The earth started to move. I stood up from my chair and looked up. The chandelier in the dining room, swung with a rhythm, almost simultaneously with the clock. Tick-tock, tick-tock, it spoke. I watched with both eyes wide open, as lights fell and shattered. Bits and pieces of the glasses pierced through my layers of flesh. My blood flowed out like the water in a rushing river. The red ocean around me brought upon the pleasure I’ve been longing for. All the pain I’ve held in was finally released to the world. I no longer had to keep it in. It was first time I’ve ever felt so alive. I could hear my heartbeat, faster and faster. My remaining blood boiled with excitement, as I took pieces of the broken glass and stabbed myself. I’ve told the story almost a billion times. A story about how I got the trophy marked on my arms. A staggered line was shown, claiming its golden place. Interrupting my moments of glory, two nurses were talking behind the doors.
        “What’s he doing this time?” one asked.
        “He’s talking about that story again,” the other replied.
        “Again? But that scar,” the first continued.
        “Yes, isn’t there.”