He stares at himself in the reflection of a rectangular mirror. Tall and dark of skin and hair. His eyes were Brown-green the color of shit. He lifted a hand into view and slapped his belly in a way that over the years he had used to make others laugh. Now he stared at the small vibrations in his flesh.

He looked up and into his own eyes and smiled. The tips of his teeth showed and somehow he still looked empty. His eyes stared back at themselves with a deadness any corpse could mimic.

Slowly his left hand rose.

He had always been alone. Maybe not in the sense of people around him but inside. James had been a small boy when the first of his horrors revealed itself. This horror was in the shape of a man. This horror stood no more than five feet nine inches high and had a mustache and beard on his sun darkened skin. His lips held the butt of an almost burned down cigarette and a warm smile. His eyes held hunger.

The apartment was mostly clean. Only a few plates were left out with food growing hard on them. The dishes in the sink were only piled to the rim and not over it. The house smelled of cigarettes and man, but no rotting garbage. The air was free of bugs except for the fly trap that held thirty of forty on its length.

He led them into the living room and waved to the couch with a smile nodding for them to sit as he went to get them both drinks. When he came back his smile still sat plastered to his face like shit dried onto a bathroom wall at a rest-stop. His eyes looked them over very thoroughly. "You guys hungry?" His slight Hispanic accent added a little mystery to his smile.

The two boys nodded and turned back to the comic book they'd found on the coffee table. One of the boys was twelve and the other had just turned eleven. They were both a little overweight but not overly so. The younger scooted closer to his big brother and smiled as Kain turned the page after waiting for the last ten seconds. James turned his eyes to the pictures of the black and crimson cloaked man. In the far off kitchen not more than ten feet away they could hear the man mixing eggs and slicing things.

Soon Kain's belly rumbled and he went to investigate leaving James the sole holder of the comic. After a few minutes Kain returned with the older male right behind him. In their hands they held plates with omelets on them. Under one arm the man held bright red ketchup. Kain sat and without thought began to devour his omelet. James stared at him for a moment turning to smile at the man as he dug in as well.

His eyes were leaden and wouldn't respond when he tried to open them. The smells of cigarettes and ketchup tickled James' nose as he tried to wake fully. He could feel his legs dangling along with his arms. Swaying with a steady rhythm as he was carried.

He drifted in and out of consciousness.

The bed under him was soft and the fabric of the mattress tickled his cheek smelling strongly of sweat. James got one eye open just barely and saw a man adjusting his legs. Legs he could no longer really feel.

James looked at his body in the mirror. With his dead smile still on his lips he leaned over the mirror getting a better look at the dark circles under his eyes. His left hand touched his throat.

He stood in front of the group of boys as they pointed and laughed at the twisted limbs of the girl off to one side. Her warm brown eyes leaked tears as she searched each of their faces for some sign of remorse or pity. When she found nothing redeeming in their eyes she turned and hobbled away from them.

James felt something in his heart tear and he rushed around the group of boys to pace beside the deformed girl. "I'm James. Wanna be friends?"

The girl turned running her left hand over her cheek, the other arm stay curled against her body in a deformed claw. "Y-yeah," Her tongue couldn't move with the dexterity it had once had so her speech was slurred.

Over the next year they would be best friends. One the protector and confidant. The other slowly becoming less a friend and more a burden.

James saw the other boys playing and mourned his choice. He could have been one of them and leered at the girl making fun of her speech and deformities, he could have had more than one friend to share his thoughts. Deep inside he felt a growing resentment for his twisted friend. Inside himself he was struggling to stay with someone who he'd begun to despise.

I could have been normal. I could have friends and been able to play and laugh with them. Another stray thought entered his mind then. Cynthia would have been alone then, would you have let her suffer in the way you can't imagine just to have friends?

I am nothing. When they find me they'll not even cry. No one will miss me. I'm shit. No one could love me I am alone and will always be alone. If there is a hell it can't be worse than here right? Tears began to coat the skin under his eyes tingling in a way that made his fingers twitch. My life is empty. I have on one. There is nothing for me here. Slowly a resolute smile settled on his face finally giving it some emotion. No one will miss what they never wanted. No one will cry for someone they never spoke to. They never bothered to say hello, or to hold a door. To them I am some fucking monster and it's true I am. His hand steadied and his smile vanished as he concentrated.

The puncture was shallow but it served. James' hand sprang away from the knife with a hiss as a spray of red covered his mirror and a river of red fell into and down the drain. His eyes grew dark with the sudden drop in blood pressure and he was falling.

When he could focus again he saw his blood mixing with water from the sink. The colors swirling and sinking into the darkness of the drain. Blackness took over his sight again. There was nothing, no more light.