He goes to bed. His room is dark, calm, silent. Still the sounds bounce around in his skull. Never dying, there for eternity echoing in his mind.
He gets up and heads to his study. The sound of creaking floors and doors merge with the insistent sounds in his head.
He slides open the drawer of a desk wincing at the scraping sound. He takes out the gun and loads it. The sound of the bullets falling into the chamber are each an ear splitting explosion of noise reverbrating forever in his cranium.
He puts the gun to his head. He pulls the trigger and everything goes silent.