Week 5 - After The Massacre

[dolleyed]

[ Silence has settled in the resort, but the lack of auditory input hardly seems to matter when there is an overwhelming stench of death hanging in the air of the third floor. Burned flesh, the iron stench of blood, burned hair... guts and decay. All everywhere.

No staff appears to clean the mess. There's only yourselves now and the remnants of what used to be your friends. ]

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[enter_the_darkness]

[ He holds a blink. A wry smirk is the only response, at first. He's turning to face the counter, hands pressed against it as he lowers his head. ]

... It's getting easier to forget.

[ Both hands curl against the countertop. ]

Master Xehanort would probably have a lot to say about how much I've been letting myself slip up. Anger... loneliness... He wanted me to use those feelings - not let them control me.

[ Quietly, there's a chuckle. The next words are especially quiet - not much better than a whisper. ]

No wonder I failed.