I wasn't him, he was me.

“No, no, no!” She begged grabbing my leg. I looked down despite him warning me not to. Her face was a mess; her nails were filthy, covered with dirt and dried blood; her hair looked to be in need of more care than just a shower and a brush. And she smelled. But I guess that’s what happens when you lock someone in a small room in a strange place for days.

I hated myself for this. Even though I wasn’t supposed to.

“Anthony,” She looked up with eyes that would’ve made my heart throb months ago. “Please d-on’t,” She looked down. “Please don’t do this.”

I jerked my leg, knocking her fragile body to the floor and turned around. She scrambled after me as I slammed the door shut. Her cries rang through the incomplete building.

Anthony… The raspy voice whispered my name. I leaned against the door furiously shaking my head. “What do you want?” I demanded.

Have you forgotten, child? Have you learned nothing? My breath was quick. I was losing control again.

You know what’s right. You know what you have to do, don’t you? I know you do. My knees gave out and I fell to the floor. It was all too much. This had to stop; the noise had to go away. I could feel my ears being pierced by the painful ring of the voices. I could hear the blood pulsing through my ears.

“Yes, YES.” I said with more confidence than I was feeling.

“I know what I must do. I know what is right.” With wobbly knees I stood up. There was silence.

“Now,” I said aloud, waiting for him to say something. And when he didn’t I continued. “You must leave me be. You must let me concentrate and you mustn’t return until my job is done.” I spoke to him. I waited again for him to speak but all I heard was Sloane whimper.

Sloane.

Thinking of her made me weak. I couldn’t bear being there. I couldn’t bear hearing her soft voice saying my name. I had to get out.