He lay on the floor, staring up at the white ceiling; a vague expression on his pale face. All around him the opaqueness of the room, the cool feeling of the black and white checkered tile, the sterile smell of antiseptic; it was so calming, like a hospital, except without the noise. This was Victor's comfort zone. This black and white room, void of all feeling and color except for one blood red rose.
"What should I do?" The words escaped Victor's dry lips almost reluctantly. His eyesight was hazy; everything blurred. He felt sick and weak. Victor stretched his arm to touch the one foreign thing in the room; a picture. He smile lazily, as a tear etched a path down his translucent cheek. His red hair looked so strange and striking against the almost lifeless color of his skin; even his usually bright teal eyes had dulled almost infinitesimally. It was his fault that Maria and Cio had gotten embroiled in this; Leon had a way of messing with peoples minds and getting them to doubt their convictions. Victor knew Leon was trying to push him to the limit; he knew that Leon was trying to get Victor to leave. A long sigh slowly pushed it's way out of Victor's mouth and sleep washed over him, maybe he'd just sleep forever. That'd be nice. . .
"ha ha ha ha hahahahahahahahahahAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHaheeheehehhehe ahhhhhhhhhh." Victor sat up and rubbed his forehead "What am I doing? This is pathetic!" He launched himself off the ground and walked to the window. Sometimes he never wanted to leave this room.