Weird dusk

I can't make much noise. I can't break anything, nor can I hit anything. They will get worried. And then they are going to speak and I don't want them speaking so I can't do these things ok?
Why...?
They'll bore me. It's bad.
As bad as holding yourself...?
Maybe worse.


- You see I'm the one drinking and watching. I see your blood all splattered. AWHAHAHAHA.
- Quit soda, freak.
- I'm not quitting.
The man lying in the floor with only his upper body raises his hand toward the one sitting in the chair near the laptop. Blood flows from the torso of the lying man, he'll be dead soon. The bedroom is filled with blood. A pair of sneakers is standing at the small blood pool.
- Don't you like these guys?
- You... sick... fuck...
The man sitting on the chair kicks the bleeding man in the face, he moans and falls. He can't hold it anymore. The arm that was pointing to the chair goes to the floor with a splash of blood. The man in the chair headbangs to the sound of Paranoid. His laughter is shrill and demented.
- 4 a.m... gotta sleep man!
He cranks the volume and gets out of the chair. He steps on the dead man's head, the movement makes some noise like bubbles bursting. He then lies on his bed and sleeps. The same song repeating through the dark night.