"Now take them down." The voice seems to bristle in impatience.

"For me." He says almost as an afterthought.

Following his commands, I robotically move so I'm in a menacing standing position, my breathing heavy with the effort.

I barely give any notice to the gushing wound in my gut.

I walk steadily as the voices anticipation buzzes in my brain. He tears me from reality. Left me to watch myself murder keeper after keeper, and even patients wandering about. The last thing they expect to do on this Saturday evening is die a gruesome death.

I pay no attention to their endless screams...

I walk out the big metal door covered head to toe with blood.

The voice will be forever satisfied.

I know when I'm done when the voice stops it's rumbling and I can blissfully enjoy the quiet.

I know better than to compromise me as his vessel, like turning myself in, or killing myself, which I've thought of a couple times. Before he shut those ideas down before they developed.

I'm laughing, almost cackling. Laughing so hard and maniacally that it sounds hysterical.

I laugh at the voice for needing me if all insane crazies. I laugh at the dead bodies inside for being so quick to death that they died by a spork.

I laugh until I hit the ground clutching my wound, no longer protected from mortalities by the thing inside me.

Before I could think of stopping it, black smoke spews from my throat, burning scorch marks left behind.

The smoke flies into the distance, taking the voice with it and leaving me to die.

I don't even care that I'm dying.

I'm free.

Free from the haunting sound of the voice echoing through my brain.

Free from his invasive prying.

I breath in the demon less air, no longer scatterbrained and insane, I can think.

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