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He heard voices.

((Alvaro Vacanti finally came out of the closet))

Silent, at first. He didnít hear them. He wasnít aware. Then they appeared; quiet, with every step making them louder and louder and louder. He had jumped, when he first heard them, because there were people nearby. Who were they? He didnít know. What were they doing? He didnít know. He didnít know what they were planning or what they were going to do and he didnít know if he knew them or if he didnít know them or if they knew him or if they knew what he did and all the possibilities all the things that could happen they all played in his head as he stopped and heard the voices and his hands shook and clutched the gun and he didnít know what to do he didnít know how heíd do this who were they what were they doing he didnít know he just needed to- no.

He shook his head. Clutched the gun harder. Took a couple steps forward. There were people in there. He had a gun. He had to do it.

But could he?

He didnít know.

But no. He had to. He knew that. He killed Barry. They knew that. They were going to make him pay for it. Even though he didnít mean it and even though all he wanted was to just undo what he did and bring him back he knew they wouldnít listen to him. They were going to be like all the people who saw him before. All the people burned into his mind. Min-jae. Scout. Lily. Jonathan. They hated him for what he did. Everyone else did, too, and they going to make him pay for what he did. They were on the right. He was on the left. They were all around him, so he had to act first. That was what he told himself. That was one of the hundreds of things ingrained into his mind and one of the things he knew he had to listen to now. Do. Use the gun again. He had already done it before and failed, and now he knew that he had to succeed with it.

But no, he couldnít. They were people. They were just like him, werenít they? They were scared and they were tired and they had likely fought just like he had.

He shook his head, as he took more steps forward.

They probably were.

But he had to.

He was on the path that he had led himself. He had to see though what he had done. He killed Barry, and he knew that he had to do it over and over again. That was his punishment. That was the only way he could get past, get away from what he did.

He couldnít, but he had to. He just had to be brave. Stand up.

Do what he needed to do.

He was right next to the doorway at this point. The voices were loud and clear now. They were familiar. People from before. Maybe they were his friends. Maybe they were his enemies, from before this happened. He didnít know.

He closed his eyes. Clutched the gun. Opened them, again.

He had to do this.

His body spun, as he stepped into the doorframe. The gun raised. The gun pointed.

The sight of a friend he once knew made the gun quiver.

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Thanatophobia · Group Therapy