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Mr.Brightside

I just don't know now.

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They've locked me in here, no window, no hope. Or at least that's how I feel.

"SHUT YOUR HOLE!"

The voice echoed out into nothing as the black haired adolescent leaned back onto the wall. His legs kicking it every now and then.

I know it's not normal. What they're doing. They aren't who they are. They say things that make no sense. It bugs me to no end. I don't understand why I'm here, or what will become of me, but I'm trapped. I've been given me a choice. No one has said it, but I know. Oh I know too well. The gun next to me, I've pointed it at my head many a time in the past seventeen years, three months, ten days, eleven hours, seven minutes, and six seconds. They have given me a constant choice. One I cannot comprehend.

However I need them, and they need me. I don't want to need them, but its the only way. And they know that. So they keep coming back. The anger more intense each time, the abuse, the torture. Yet I cannot stop. Their reason, it holds me in place, their ideas seem more and more sane.

I know it's wrong... I just can't... I just can't.

One day they'll let me go. I'll be free again. Free to see Eliz, Micah, hell, I'd even be happy to see Joey again. But I can't get my hopes up....

They're coming back soon. I can feel them drawing near. The words they speak so eerily.

"Mr. Grayson, the choice is yours."

They repeat it, over.

And over.

And over.

And over.

I can't stand it. The worst part is, the part I don't get, the one thing that tears at me the most. More than anything. More than the dark spaces, the gun staring at me, their horrendous smile.... Why...

"Why do you sound like me...?"

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it might be worth compiling all of these into one thread, for anybody who appreciates your writing it'd be hard to keep track of you if you're making a separate thread for each story.

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I may do that once I have a bit more. But at the moment I'll keep doing what I'm doing. Unless people request it, I don't thin these are too terribly popular.

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