For you

'Please don't hurt yourself.'
The walls begged me in their noiseless scream as I tried to melt the plastic from reluctant blades.
'But why?' I asked. Hoping beneath my hate that they'd give an answer that could save me. My hands shook with each rough forced flame, the flicker no more violent than the storm within my chambers. I wanted to die, but death was terrifying. No monsters or ghosts could cause me to feel my bones within my skin the way I did that night. But when I pondered waking in the morning I felt vile - day was my phobia, the anticipation of continuing hours; such seemingly endless torture. The walls were so soft with their pleading for my safety, but they spoke mainly of how little people cared for me. I was 'weak, weak, weak' and they told me with every note of their silent orchestra. And I could not argue. So ever present were my snarling shadows, accompanied by only deafening isolation. Yet in that incoherent hiss I heard them call to me, entice something long sleeping dormant beneath the first few layers of my worn out skin.
'Please.' I heard myself beg; 'Give me a reason not to.'
The paint on the walls seemed to sigh with thought. Even my own demons had no reason to keep me.
'Because of your deposit.' they spoke. 'Blood stains us walls.' The controlled pitch of how I was offered this causation led me further into demise. But my walls were honest and I could not bicker with them anymore, no matter how afraid I was now i had no one left to protect me. The flames beckoned death, like a rattling cart with the devil at its bit. He'd known where to find me for a while. I felt him watching, but the souls he reaps must first be diced. Here I was, a sous-chef's fetish. Yet my mind was strong at first and took decades to die - my body however, mere seconds. Did I have a deposit? Yes. The walls could not lie. I asked them, with the last breath of my lungs that belonged to the living;
'What should I do?' They thought for a few stolen beats of my heart, their mind my mind and therefore their life as false.
'Hang yourself. Please, do it for us.' I smiled at the vacant beige of my room, so plain and ordinary. I envied the walls with their inanimate innocence.
'Okay.' I spoke with my neck in a noose. 'I'll do this for you.'