Warning
The following contains dark references, blood, and negative material

Iago opened his eyes and immediately closed them again. His bedroom window was positioned just so that the morning sun, at around six-thirty in the morning when it was halfway through spring, managed to smack him right in the face. He groaned, turning over and throwing a pillow at the window, knocking the curtain down from where it was hanging and darkening the room via the blackout blinds. He laughed at the luck he had, rolling onto his back and staring at the ceiling. Sometimes he couldn't remember having moved and was always a little surprised by the pale, eggshell-white ceiling above him as opposed to a beige, water-spotted one. He'd moved from that apartment three years ago because just the sight of that awful color and texture made his chest tighten and his throat close up. Too many memories within those walls. Memories he was told time and again that he just needed to let go, but couldn't. Not fully, at least.

He turned over onto his side and sat up, grinding his teeth as he bent his right knee, rubbing it slowly. The grinding sensation, the daggers that flew up and down his leg, was just another memory, but one he could handle. He stood and stretched, making his way around the bed and shaking the stiffness out of his leg as he walked. Pulling open the door to his bedroom, Iago was met with a cool burst of air. Always the silence, the stillness. He was told he needed a pet, but didn't feel it would be fair to the poor thing if he were gone too long. So the silence was just something he had to deal with until he could get the hell out of his apartment and into work. He'd been welcomed back to the police department a couple years back, and was glad for that. It let him focus on something that wasn't his crumbled life. Breathing out in a half-sigh, he slid into his bathroom and started a hot shower. It was too warm for one, normally, but his aching knee would thank him with a bit of relief throughout the day. After he got moving, it wouldn't hurt much anymore.

He spent nearly half an hour under the hot spray, wondering if he could open his mouth and just drown himself like wild turkeys were rumored to do during rainfalls. He doubted it, so he got out and dried himself, tying a towel around his waist as he left his bathroom and padded to the kitchen. It was open to the living room, and everything was dark tinted, wood and beige tones that were easy on the eyes while being contemporary and updated. He started strong coffee through the coffee maker and absentmindedly put a spoon in his mouth to keep occupied as he busied his idle hands by making breakfast. If he remembered correctly, all he really had to do today was paperwork. And paperwork was mind-numbing. He rolled his eyes, biting down on the spoon in his mouth as he cracked eggs and stared at the front door as if it would suddenly open.