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I watched, silently, quietly, as the grey stones tore his old, aged flesh off his bones. I watched, motionless, passionless, as his cold, lacerated body fell to the stained concrete with a muted thud. Standing beside my friends, their horrified faces contrasted with the expressionless one that belonged to me.
Why? I asked myself. Why am I here? I was lying peacefully in the hospital bed just moments ago, only to find my brown eyes glued to the dissipating bloodbath before me. My surroundings suddenly seemed to be shrinking into the distance, as if being vacuumed by a black hole, forever floating in the darkness. Like me.
There was nothing now. I don't know what I'm standing on. I don't know how I'm not falling into the depths of wherever the dark led to. I just know what I had done while I was sleeping. I scarred Fynn's face. I killed my teacher's daughter. I killed the mother of Alison, and the father of Tiffany. I killed a boy who I didn't even know.
And I killed the doctor who tried so hard to help me.
I don't deserve to live. Why was I put in the hospital? Slowly, I raised my hand in front of me and wiggled my fingers. Nothing but black. Black everywhere. Black turning grey. Grey turning amber. Amber turning white. My memories shattered all at once. Regained memories from when I had lost them years before. Regained memories from when I had lost them three months ago. I can't let this happen again. I will erase everything from me this time. Everything.
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Creamy eyelids fluttered open, and a boy sat up instinctively. He looked around, seeing two faces next to him.
"Luke?"
Asked a soft female voice.
"You okay man?"
A gruff but gentle male voice. Blinking once, the boy stared at the pair of faces in front of him. They leaned in closer to take a better look at him, anticipation glittering in their irises, but their hopes were dashed. They were met by nothing.
The boy's gaze was void, vacant and empty. No light shined in his eyes. No reflection of the room could be seen. He was just container. A container that forced its contents out and discarded them, never meant to be retrieved again.
Milky sunlight leaked through the translucent window panes as the boy and the girl recoiled. The boy slumped in his chair, dazedly surveying the container before him. Tears began to well up in the girl's grey eyes; how beautiful they were. She pressed her index finger on one of the container's neatly cut nails and smiled hollowly, her tone deathly flat.
"He's gone."
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