They were listening.
He knew, and he didn't care. It didn't matter. Nothing would matter, after all, after this.
He kept moving forward. Sometimes it felt inevitable. Sometimes it felt like it wasn't his feet propelling him, but something else, a force of nature, a gravity holding his life in balance. He kept going. It didn't matter what kept him going, after all. Nothing would matter after this.
They were watching.
He could feel their eyes even as he moved, boring giant holes into his skin, mining his body for- for what, he didn't know. Their eyes had been a fact of life for so long. All he could do was keep going. Even the eyes wouldn't matter after this. Nothing would.
They were following.
He could tell by the echoes of doors in the distance, reverberating off empty silences, echoing into a void. He kept going. Just this once, and nothing would matter, after this. There would be no more following, no more furtive dashes in the night. Everything would be laid bare to the world.
They were there.
He saw them, and he opened his mouth, and he screamed. It rent the air.
"Your screams don't matter," they said as one. It thrummed with a metallic power, a silver arrow streaking through the air. "Nothing will matter after this."


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GlasswingButterfly (joined over 10 years ago)
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