Days Gone By

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by LogicfromLogic, Dec 1, 2015.

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  1. (Content Warning: Severe gun violence ahead.)

    2:03, the college campus was buzzing with activity. Students chatted in the courtyard while others scuttled off to class, some just in their own world. But things seemed so surreal as that man in a dark hood and mask stepped onto campus. Loud sounds that rang through the once peaceful air told students exactly what was happening. So many mass shooting had been happening, yet nobody ever thought that it could happen to them. It became apparent that there wasn't just one masked man shooting people, innocent people, but three. Many students hadn't made it into the building before they fell; ten already lay on the ground outside either injured or dead. Professor Carris had just barely managed to wrestle the gun out of one shooter's hands, hitting him in the face with the butt of the assault rifle. But that was all he managed as a bullet tore through his chest. He didn't know how many other students or faculty had been hurt or killed, but all he remembered as he lost consciousness was the sound of SWAT showing up and many, many sirens.

    Bruno's eyes shot open, sitting up in his bed and gasping. He clutched his chest; it was healing. Scar tissue had covered the wound by now; it had been a year since the shooting. Nearly thirty people that day died and ten more injured; five of them his former coworkers. Images played in his mind of that day; that terrible, terrible day. His wife Ashley still slept beside him, unaware of his sudden outburst. Their marriage had suffered since the shooting. It hadn't been doing well before then either but this kind of cemented their issues with one another. He slid out of bed and headed into the shower, avoiding the mirror as usual. He didn't mind the scar, he minded the memories that went with it. He took a shower and slipped on some blue jeans, pulling on a grey shirt. Today was the first day of the support group Ashley had signed him up for.

    Heading out, he made his way to the car. A couple of his neighbors waved at him but he never waved back; he wasn't the friendly man he'd once been before the shooting. It was said that the shooters were racially motivated; most of the students killed were transfer students from other countries. Some say that it was just done at random, but no matter what the reason it had been a tragic loss. Bruno still worked for the college, he was on medical leave until he was ready to return. It would be hard not seeing some of the people he once knew there. Cheryl, the history professor, had barricaded the doors of her classroom when the gunmen came into the building. She was shot when she tried to stop them as they shot through the glass. Amy, one of his students had been out in the courtyard and was one of the first to die. A long list of people just made him weep in the car as he remembered them. He finally drove off, heading for the group.​
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  2. “Are they gonna’ make me speak?” she was nervous since the night before, practically eating all of Avery’s popcorn. Avery didn’t blame her, her sister that is. Finally coming to terms with her anxiety, she agreed to go to a support group. Avery gave her the final push, explaining their relationship was on the line. “I don’t know, Elise. You don’t have to if you don’t want to, you know that,” Avery picked lint off of her shorts, regretting wearing such a harsh pattern. What if someone within the group found her outfit to be unnerving? Shit, Elise’s worries were rubbing on her. It was too late to change now. The two came early, Avery did this in the case Elise backed out at the last second.

    “What if they ask why I’m there?” Avery looked over at her sister, seeing her chomp through her eighth (twizler) this morning. She didn’t even eat an actual breakfast! I don’t want to throw it up. Avery didn’t argue with her older sister, she worried that she’d change her mind about going to the meeting. It took weeks to convince her, Avery wouldn’t push her away. “You don’t have to answer. Or you can lie,” Avery leans over to grasp Elise’s cold hand. She has no choice but to look at her young sister, seeing the warmth in her eyes causes her to pause mid-chew. “This is your first time, don’t be too nervous. I’m here, okay? If you want to leave, just give me the sign.” Elise takes a moment to respond, giving a nod in return and soon after begins to pack up her candy. “Thank you,” Avery doesn’t answer, there’s no need.

    Elise looked at the clock upon the radio, seeing that was time for the group to start soon. She unbuckled her seat belt and wrapped her cardigan tightly around her. “I’m ready.” Avery turned off the car and the two walked hand in hand into the building.
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  3. Pulling up into the parking lot, Bruno stayed inside of his car. He didn't want to go here, be at this damn support group. But anywhere was better than being at home. His wife had gotten to the point where everything he did was a warning of suicide to her. He knew that she was just doing it because she was scared that he would die, but there was part of him that made him think that she blamed him for what happened. She at one point told him that he should have just hid himself, or that he should have been able to tell if Joey, Travis and John were going to do such a thing. They had been normal students, showed no sign at all of their planned murders. They had been normal college students talking about grades and other things. How was Bruno supposed to know that that was what they were planning? His wife had become distant to him, and refused to talk to him most nights. In all honesty, he was going to file for divorce if she already hadn't started.

