Him.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
Him. It's always him. He got in the maze. He's the only survivor. Right now, I hate him.

Submitted: February 15, 2017

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Submitted: February 15, 2017

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I thought he was strong enough. I thought I knew him. He sounded perfectly sane when he escaped the maze. They would mark it as another failed serum. I knew better. All I saw was bloodshot eyes from the maze. Shaky hands, uneven breath and fidgeting fingers. I knew he wasn’t okay. Why didn’t I try? I needed to fucking try. Instead just standing there like a coward. But that’s what I was.

My hands swept over the desk, sending everything crashing to the ground. Hot, angry tears streamed down my face. Why? I tugged on my hair, screaming. I punched the mirror, sick of my own reflection. Sick of myself. Sick of everything. The body flashed before my eyes. The lifeless eyes, the sickly thin hand, the rope. How the hell did he get his hands on a rope? I hated him. I hated them. I hated everything. 

Did I do the logical thing and go to sleep? No. I didn’t think. I didn’t want to. Mulling things over quickly, I realised no one would miss me. Hell, I wouldn’t miss me. He was all I had left. Except Lisa, but she was loved. She would forget about me quickly. Because she was perfect. Little Miss Perfect would forget all about little old me. Just like she forgot about him. It’s inevitable.

I opened the drawer and picked up a box. The box. It held an escape. I opened the box and took it out. My gun. Silvia, I had named it. I pressed the cold metal to my temple. I hesitated. That’s all it took. A hesitation. The door slammed open, revealing Lisa. The gun slipped out of my grasp. She hugged me so tight that all my worries slipped away for a moment. She was crying into my shirt. I cried with her. 

We would get through this together. We always do. Whether we like it or not.


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