I stared at my reflection.

Pitiful.

My fingers ran over the dark circles, that surrounded my eyes.

Lack of sleep.

Stress.

The redness, of my eyes, was evidence, of another night I had spent…crying. How did I become so weak? I was ashamed of myself and what I had become. Looking in the mirror caused me more emotional pain, than I ever thought possible. I couldn’t stand the sight, of myself. My head jerked and my body reacted, to a strange noise. A clenched breath caught in my throat, as I slowly inched to the door. There it was again, I listened harder.

Fear.

It was a word that I had become accustomed to. Many nights spent crying, and huddled in a corner, were out of fear. It was silly, really. A grown man. Afraid? Of what? My eyes hazed over. Opening the door, I lunged at whatever was causing the frightful noise.

Embarrassment.

Add it to my list. My wife had caught me…again. She looked down, at me, with concern. I had just attacked the cat. All that noise…was from a cat. I hate it, when she sees me, like this. I was a man…I was supposed to be strong. But, I wasn’t, I was anything but that.

How did my life come to this?

I ask myself the same question, for the hundredth time, today. Beginning to shake, I look up. She shook her head and told me to ‘grow up’. I was a disappointment, as a man. Could I even call myself a man? I sure, as hell, didn’t feel like one!

Failure.

Now, that’s a word that described me well. I never used to be one. Just recently my life took a turn, for the worse. I had hit rock bottom and I couldn’t seem to pull myself back up. I tucked my legs under me and let my head fall, into my hands.

Pitiful.

There was that word again. It entered my mind, constantly, every day. It plagued me. It never left. My brain wouldn’t rest.

Stupid.

Childish.

More words entered my mind, as my shoulders shook. Each word described me well. At, least, they did now.

What has happened to me?

I used to be so strong! Now I was…I was…

Pathetic.

Is that the same, or worse than, pitiful? Either way, I knew it fit me well. Each word tore me apart, more. My emotions threatened to overtake me.

Depression.

I never knew that word. I never understood how badly it could tear someone apart. I was, indeed, depressed…deeply. It seemed to run my life, now. I used to be happy, but now, that seemed like a distant memory.

I can’t live like this!

It’s been two weeks, now. Only two weeks? Two weeks, of this, and I was ready for it to end.

Suicide.

The word had always disgusted me. It was wrong. The pure fact, that it entered my mind, sent me into another wave of shakes. My body shook fiercely. How could I think a thing like that? It made me even more of a…

Coward.

My heart couldn’t accept the horrible things that I had become. It was unbearable. My life was in shambles. My family suffered because of it.

Abuse.

Dear God! Was I abusing my family, by putting them through this kind of emotional stress? They had to deal with me! Surely, putting up with me could be considered an abuse. What kind of a human being was I? How could I make my family endure this kind of burden?

Neglect.

My eyebrows furrowed, as the realization hit me. I had been neglecting them, too! I wasn’t a fit husband, or father. I was a disgrace, to all men! How could I continue on, knowing I have become such a horrible person?

Turmoil.

I lived in it. I put my family through it. My friends were in the midst of it, too. Everyone tried to help, but all I did was cause more of it. It was wrong. I was wrong…for inflicting it.

Pain.

I felt is continuously. It wouldn’t go away. My heart ached. My body was weary, from exhaustion. I’ll never question it again. They were right, when they said that one person’s words can destroy another’s life. Mine was definitely destroyed.

Internet.

That’s how it all started. I dread computers, now.

Why did I read it?

NICK!!! He was the one who said it was fun! He told me about a board, of some kind. He took me to the site and let me look. He assured me that these people were nice. ‘They’re not crazed fans, like so many others.’ Well, I guess he got that right.

Honey.

Kelly.

The Kevin Killer.

She’s the reason for my break down. I read the journal that she had posted online. Oh the wild dreams she had, of killing me. Her words plagued me, day and night. At first I was just bothered by it and then…then, I started looking over my shoulders, looking to see if anyone was following me. Before I knew it, every little sound frightened me…that fear lead to so many other emotions, and now it was out of control.

“Nick is here.” I looked up, from my spot, on the floor. My wife was holding the door open, to allow the younger man in.

“Alright, Kev,” Nick came, to my side, and sat down.

Embarrassment.

More of it. Just what I needed. He was laughing at me. All these years, of being a father figure to him, and now he’s probably getting a kick out of seeing me, like this. I knew that, he thought, I was ridiculous. Maybe I was.

“I didn’t know you would get so torn up, over this, Kev,” Nick leaned down, to look me in the eyes. I turned away. “It’s called fan fiction. It’s not real. She doesn’t really want you dead.”

“Go away,” I pleaded, crying again.

“Come on, man. You can’t let a little story get you all upset. Look at you,” he wrapped his arms around me.

Comfort.

He tried to supply it. I fought it. I didn’t deserve it.

“Kev. Do you have ANY idea what fans have done to me, in their stories? They’ve given me cancer, made me lose legs, killed me, given me amnesia…and trust me, the list doesn’t end there.”

“Huh?” My confusion must have been evident. How could he deal with people wanting to do that to him? The sheer thought of a fan inflicting pain…

“They also make us fall in love, start families, save the world, give us super powers… Get it? They use us as characters in stories, for fun and because they love us. Come here…let me show you”

“NO!” I fought him, as he tried to pull me up.

“Don’t worry, I’ll only show you the ones where I get killed.” He snickered. See? I told you he was laughing at me! He dragged me to the computer. I dreaded that stupid thing!

Counseling.

Who knew I would be sitting in counseling, because of some dumb story? I can’t tell you how it got so bad, or why I let it affect me so badly. My counselor said that I must have been insecure, to begin with. Who knows? Maybe I was. Maybe I still am.

SHIT!

What was that?