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((Jasper Bustamante continued from St. Patrick’s Purgatory))

He hadn’t found his peace.

Peace was a word often combined with quiet, but the oppressive silence of loneliness was anything but. After leaving the girls at the cove, he wouldn't see another person for a full day. He supposed he would have been considered lucky. After all, he hadn't seen any enemies. But it also meant he hadn’t found any allies, either.

He couldn't stand being alone. He needed company. Not like the girls at the cove, who only caused him grief. He needed to find allies, people who hadn’t let cynicism or bloodthirst get to them. But Fire Girl’s voice kept coming back to him as he kept on.

”What’s the point?”

The point didn't need to be grand or complex or even that altruistic. Jasper didn’t want to die alone, that’s all. He just needed hope, a last light to cling to before it was all over. Somebody like Henry, who could let him live his last moments in peace. Someone who proved that there was still some good in a godless place like this.

But his hope wavered as dawn came. The announcements came, bringing with it the names of the dead. The names meshed together in Jasper’s mind, as he couldn't tell who died and who killed. To him, they were all people from school, people who didn't deserve any of what happened to them. People he'd never see again.

For such a large building, Jasper hadn't seen anyone else while inside the asylum. He was beginning to feel uneasy as he traversed the halls. By his estimates, between seventy or eighty of his classmates were still alive. Where had they all gone? Was nobody else in the asylum, or even on this part of the island? The thought of being the only person in the building was nauseating, to say the least.

He eventually stumbled into the group therapy room, looking for a place to rest. He collapsed into one of the chairs, looking around at the empty ring. This had once been a safe place, where someone could share their fears and insecurities with a group. But Jasper was decades late, and there wasn't a soul around.

He leaned back and sighed, staring up at the ceiling. Maybe somebody would show up.

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Thanatophobia · Group Therapy