"I'm going to kill you."
Good for you.
"I'll kill you for what you've done to me."
That wouldn't be wise.
"It's all your fault she left. You - filled her head with these stupid ideas, you turned her against me!"
He was sweating, sitting in a chair, clutching a kinife, ready to lash out at the man who had made his life hell.
You can't blame this on me. I can't speak the words that come out of your mouth.
"Yes, you can! You just did!"
It's all in your head, James. All in your head.
"Are you calling me mental?"
These insecurities, the false thoughts, the paranoia ... all in your head, James.
"Don't call me paranoid! I will kill you!"
"Shut up! Get out of my life. I don't want to see you ever again. I don't want to hear your stupid voice anymore."
You have an overactive imagination, James. I don't have a voice. I don't have a shape to see.
"Don't try and lie to me with your silly little riddles! I know your game! You're trying to shift the blame."
It is you who lie. You turned Chrissie away. You were the one who killed your brother. You were the one who told the lies.
"It was YOU!" screamed the man, standing up. "I'll kill you!"
Go ahead. Kill me now, James. Use the knife. Avenge yourself. Revenge for Chrissie's abandonment, your brother's treachery. Put yourself out of your misery.
* * *
That was the last thought James Lemming ever heard. He stabbed viciously with his knife, ending the stream of thoughts and memories that fought to escape his mind. Ending the mantra of blame and regret that had continued to chant in his head since Chrissie had left. James ended everything. He ended his life.