Sylas could do nothing but stare into this woman's lifeless eyes. It didn't seem real, as if he half expected her to gasp back from death and start screaming at him to get off her. And then he heard Len's boisterous and obnoxious hello, and that's when he feels himself break. He looks over at Len and the moment their eyes meet, Sylas begins to openly sob. His words are nearly incomprehensible as he babbles and chokes. "Oh God, oh God!" He's slapped with reality and seeing how much it broke and hurt Len, it devastated Sylas. He's shaking, almost violently as he continues to cry. Looking down at her, back up to Len. In his palm he still clutched those bloody scissors. His entire hands were red, his white graphic. Even his black jeans were soaked in this woman's blood.

It was a mess. It was sprayed all over the floor, the couch, himself.

As Len made his way over, Sylas finally climbs off of her, resting his back against the couch. He didn't even have any strength to get up off the floor and actually sit on the couch itself. He pulls his knees up his chest, wrapping his arms around them, his left hand grabbing the wrist of the right that still held that bloody instrument of his guilt. He buries his face into his knees. "I'm sorry! I'm so fucking sorry!" But why was he sorry? Was he sorry he got caught? How!? WE'RE FUCKED! Len's words hit hard. They repeat over and over inside his head. He hears him scramble to the trash to immediately begin throwing up. Mustering what little strength Sylas had, he lifts himself up. WE'RE FUCKED! He's almost manic now. Still sobbing, he sounds almost demented and crazy, "Len, listen!" His voice is weak however and cracking the whole time. "I-I-I can fix this!"

He moves over to the table from which he had grabbed the scissors, and violently throws everything off it onto the floor. He picks up a plate, smashing it against one of the mirrors. "She, she ... she attacked me! She was a crazy fucking bitch! Obsessed with me!" He's talking out loud as he continues to trash the room, attempting to make it look like there was a fight and a struggle. He's still crying, "She just wouldn't stop screaming, Len. She just wouldn't fucking-," He stops in the middle of the room, hanging his head and beginning another gross crying session. "SHE WOULDN'T STOP SCREAMING!" His tone is almost demonic. So full of anger and guilt.

In a moment of weakness he looks over at Len, and knowing the man he loved so deeply was seeing him like this, well, it damn near made Sylas want to fucking die. He's completely consumed by anger and confusion and sadness. These emotions were drowning him. Never in his life had he felt emotions so profoundly and intensely. No, they weren't drowning him ... they were cutting him into a thousand pieces as he begged for it to stop. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Please...Please...." Sylas hangs his head again, and he sees he's still holding those scissors. This is when his crying slows ... it nearly stops.

Len could have been talking, or coming up to him, but Sylas didn't notice. He stared at the bloody thing in his hand, as if in some trance. Terrible thoughts cross his mind, horrible things and then he folds his lips inward, knowing what needed to be done. Calmly, but still very full of sorrow, he says, "She-She tried to kill me, Len. Okay?" He looks up, to make eye contact with Len again, "I'm so sorry." Swiftly, with both hands, he turns the scissors inward and aims them at his chest, attempting to stab his own heart. He gasps loudly, like some idiot surprised at how much it hurt and at the fact he missed his heart entirely, before he collapses to the floor. Sylas had tried to honestly kill himself and failed. What hurt worse? What he's done to them, or the fact he failed?