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Images flash in his mind, unsure of if it’s a common result of fear or if he’s lost control. They feel vivid enough to be the latter, but that’s not important right now; what’s important is that he gets to his room.

The chills won’t go away. He feels so sick. Sick to his stomach that the sight of a loved one would provoke such quick disgust. “Just get to your room” he methodically repeats to himself, hoping that the mental chant would overpower the memories plaguing him.

He shuts the door, feigning isolation, but it only brings him small comfort. He makes his way to the bathroom, ready to expel what had pent up in his stomach. Always did have good control. Control over his body, over his mind, over emotions. But rarely, he encountered situations where he would hit his limits; the encounter today being one.

His own naïvety sickened him. It could have gone so much worse. A small, insignificant string of mistakes could have destroyed all he had worked to protect. Oh, how perfectly he pieced it all together; in mere seconds he realised the dilemma he had forced himself into. At least he handled it well… no, even that does not bring any relief. No matter how well it went, he had the misfortune of seeing the monster for himself. The thought of his face alone sends another jolt to his stomach.

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