Really? Chapter 4? I don't know what exactly this fanfiction is stimulating that gnarled enigma that you somehow call a brain, but this has to stop. Just stop… I think someone may have a serious problem.

Why? What keeps justifying to you that this pain needs to continue. Is hearing about the pain everyone feels—including my own—just so appealing to you that you don't want it to stop. Is it me? Am I just that irresistible to you? Communication may just be one-sided, but please, I need you to help me understand what is going on.

What needs in your life are you so deprived of that this would possibly satisfy? IT'S-A FANFICTION. I would ask what kind of decisions in your life has gotten you up until this point, but I am sure you probably have already asked yourself at night; either that or you should.

Did someone hurt you? Is this your pathetic way of receiving some sort of validation that your meaningless life or from a feeling of helplessness, and you need to feel that your actions are being recognized. Because let me tell you… they have. You have been the one solely in charge of the eternal pain and suffering that everyone involved in this story has experienced. You have made a red marble suffer the cruellest fate… how despicable of you might I add? And Tim… I don't really want to even talk about him. But something that you might not have considered is how you made me suffer. Thanks for that, by the way.

Let me draw it out for you because as far as I know, you were born without a brain or a moral compass. You probably sold it for drug money. That or used it to buy someone to be your friend for an hour—because no one wants to be beside a poor filthy sadistic child. If this isn't driven away by your toxic personality, I am sure you probably have one of those faces only a deranged mother could love; I don't know, I just have that feeling.

That aside, you probably haven't realized how this sounds on paper. I am only supposed to exist for so long, and I fill a specific goal in a story. My comfort zone has been violated and mocked by the likes of you—without even my consent more or less. How shameless of you. It's not like I am attracted to cruelty.

I know I am just a series of words on the screen for you, but isn't the reader and author is supposed to be a special bond? I thought that maybe you and I… I thought. You know what, just forget it… baka.

What now all mighty one? What could you want now? I already gave you another story—one more that you should have gotten. Do you want another? It's not like you are going to answer me anyway, so why do I even need to bother. Why do I still exist?

Still there? Fine. Whatever. Here's something more, I guess. I think I have given up all of the efforts I have been trying to put into this. Which was a lot, in case you couldn't guess? It really breaks my heart that this is all a story means to you. Just something that deserves to only serve your twisted needs. Not even thinking about how the characters or author might feel in the process. I have feelings. I have needs. You really are selfish.

...

Blue marble was going about his day like he normally did. One moment at a time. But something felt a little barren in the world table without a key resident.

While blue marble never truly had feelings for red marble because he was an inanimate object, you could say that he loved her. Not in the way that a particular reader loves to cause pain, but in the way that a marble would love a different coloured marble. Needless to say, Blue marble was depressed that you brutally killed his beloved.

If only he had the opportunity to exist beside her more. Perhaps to spent a little less time with yellow because yellow may have been a negative influence on him—he didn't want to talk about it, so stop thinking about it jerk. Now, of course, this thought will never come into reality; because of you.

Blue marble didn't have a choice on whether he was going to die or not, that was completely dependent on what the story has determined his future to be. This was probably not in his favour, as the story is being written by someone who is being manipulated by a clearly disturbed child.

Since Blue marble had no choice on the matter, he decided to take his life and jump into the abyss. This happened to be when Tim tipped over the machine. So it was not Tim who killed Blue, It was you.

He wondered whether he would see red marble again. Perhaps in some sort of heaven—a place you will never know whether it exists or not. He wondered what it meant to die if you were never alive in the first place; not only because he was an inanimate object, but because the choices and substance in his life were worthless. However, in the end, he didn't think about anything because he was a marble, so that's probably my interpretation of what he would actually think if he were alive. He thought of that too, which made him depressed. But as much pain as this depression could give him, it couldn't hurt him as much as you did.

And you killed him.

The end.

So yeah…. How did you like that? I wasn't trying to impress you or anything-probably because you are a terrible person incapable of being impressed with anything but yourself- but I think you should at least appreciate it. It's based on a true story after all. In addition, I think it accurately portrays the feeling of pain one gets when they experience a person who is truly selfish. Wouldn't you agree?

That's all I got for you. So if you don't mind. Just exit out of this fanfiction and don't even think about a chapter 5.

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