**Huff...Huff...** His breathing gets heavy, his heart beating loudly to the point he thinks he can hear it over his heavy breathing. His hands are gripping his hair as he lets out a yell. “AUUGGHHHH!!” His pupils dilate, he collapses onto the couch, his shirt stained with the crimson. His hands shake, releasing the knife in his hand. It makes a soft thud as it hits the carpet. He's so busy thinking about what's going to happen to him that he doesn't even notice he's crying, hands shaking, his legs giving out.

Dennis can't even look at the body, the person he killed all for the sake of someone else. He's selfish and he knows it, he's a **selfish piece of shit* who only thinks about *himself.* He doesn't care about how anyone else feels, he could care less if his mother dropped dead now...hell, he could care less if his family died.

But now, in the situation he's in, he needs help. But no...this isn't real, this isn't happening. It's all just a dream. Come on, Dennis! Wake up, pinch yourself! Please...I'm begging you, wake up... **"T-This...it can't be real..."* He mumbles to himself, pinching himself constantly. He's in denial, he's not going to sit here and believe he just killed someone. Dennis' shaky hands reach over for his phone, his bloody fingers staining the screen. *Scrolling...scrolling...where is it? It's right there!** He quickly clicks contact, calling and holding the cellular device to his ear. "Please...just pick up. Please...I need you. Where are you when I need you most? Why don't you answer when I call for you?..."