    So there he sat, in his beat up BMW, wondering if he shouldn't just lie and say that he went to the group. Part of him begged to drive away, but he knew that it wasn't right. He needed this, now more than ever. He took his seat belt off and opened the car door, stepping out. His hand grazed his chest where the bullet ripped through; it had barely missed his heart. In fact the doctors were astonished at how fast he healed. Over the skin at least, he still couldn't run or do any serious physical activities for a while. As he felt the rise in his shirt from his wound, he became more self conscious and reached into the back of his car and grabbed his maroon hoodie, slipping it on and folding up the sleeves.

    He walked through the door where a group of people were already seated. He didn't see anyone that he knew here, which surprised him. Maybe he was making a mistake coming here, but again, he was being foolish. He sighed and took a seat where nobody else was sitting. He was well aware of eyes staring at him but he didn't look up; he didn't want to see a smile. He didn't want to hear another, "I'm sorry", he didn't want to be asked a dozen questions about the shooting. Support group or not he didn't want to talk about this. He could barely hear that someone was talking to him. "Sir, can you hear me?" a voice asked. Her voice echoed in his mind for a brief moment; it reminded him of that day. laying there in the hallway, bleeding and hearing, "Can you hear me?" He shook his head and finally looked up. There was an older lady looking at him smiling gently, hands folded in her lap. She wore a pink dress with flowers on the outside and had grey curly hair. Her brown eyes were soft and kind, the wrinkles on her face gave away her age. She was born in the nineteen fifties when the Jim Crow laws were still in act, she'd lost her son to a shooting. This support group was her idea, it brought her closure. Somehow he didn't mind seeing her smile. "I'm sorry ma'am...I uh, I should have introduced myself. My name is Bruno Carris, I'm thirty four and I'm from West Central University," he didn't need to elaborate on the college; it had been one of the worst shootings in the state thus far.
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  4. Elise held onto her sister’s hand tightly once the two sat down. Avery didn’t have a chance to settle comfortably in her seat and she didn’t dare move in worry of startling her sister. This was for her, and so Avery would do her best not to screw it up. “You’re gonna’ do great,” Avery whispered to her doe-eyed sister. Many would not believe the difference in age between the two, nor would they believe Elise to be older than she, but it was true. The two were inseparable since they were children, always having the others back and creating wonderful memories with each other. Sadly, those came to an end and adulthood changed things for the worst.

    Moments after, the leader of the support group came within the circle and took her seat. She held a clipboard and and wore a heartwarming smile. Any of Avery’s worries somehow vanished within moments of seeing the elder woman. “Good morning everyone, I’m Abigail,” everyone said hello, except of course Elise. She held her head low already, as though she were guilty of existing. She had a long way to go and Avery would be there every step of the way. Avery let the pad of her thumb brush across her sister’s hand, indicating that she wasn’t alone in this step in her life. She never would be alone again. “I’d like for us all to introduce ourselves and if you’re comfortable enough, you can state what has brought you here.” And so people within the group began to share.

    One by one, all group members stated their names, their ages and few explained why they were here. Avery didn’t blame them at all, being placed in a position where you are nothing but vulnerable is hard for many, including herself. Once it came down to Elise, Avery held her breath.

    “I’m Elise…and I’m thirty years old,” she hesitated at first, then dismissed herself with a welcoming smile to the others in the group. Avery was proud of her, this was her first step to healing.

    Next came the only man who was left, who happened to be in his own world. He held a straight face, his eyes far from where he sat as if he were relieving a memory. “I’m sorry ma’am…” and he continued to state his name, age, and where he worked. West Central University. Avery knew of the incident, her heart dropped at the mention of the university. Such a devastating moment for her, as a teacher herself and simply as a citizen who lives not too far from the university. It was a blessing for him to be alive, but also a curse for having such memories. Avery could imagine what he was going through, what everyone was going through.
  5. People shifted uncomfortably in their seats, waiting in silence as Abigail waited for the next person. But it seemed nobody else had anything to say, so she went on. "We're all here today because we have faced a tragic, traumatic event. Whether that's school shootings, murders or suicide," looking sympathetically to the man on the right, "or the family of a shooter, we have all faced a terrible loss. I lost my son to a lynch mob back in nineteen fifty three. He was brutally murdered and his assassins got away with it. There was no group that I could turn to in my time of crisis, so I crated one. I hope all of you young folks can get something out of this." People sitting around her put a hand on her shoulder. Bruno couldn't imagine what that could have been like for her. It was quiet for a moment before Abigail spoke once more. "So, we have two new faces here today; I'll ask Bruno if he can start. You see, the first time we come we talk about what happened, how we felt, everything you feel like saying. That way we know how to help you best," she looked at Bruno who gazed up at her. He leaned forward and began nervously rubbing his hands. Abigail knew that this was hard for people to talk about these things, it had been hard for her to open up about her son. "You can add some hobbies in there if you like honey." Bruno looked up and smiled at the elderly woman. She was sweet; he strangely felt comfortable with her.

