Jarod sat on a medium-sized chair made of pure ice, his back hunched over with his elbows resting on his knees as he cupped his face with his bloodied hands, his entire body shaking sporadically.
The ground around him was covered in frost, dead leaves with tiny droplets of blood scattered across them. Jarod ran his right hand through his snow-white hair, decorated with dark dried blood, revealing his face for a split second.
He was grinning.
"I told you," Mackerel said with a grin as he suddenly appeared behind the prince, placing his hands on the back of the chair made of ice. "But you never listen, do you?"
"Hehehehe," Jarod giggled uncontrollably as tears streamed down his face. It hurt. He was hurting so bad that it felt good, the weight in his chest and shoulders making his entire body and soul crack.
"A laughing mess," Mackerel spoke. "You can't even form a single thought without it drifting away."
