Historias de Injuredlance

Lance doesn't like to talk about what happened. How could he forget, when no matter where he looked they were there. When he closed his eyes, he could see their claws. When he held his baster, he felt their teeth. Worst of all, he saw them. In all of his friends faces. He was just really good at hiding his feelings. Maybe a little too good. He gripped his gun tighter. His demons... He could get rid of them now. Forever. Yes. Yes, yes, yes. Gone. He could feel a pinching in the back of his neck. He lifted the gun. He prepped it. He got ready to pull the trigger. But he hesitated. The smallest one was coughing, a flower falling into its palm. For the first time, he noticed it was crying. It looked up at him and he knew he couldn't. It wasn't right. He had seen those eyes before. "No." He muttered. "No, I can't." The pinching in the back in his neck turned into more of a stab. He gasped and brought his hand up to his neck, and felt the small square bump, pulsing at the base of his scalp. He had to get rid of the pain. He saw the knife on the ground by his feet. The knife with the strange indigo/violet symbol. In a swift motion, he picked it up. And despite their screams, stabbed himself in the neck.

They had to leave Lance behind, they didn't have a choice. That didn't mean that they were going to leave him there. They had no way of knowing the damage that could be done in such a short time.