Even though he is laughing, you could see the terror in his eyes.
