Jayson sat on his desk. Recalling all of his memories, from previous days. He recalled Holly, and the way she smiled at him, how it made him go crazy. He recalled Kiley, and what they had done. The utter regret he had felt about the whole thing. With both of them. Who had he become? Jayson was no longer the self proclaimed anarchist that he once had strived to become. He'd become a monster.
He stood up, and slowly made his way to his chair. It was times like these that he hated being himself. He leaned back in his chair, and his eyes locked on the top right drawer of his desk. Knowing what was inside, but not letting himself open it. He closed his eyes tightly, causing him to see a burst of colors, green, black, and red. He told himself, I'm not going to do it. I'm not going to give in again. But he did.
Jayson shot up in his chair, and lunged for the desk drawer, pulling out a hollowed out book, containing a needle, filled with heroin. He held it in his hands, as if it were a child, staring down at it, his eyes widened with the hope of feeling no more pain. Feeling no more regret.
Leaning back in his chair, he rolled up his sleeve, and injected the needle's contents in his arm. He sighed, feeling his muscles suddenly relax. He slipped lower into his chair. Once again, he hated himself.
A few minutes passed, and Jayson still had those feelings of regret, and angst. He knew what he had to do. Jayson had to let go. He stood up, his head still spinning from the drug. Slowly, he walked over to a cabinet near the door. Opening the door to the cabinet, Jayson felt tears begin to roll down his cheeks. Noticing a small picture on the bottom of the cabinet floor. It was his sister, Izzy. He wanted to stop right then, but continued to go on, slipping the photo into his pocket. He grabbed a rope, tying it into a hangman's noose. Jayson walked over to the chair that was in front of his desk. Standing on it, he tied the rope to a beam, across his ceiling. Jayson noticed himself quickly in the mirror, and jumped, startled by his own reflection. He laughed, a melancholy laugh, and continued tying the rope. Once it was all set, he slipped his neck into the rope, still entranced by the mirror, and his own image of death staring him in the face.
Well, I guess this is the end of the road, Jayson thought to himself. He took the photo out of his pocket, and held it in his hand tightly. Looking down at it, one of his tears fell down, and slid onto the picture, distorting his face in the image. "I'm sorry." He said, thinking of his sister. Without a breath, Jayson kicked the chair out from underneath himself. He felt the rope tighten firmly around his neck, he stared at the mirror, watching his own face turn blue, and then.......his eyes slowly closed, as the picture fell gently to the ground below. He was gone.

Harshing walked down the corridor, some important ministry papers under his arm. He walked into Jayson's office.

"Ah yes- you really ought to get your paper work done--"

He dropped the papers all over the floor and observed his hanging body. Quicker than a human could see, Harhsing whipped out his wand and broke the rope from his neck.

"Jayson?" Harshing knelt beside the fallen body and touched the rope, a thousand dark edged thoughts with each fibre.

"Alas - A true slytherin, alas what the world does, and alas another life doused."

He sighed, and stood up, looking at the needles. He boxed them up inside the book and placed them under his arm, for use later. He took what ever else he found before removing traces of himself and locking the door. He continued down the corridor.