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((Me apologizing to RC, continued from a point where I was unable to figure out any way to put this at the beginning of the post and still have it work))

Voices. Talking. Saying things that Alvaro couldn’t hear. It was familiar. Not the voices, but the situation. It had happened earlier today. Twice. Both times, Alvaro had checked who was talking. Both times, Alvaro had chosen to raise his gun at the situation. Both times, a friend of his had a bullet sent inside of them. The situation was familiar. For the third time today, Alvaro heard voices from afar. He had a gun in his hands. He was a murderer. The thing he had to do was obvious. He had done it before. He could do it again.

But he wasn’t going to.

As he moved, slowly down the hallway, he knew that he wasn’t going to do that. He had hurt people. He had shot somebody, back down in the basement. He had killed Jasper, despite however much he didn’t want to. It wasn’t going to happen for a third time. He wasn’t going to hurt anyone. He wasn’t going to kill.

But he didn’t know who the voices were.

They could be anybody.

They could be saying anything.

He didn’t know what they were saying, so he had to check.

And that was what he was doing. Slowly, down the hall. Step by step, the breaths on his person being muted. He couldn’t be seen. They couldn’t know that he was there. He just had to step in, find out what they were saying, and run. There wasn’t anything he was going to do. The gun was in his hands, but he wasn’t going to use it. In, listen, out. In, listen, out. That’s all there was. That’s all there was going to be.

He was outside, now. Right next to the door. There were voices. They were louder. They were distinct.


Al was in there. Al was talking. He needed water. He could hear that. Al was in the room. He would have liked to go in there, but he knew he couldn’t. He was a murderer. He had killed two of his friends at this point. He wasn’t going to make it three. He wasn’t going to make it three. He knew that. He wasn’t going to do anything. He would just take his steps and walk-


Michael was in there. With Al. Taunting him. Insulting him. Bullying him.

He had to walk away.

He couldn’t show himself. He had killed. He didn’t want to do it again. He didn’t-

But he had to. Al- his friend was in there with Michael. Being bullied. Being mocked.

Being attacked?

He didn’t know.

He had to do something.

He had to help his friend.

He stood, next to the door, clutching the gun in his hands.

Breathe in, breathe out.


The door slammed open. Alvaro’s eyes quickly found their mark.

The gun raised up.

“S-stand down.”
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70's Horror Movies 2: New Wave Massacre · Intensive Care Wards