Hans Larsson

"I did die." Rekker corrects as he fold himself up almost like a kid, sitting there in his knees. "Two..I don't know four times?" Sometimes Rekker had done things and woke up not knowing and feeling like he had. No one ever mentioned it because his doctors said it would be bad for him to know when he succeeded, might encourage him to try again.

"It isn't the world always." He admitted as he trembled. "I was born like this. Nothing happened. I've always wanted to die." That wasn't exactly true, clouded by Rekker's self hate. A lot of people had fed into his depression and his desire to just not exist. There was truth to it too though. He had been a kid the first time he experimented with trying to die. His eyes are on the fingers touching his shoes. He wants to pull away from being touched. He doesn't want to deal with what comes with being touched by someone else, not someone he might like being around. He wants to scream and buries his hands in his hair to hide himself.