Karkat ought to hear him coming. The Initiate is by no means small, after all. But he's too caught up in his own misery to notice. His face is grubby with red tearstains. He knows he'll just see Cuthbert on the other side of death, that it's stupid to cry but Cuthbert died, right there in front of him, while he was too slow to stop it.

Murdering Sherlock in revenge ought to have made him feel better about it--he'd had six sweeps of troll television and cinema to give him that impression--but it hadn't really, not at all.

He was such a useless piece of shit. A useless weepy piece of shit, fuck.