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Michael immediately freaked out the moment the gun was pulled. Fear. Visible. Not fake. Not the type of mocking fear you expressed whenever something didn’t actually scare you. This was like that moment in the chapel when Jeremy suddenly realised what had actually happened. This was real.

And Michael was scared.

Jeremy immediately felt regret about the decision that he had made. But he kept the gun up. He had made his decision. Now he had to stick with it.

...He had to say something. Michael was scared. Jeremy didn’t really want to see that.

“Sorry,” he said. He meant it. Regardless of how either had acted or was acting right now, this wasn’t a nice scenario. Even in the case that it wasn’t enough, he had said it. That had to mean something.

A voice re-entered the conversation. Alex had gotten up. Started saying things. Started taunting. Michael responded. Backtracked. Probably made jabs on his own, though the references he was making, although they weren’t ones that Jeremy really understood. They were rivals, of some sort, apparently.

...Not for long though. Alex was there. He had a sword. Jeremy had a gun.

...But Michael was scared. Michael was going to die. That wasn’t something Jeremy really wanted to see. There was a list, in his head, and watching someone die in fear right in front of him, watching a face he knew disappear while he did nothing but help, that went against what the top item of that list was.

He thought of something he could do. It would work. Definitely. Hopefully. Ideally.

“Look. This doesn’t have to happen,” he said to Michael. “Just let us pass, and nobody here has to die.”
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This World Belongs to the Mad · Solitary Confinement