Michael
OUT OF DARKNESS INTO THE LIGHT
IF YOU WANT ME GONE
IF YOU WANT ME GONE
The hell was she talking about?
There was no good news, there was ONLY bad news.
Crazy was fine, Michael found a certain solace is his madness. But, not knowing how to get the voice out of his head was markedly worse, and suddenly the taste of dried meat and pastry on his tongue turned grim. Not even sour, more the flavor of an apple left to ripen too long.
He exhaled and leaned back into his chair. The wood groaning, the legs tilting just a little bit from the ground. Fingers tapped lightly on the edge of the table, and not for the first time he wondered if he'd made a mistake coming here. Talking to her. Being vulnerable, telling her about the voices in his head. Maybe it was better to just NOT know, maybe it was easier to live in ignorance and just… DEAL with the voice that invaded.
"Uhm…" The only noise he made for a short time. Blue eyes shifting to meet her own, the reluctance to peel open even more of his life to her despite that it may have been common knowledge. Secrecy was his weapon of choice and it had kept him alive thus far.
Then again, it could just as easily be his undoing if this THING was a bigger problem than he realized.
"I know about that thing that fell into the ocean…. the void bullshit. There was some sort of meteor crash a little while back and a second moon. Kinda hard to miss that one. Then THAT vanished, I imagine it crashed somewhere because why not, right? And then after THAT the voices showed up. Aside from that I haven't really been around. I was hiding, trying to get away from everything."
No shame in admitting he was hiding. Seemed like the smartest thing to do at the time.
"But… leaving didn't get rid of the voice. Which tells me, if everything is all connected, I'm just as fucked as the rest of you."
He looked away from Maea, nervous. Shifting in his chair as his gaze switched, flicked in every direction there was a sound. Digits sliding across the top of the table, fidgety. Nails short, driven back by teeth. Reliving all that he knew, having to dig down to find it again, felt more like punishment than a solution.
YOU PULL THE TRIGGER YOURSELF
