Rocksville

The lone silhouette tried to calm his ragged breathing, but only managed to turn them into shaky breaths. He tried lifting his gaze off his axe, but the same part in his head that had urged him to swing, to cut, to strike, to slash, and sometimes to stab, wouldn't let him.

No, he could calm down on his own.

Stop it. Stop staring at it.

STOP IT!

Stop! Please!

He-he could...do it on his own.

He didn't need comfort.

This was pathetic.