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Survivor
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Matt cringed. Screaming - why, why screaming? Of all the things he could possibly have done.. run away, attack him, shoot him, something, why did he choose to scream? Jesus, he really hoped no one else heard that. No one who's itching for a chance to kill someone, that is.

Then it hit him.. what if he was like that? What if this guy had a gun? A million different scenarios ran through his head, every single one of them somehow ending up with his death at the hands of what could be the world's jumpiest murderer.

Matt slowly started to move closer to the door, not taking his eyes off the nervous wreck currently getting up off the floor.

"Hey, uh.." He tried to think of a more eloquent way to say 'don't shoot me'. He couldn't. Not now, anyways.

"You don't have a gun, do you? I, uh, really don't want any trouble. Shit."

Failing to meet Matt's expectations of immediately trying to murder him, Matt eased up. Slightly. This might have been a mistake - he had no reason to trust this guy to walk in a straight line. He didn't know him, so why the hell would he trust him with his life?

Still, he asked for his name. Mistake or not, the consequences didn't seem to be too immediate.

"Matt. And, uh.. you are?"
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Dear God · Crematorium Chapel