He throws himself in work. 'cause if he's working he isn't thinking. At least not about the bad stuff. The dark thoughts don't have any room to exist.

It's nice.

His boss is trying to get him to take a break. No one would tell him, but he's failing miserably and Charles likes that. He know he shouldn't feel so good about other people's failure.

He still does.

Because his failure means Charles' victory. In a way that he can keep ignoring it till it fades.

The pain is still there so Charles does the only thing he knows to do, work harder.

He works and works until "Damn it Charles you'll kill yourself! Do you have a death wish?" And no he doesn't, but fuck he hates living.

Living means feeling.

Living means not sleeping.

He's not sleeping. He doesn't mention it. They will tell him he's crazy for stepping into a car anyway.

He is.

He just doesn't want to admit it. If he admits it it's true and when it's true he'll have to look for help.

He's not one to choose the easy way. He won't begin now.

He forces himself to talk.

"Fine I'll take a break"

He asks him why he does it and it's there. The cry for help.

He can't get it over his lips.

He's getting crazy. Has too much time to think, so the next day he's back, begging his boss to please, for the love of God, let him get back to work.

He does and suddenly he's on the floor.

Because he still doesn't fucking sleep and someone is standing over him, but it's all fuzzy and he needs help.

He needs help.

"I need help"

-

Will I ever whump someone else? The answer is probably not.