There were limits to Gary’s poor mental health. It wasn’t homicide that beckoned him, but suicide. It ran circles around his other thoughts, hiding in the cobwebs of his mind only to reappear in random games of peekaboo. Even when the urge was subdued, it was still there, its lulling call reminding him there was always a way out of this. It danced around each effort to up his serotonin, overpowering every brand of anti-depressants and mood stabilizers medical science could offer. Suicide was his one true relief, the last-ditch hope for stillness.
