Go Ahead, Shoot

Chapter Six

Alfred pushed himself against a wall, he held his head in his hands, his hair intwined with his fingers. "Why?" He asked the voice. "Why? Why, goddamit?"

The voice went silent for a moment, but piped up. "To help."

"Help what?"

"Help you. Help everyone."

"So, who is it? Who killed my brother?"

The voice laughed at him. "Are you stupid? I'm you, so I know as much. Maybe a little more."

Alfred covered his eyes and held his legs close to his chest. He plopped onto his side, hoping someone would find him dead rather than alive.

He sighed, letting himself go, and walked to the couch. He turned on the new, his tired eyes not wanting to function. The feeling of tiredness washed over him, not letting him have a break. It didn't leave, but he wasn't physically able to give in.

He closed his eyes, but couldn't fall asleep.

He stood up. "Alright," He spoke out to the voice. "What if it isn't me? Will you leave me alone?"

The voice went monotone as if questioning it himself or not wanting to answer. "If it isn't you, then it isn't you."

"And?"

The voice sighed at Alfred's continuation. "And," It paused. It seemed to have a huge mood change. "No, more like 'but'..." It cleared its throat. "But we cannot leave you."

Alfred stopped everything. "We? What do you mean 'we'?"

"I'm saying there's more than one voice in your head," The voice sounded soft, but turned harsh at the last words. "Dimwit."

Alfred hadn't known that, he had heard the voices all his life, never giving in until now. That explains a lot. The softer voice seemed to answer his questions more, the harsher one seemed to be bloodthirsty. "H-how many?"

"Just the two of us," The harsh voice went. "Excluding you."

***

Sorry about the shortness, it's about twelve in the morning. Plus, I might make Alfred an accidental racist because of this headcannon I have.

I'm horrible, I know.

I'll make a pretty big one later.