The sky was dark and the grey clouds covered the dim sun, making the world around him seem so much more terrifying. He knelt on both knees, his head clutched in his hands. He screamed loud; the wind pounded against his skull and whipped his hair mercilessly around his face. The grass was brown and decaying; the flowers were dead and the trees were bare. He cried out again, hoping that maybe someone would hear him. The chances were slim; he was so far away from any home that he might as well have been non-existent, and no higher-being cared any longer about him.
There was a river near; the waves crashed against the shore and it thundered loud. There were no animals around; he was alone in this barren land, and he couldn't find a way out. His clothes were torn and tattered and his usually flawless skin was pale and scarred. The only possession he had was a long needle in his pocket containing some kind of drug that gave him a sense of powerless unfamiliarity and dull resignation.
He continued to scream as loud as he could, her voice growing quieter and his throat becoming hoarse and dry. The sky flashed with lightening and rain started to fall unforgiving, drenching his already cold body and clothes. The raindrops mixed with the tears that fell down his face and trickled into his mouth, the salty composition drying his throat and ruining his chances of escaping just that much more.
He was imprisoned by a monster; he hadn't seen it, but he could feel its impressionable and intimidating presence. It told him how to feel, think, and act. He had hurt so many he loved, slowly destroying their weak and fragile being. Humans were flawed, and the monster knew how to inflict maximum torment on one. It made him do horrible things, tearing apart the unlucky ones agonizingly slowly, until they begged him to end their pointless existence. He would break apart their self-image, their hopes, dreams, and everything that ever made them feel like who they were. There was nothing more terrible to a human being than not knowing what made them as they were.
The memories swam inside his head, eager to remind him of what he had done. He could hear the monster laughing at his broken conscience; he felt worthless, like maybe he was actually the monster. Maybe so many years of holding back the pain he felt had finally leaked through the cracks in his imagined indestructible walls. But all beings were flawed, and his walls were cracked, and he had finally collapsed.
The sky yelled in triumph as it watched him break, and the river crawled up to comfort him by offering its icy depths as solitude. The wind picked up speed and his thin body was knocked to the ground. He laid there, curled into a ball that made no promise of protection. He felt the monster behind him, clawing at his back and pulling at his hair. It taunted him, laughed at him. He took out the thin needle in his pocket and watched as it pierced his delicate skin, injecting the last of his drug. He could feel the warmth quickly wash over him, the dull pounding of something he couldn't quite describe hammered against his chest and he let out a final cry before finally succumbing to the monster inside him. It grabbed a hold of him with its sharp talons and pulled him close to it, cradling him and gently guiding him to her final destruction.
He slowly fell into his own death, unknown to an uncaring world and beaten by a monster created by himself.