"Basil." The word was quiet. It was gentle. It was soft. It was sweet. It was everything Sunny thought he should be. But he wasn't. He was cold. He was angry. He was covered in thorns he cut off but they kept coming back again and again. He cut them off just like he cut them off. His friends. The people he was supposed to care about the most. The people he needed to comfort him after Mari- No. He wasn't going to go down that spiral again. The spiral that kept creeping back to him, beckoning him to fall. To fall. To fall further into his hatred of the world and his own foolish self-loathing. He doesn't want to go back. He hates it in that spiral. Sunny was a victim of his own making. He did it. He pushed Mari.* He killed her. He doesn't want to hurt anyone, truly. He never wanted that. But he pushed everyone away. As far away as he could. Sunny never liked being alone, and he knew Basil hated it even more than he did. So he felt awful, terrible for leaving Basil alone. He never wanted to leave him alone like that again. He wanted to scream, to cry, to beg. He remembers his Sunday school. He remembers his pastor telling him to always be there for his friends. And he feels guilty. He wants to say all of this to Basil. He loves Basil. He loves all of his friends. He loves Basil. But instead...

"How are you feeling?"

Pathetic.