Through Hard Times. (Fantastic Foursome Fanfiction)

End

Okay guys. This is it. I combined the last chapters into one big one. I thought I’d give you my send off at the beginning as to not ruin the end. But I just wanted to say that I love you all so much and that I don’t know if I would’ve ever gotten this far without you.

Along with this being my first fanfiction, this is the first story I’ve EVER finished, and it’s all because I didn’t want to let you all down. Regardless of if you love or hate how it ends, I love it all the same because of the fact that that is what it is—an ending. The first of hopefully many.

This has been an amazing journey and I hope some of you who are reading this end up creating your own stories [if you haven’t already] because this is an awesome thing. Creating and inducing feelings in others. Helping others see your perspective and shed light on things that others might not think about.

Hope you guys enjoyed this ride with me and always keep it cool. <3

One Week Later

Pj’s POV

Pj was pacing around his living room, trying to ignore the torturous voices of his alters. He doesn’t know what’s gotten into them. They’re all over the place, all screaming at him at the same time, making his ears ring.

“Shut up!” He yelled, pictures on his wall shaking with the loud noise. He turned around fast and punched a wall, sweat pouring down his face and bare back. But they wouldn’t stop. Something’s stirred them up. Made them tireless, hectic, paranoid. He pulled his fist back from the wall and saw a dent and a few cracks chipping away at the paint.

All he heard was venom pouring from their mouths, the poison making his blood boil and muscles twitch. He heard high pitch laughter, soon erupting in a chorus of chuckles and booming laughter. They’re all laughing at him. Making fun of him. Teasing him. A vein popped in Pj’s neck as he grabbed a hold of a tall bookshelf and slammed it to the ground, a roaring crack! and boom! echoing around the house.

“SHUT UP!” He yelled with force, but they just got louder, drowning out all other noises.

He stormed into his room and went around in his dresser drawer until he found a small gun he kept in there in case of a burglar. He put the gun near his ear and shot at the ceiling, trying to block out the voices, trying to overpower them. He shot five times and all he heard was a high pitched ringing amongst the chitter chatter of the fragments of himself.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and spun around, aiming the gun. He almost shot but froze when he saw a flash of her red hair. Sara cupped his face in her hands and was talking, though no words were audible to Pj. He could only recognize her action of talking, but all her heard was the alters screaming at him. Some were laughing still, others were crying, some yelling. He couldn’t make sense of any of it. Their words making no sense and barely understandable.

Pj dropped the gun to the floor and let Sara take him to his bed, her mouth still moving, though still no sounds making it through to him. He laid back on the pillows but just stared up at the ceiling, his eyes wide open and unblinking. The voices. They won’t stop. They won’t cease. All he hears is them. All he thinks about is them. There’s no room for himself in his own mind. They’re taking it all up, pushing him out. He felt the bed dip and looked over, seeing Sara lay down next to him, tears falling from her eyes as she rested her head on his chest. He looked back up at the ceiling and stroked her hair semiconsciously.

They stayed like that for hours, Sara not wanting to leave him by himself and Pj stuck. Eventually Pj managed to speak, though he couldn’t hear his own voice.

“They won’t stop talking.” He muttered, his lips barely moving. “I can only hear them. They won’t stop talking. They won’t stop… They won’t stop… They won’t…” His eyes eventually drifted shut, though the voices followed him into his exhaust induced sleep.