70s
His head split again. Blood fell down, drip, drip, drip one drop at a time, always faster and faster and faster-
He looked up.
A monster. That's what he looked like. Blood was streaming down, further and further down until he couldn't see it anymore, didn't want to see it anymore, and it wasn't drops anymore, it was faster and faster and faster and kept going down and didn't stop no matter how long he looked at it and it hurt so, so badly, and he couldn't do anything because his hands were already gripping his hair, almost tearing it down, down, down and splitting his head apart more and more until it was sure to kill him even though he knew it couldn't happen, of course not, but for a moment he found himself thinking that perhaps it wouldn't be so bad, perhaps it would help, perhaps it would make it better, and he knew then.
He knew he had fallen far too low.
