I Don't Know Lol

Your Fault

(okay, first actual part. let's do this. I'm finally updating. :)  )

The same phrases haunted him every moment of his life. " You're a LIAR!" " YOU BROUGHT IT HERE!" "YOUR FAULT." Etc. Every time he tried to sleep, visions of the past would surface from the barrier he tried to make in his mind and torture him. While he was awake, voices and, on occasion, shadows would appear before him, mostly repeating the phrases. 

He was alone now, and yet he wasn't; his broken and guilty mind wouldn't allow that reality to completely set in, so he did the only thing he could think of: he lied to himself. At first, he was able to trick himself into believing the lies, but soon the nightmares and hallucinations were his eventual downfall, and he couldn't lie anymore. So, he didn't. He accepted it; everything that had happened. It caused the cracks in his mind to become deeper, but he wasn't completely broken just yet. Sometimes he would sit and stare; stare at the camera that had once belonged to a friend; the camera that had filmed in the dead of night; the camera that had exposed all of their lies, secrets, and had gotten rid of any sense of privacy completely; this camera that had both brought them together and tore them apart. 

Tonight was a special night. Tonight he would visit them again, most likely for the last time. He drove there somewhat slowly, as if to make the time he had last longer. Eventually, he arrived. The voices less then a whisper in his head; the shadows gone; as he neared his destination.  He walked slowly until he made it to his destination. He stood in front of three graves, each one with the name of a friend he'd dragged into this mess. Jay, Alex, and Brian; those three names, whose voices echoed through his head, whose shadows haunted him. He stood in front of the graves, took a deep breath, and began to speak. He apologized mostly, but did also mention that he was leaving, and where he was going. He asked them to forgive him, and hoped that they were doing much better then he was. He left before he could cry, turning his back to the gray slabs in the ground; the only reminder that they ever had a life to begin with. He climbed back into his car, not turning it on just yet. Wondering if this was the right decision, he hesitated. Finally, he started the car and drove again, leaving forever this time.

Timothy Wright was going to disappear forever.

(I'll look back for improvement later; for now, here you go!)