((Me apologizing to RC, continued from a point where I was unable to figure out any way to put this at the beginning of the post and still have it work
Voices. Talking. Saying things that Alvaro couldnt hear. It was familiar. Not the voices, but the situation. It had happened earlier today. Twice. Both times, Alvaro had checked who was talking. Both times, Alvaro had chosen to raise his gun at the situation. Both times, a friend of his had a bullet sent inside of them. The situation was familiar. For the third time today, Alvaro heard voices from afar. He had a gun in his hands. He was a murderer. The thing he had to do was obvious. He had done it before. He could do it again.
But he wasnt going to.
As he moved, slowly down the hallway, he knew that he wasnt going to do that. He had hurt people. He had shot somebody, back down in the basement. He had killed Jasper, despite however much he didnt want to. It wasnt going to happen for a third time. He wasnt going to hurt anyone. He wasnt going to kill.
But he didnt know who the voices were.
They could be anybody.
They could be saying anything.
He didnt know what they were saying, so he had to check.
And that was what he was doing. Slowly, down the hall. Step by step, the breaths on his person being muted. He couldnt be seen. They couldnt know that he was there. He just had to step in, find out what they were saying, and run. There wasnt anything he was going to do. The gun was in his hands, but he wasnt going to use it. In, listen, out. In, listen, out. Thats all there was. Thats all there was going to be.
He was outside, now. Right next to the door. There were voices. They were louder. They were distinct.
Al was in there. Al was talking. He needed water. He could hear that. Al was in the room. He would have liked to go in there, but he knew he couldnt. He was a murderer. He had killed two of his friends at this point. He wasnt going to make it three. He wasnt going to make it three. He knew that. He wasnt going to do anything. He would just take his steps and walk-
Michael was in there. With Al. Taunting him. Insulting him. Bullying him.
He had to walk away.
He couldnt show himself. He had killed. He didnt want to do it again. He didnt-
But he had to. Al- his friend
was in there with Michael. Being bullied. Being mocked.
He didnt know.
He had to do something.
He had to help his friend.
He stood, next to the door, clutching the gun in his hands.
Breathe in, breathe out.
The door slammed open. Alvaros eyes quickly found their mark.
The gun raised up.