Authors Note: Different from my usual style but, eh. Hope you like.
Disclaimer: I own jack all.

Evidently, it was all just a big waste of time.

("Fuck me," she hissed.
He had no problems doing that- it was his specialty, after all.
Then came the shedding of the clothes and the pressing of flesh.
"Say my name," he commanded, her nails gliding over his back and digging in. Not one did he wince. Real men showed no weakness. Now, he felt the need for control.
"Say my name."
And so Marissa did.
Crying it out as she came, over and over and over...)

Scared. Fear. Paralyzing. Committment.

Someone wanted you.

So?

You threw it away.

(Hot sweaty bodies, rolling around as one.
"Mmm, yeah, Marissa."
"Who's Marissa?"
Shit. Look the redhead in the eye.
"I meant..."
What's her name?
Shit. Just play it cool.
"Nevermind, babe.")

You'd call her a conquest if you were in the mood for denial. But after hours and hours of nothing but denial, nothing but the thought of her fucking you and fucking Ryan, you were in a stage that bypassed denial.

Next stage: anger.

But there's no one to blame but yourself. You're the one who slept with countless other chicks while dating her.

First good thing you had in ever and you ruined it. Threw it away. You've established this already, remember?

Time for a light.

(And another... and another.
Soon, you're nothing but another pathetic loser chainsmoking.
One. Two. Three.
Smoke fills your lungs but it makes your hands stop shaking.
Four. Five.
"Volchok?"
Six.
"What?"
Seven.
"What's wrong?"
Eight.
Too much to explain. And so, you keep your mouth shut. As if opening it will have any valid point.)

Did you love her? God, no.

She was just another bitch who was willing to strip her clothes off and scream your name.

So what if she thought there was something good in you? She was wrong.

Stupid bitch. Good fuck. All that she was good for.

(Liar. Liar. Liar.
Since when did the voices in his mind act up?
i Shut up. /i
Liar. Liar. Liar.
i Shut up! /i
Liar. Liar. Liar.
i SHUT THE FUCK UP. /i
Objects are flung across the room and blood is shed but it's yours.

Bloody hands.

Broken glass.

You were too lazy to wash it anyway.)

Love. Fuck. Was that what it was?

Took you long enough. And now... you had to talk to her.

Shutting me out. Don't shut me out, God, Marissa, I just need five minutes..

(Wake up.
Remember nothing.

Hospital, pounding mind, scratches and cuts and bruises everywhere.
Cast.
What the i fuck? /i
"Where's Marissa?"
"You mean you don't know?"
"Obviously fucking not."
"You...")

Hit her. Fucking crashed into her. Bang, crash, explode. Heather's in a coma, Ryan's okay but Marissa...

Is dead.

You killed her.

Fucked her, yes.
Cheated on her, yes.

Loved her... yes.

But killed her?

(Nine cigarettes.
Ten.
Jail, jail, jail.

You just wanted to talk to her..
"C'mere, Volchok."

Just wanted to tell her that.
"Leave me alone."
Killed her.
Eleven, twelve, thirteen.
Jail, jail, jail.)

Nothing left.

Just a waste of time.

I love you.

Waste of words.

Mirror.

Waste of skin.

I love you.

Too late.

Marissa.

Beautiful. Funny. Smart.

Dead.

You.

Killer.

Just a waste of time.

Waste of words.

Waste of skin.