I sat alone on my bed, brooding in the semi-darkness of my bedroom. I was a mess, mentally, emotionally and physically, but now I knew why. For twenty two years I have been forced to suppress everything, every little thing until it all formed a vast knotted blackened fire in my soul, a dense burning vat of thick molten lava in my chest. Overcome by years of repressed rage and despair, my body and mind began to break down and this is why I became like I was. I began to search for a solution, some way of purging myself of this unbearable burden, and in the course of my research I became aware of the role of the body's energies in emotional problems. It was then that a possible solution struck me.

It occurred to me that there must be some way of manipulating the body's energies, and therefore that there was a way to transfer my unwanted blackened energy elsewhere, thus freeing myself forever from the shackles it brought upon me. For months I experimented, until my entire bedroom was absolutely awash with all kinds of gadgetry and coils made from strange metals. After six arduous months of tireless work I finally stumbled accross the answer and furiously began to build, and within a week it was finished - a machine with the secret power of controlling the body's energy.

However, this was not enough. Fundamental physics teaches us that energy cannot be destroyed - once taken from my body I would need somewhere to put my dark, raging despair energy. I began researching frantically but nothing had been written on the subject, nothing like this had even been attempted before. I began thinking of the workings of electricity - one can store eletrical energy in a capacitor, so surely there must be a way to store natural bodily energy somehow. I began to wonder... a capacitor is made from conductive surfaces separated from one another. Surely any organic matter could conduct natural energy, so I needed to find something with several surfaces... or layers. What is organic with many layers?

Excitedly I ran into my fridge, frantically scrabbling at the vegetables until I found what it was I needed, the perfect capacitor for my grief - an onion! I ran back to my bedroom and plugged myself into the machine, placing the onion in the appropriate receptacle. As I switched the machine on I immediately started to feel utter relief as my drowning sadness and blistering rage were lifted away and pumped into the onion. There was a quiet hissing noise as the onion began steaming and shrinking slightly.

Within minutes it was over, and at that moment, the sun began to shine once more, I began to notice the songs of the birds and the gentle rustle of wind in the trees and the wonderful sound of rain falling outside. Life was not merely bearable now, it was actually enjoyable. This was a revelation; I had never even imagined anything could be this beautiful, let alone just living. I decided to keep the onion safe - I would never wish the misery it contained upon anyone else. I put it at the back of the larder where nobody would see it, the one remaining token of my dark past. Apart from the onion of wrath, however, everything was coming up roses; everyone noticed the change in me and I made many new friends.

One of my new friends was an incredible girl who had never suffered from the troubles I had, and I immediately fell in love with her innocence and outstanding beauty. I plucked up the courage to ask her out, and to my delight she agreed - we went out for several months and it wasn't long before she accepted my proposal of marriage. Life was almost perfect now, and I had everything I could ever ask for; freedom, contentment, and a wonderful fiancee.

I sat back, basking in my happiness. Just a few short months ago I would never have dreamed how good life could be. I sat and watched TV, although I wasn't really paying attention, absently eating my lunch as I revelled in the thoughts of my future. Suddenly I choked - I felt as if I was eating acid, but it was too late and I had instinctively swallowed. I felt a horrible burning pain tear through me as it went down and a wave of horror passed over me as the realisation of what had happened began to sink in.

She had been at my house to cook us a meal one night, sorting through my larder for ingredients; she must have found the onion and put it with the others. I felt horrible, there was no way she could have known... or was there? Was this an accident? I crawled painfully toward the stairs; I had to get to my machine fast, but the intensely concentrated emotional agony was burning cold through my body, like earthworms slithering through my veins. I felt life slipping away as I was overwhelmed by my own discarded despair, watching the world fade out in misery and doubt. Why did it have to end like this? What had it all been for? Was I a victim of a cold killer I thought loved me, or merely my own stupidity?

I could no longer move, and was only vaguely aware of the world around me as I lay shivering. Suddenly I heard a noise nearby and realised that someone was entering the house. I forced my eyes open and saw her face looking down at me, but my vision was blurred and obscured by tears. Was she crying? Or was she laughing? So many questions pounded at my mind as I lay dying next to her, but not one of them was answered. These were my last moments, the most horrendous I had ever experienced, as my shivering body was gradually stilled forever by the creeping blackness of death.

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