    "I was at the West Central University shooting. I taught biology, coached football. Well, rather what Americans call soccer. It is a beautiful university, very peaceful. Nobody really had very many problems because we were always working on our problem management, making sure the dorms were safe every night and even went so far as to hiring campus patrols. If there'd been a plan kill as many people as those kids had, somebody would have known it, right? I can't even begin to understand why they did this. It was around two I think when I heard the first shot; my class had just gotten out. I had just enough time to stop the shooter at the door so my students were able to get away, but I hear that class barely made it. Something like ten kids out of a class of thirty made it out unharmed," he put his head into his hands before taking a deep breath and looking up again, "I don't remember the rest. I remember a horrible pain in my chest, felt like my heart was going to burst, but that's all I can remember." He hadn't noticed that Abigail had gotten to her feet and exchanged seats with someone, sitting next to him. Her hand was on his back while he talked, the rest of the group trying to be as a supportive as they could. This was normal; everyone in this room was well aware what this feeling was like.

    Bruno didn't cry, amazingly. Abigail took her hand away as he leaned back, though Bruno did thank her. "That's why I'm here; I need help understanding why someone would do such a thing and how we couldn't have seen it before," he said outright. Abigail sighed and looked at him. "We won't ever truly know deary, just try to cope with what has happened," she replied simply. "Elise, would you like to share? You don't have to if you do not want to, only what you are ready for." Bruno looked over at Avery and her sister; he didn't know what spoke out to him about her but he found himself comfortable with her too. He looked around the room; the man that sat on the right of Abigail (when she'd been sitting there) was keeping his head down. He knew this guy; he'd seen pictures of his brother on the front page after a shooting. He knew how hard it had been as a victim of a shooting, but he couldn't imagine being the family of the shooter.
    #5 LogicfromLogic, Dec 7, 2015
    Last edited: Dec 7, 2015
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  6. As Abigail proceeded to explain her backstory and how the support group worked, Elise fidgeted with a loose strand of her borrowed cardigan. Avery could see she was working herself up, thinking too hard and too much of what may happen. “Hey, it’s okay,” Avery assured her with a quiet voice so as not to interrupt Abigail. Elise took a deep breathe, ridding of her thoughts and she began to focus on the here and now. Avery listened as well, hearing her ask for one of the newcomers to start. Oh no, Avery saw where this was going. Bruno would be first, Elise would be next.

    Avery noticed the man rubbing his hands, he tried his hardest to make eye contact and yet found it difficult. Avery could only imagine how he felt since the shooting. Was he a changed man? Did he even sleep at night? Did his friends look at him differently? What of his wife? Or husband? Avery noticed his wedding band as he rubbed his hands and she knew nothing of him so would not assume.

    And once the man grew comfortable, he began to speak. In the midst of it all, Avery found herself feeling sorry for the misfortune he had to deal with, the guilt he felt for not having known before it happened. He must feel so disappointed within himself, though he had no idea of knowing. Some people simply give no signs of doing something so destructive.

    As he continued telling his story, at one point he had to stop and breathe. Avery couldn’t help but take a breath simultaneously along with him. Simply hearing it struck fear within her. She found herself squeezing her sister’s hand in a form of comfort. “Elise, would you like to share? You don’t have to if you do not want to, only what you are ready for.” This caused everyone’s eyes to be on the both of them. Elise sat erect within her chair and cleared her throat. Avery looked at her for a moment, giving her a soft smile as to encourage her. And she began. “Seven months ago I was engaged, six months ago he started beating on me…” Elise took a shaky breath then. “And four months ago I cried for help and because of me…I saw my fiancée kill someone out of anger and jealousy. I moved in with my sister, far away from him and still think of it every day.” Elise wiped away a tear or two, not used to telling anyone her story. The only one who knows is Avery because she can relate.
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  7. Bruno listened to Elise, compassion seeping into his thoughts as he listened. Jealousy was a nasty thing yes, but what her boyfriend did went beyond that. Abusive; jealousy was one of the biggest manipulation tactic abusers used. None of it was her fault; another form of manipulation that the abuser used was to make everything seem like someone else's fault but theirs. As he watched the tears run down her face, short lived and little in number they may have been, he felt a wave of sadness for her.

    He wanted to sit closer to her to tell her that she wasn't alone, but her sister seemed to have it handled. Still, it was always nice to know that there were people who understood. That's why the support group was here, right? But as hard as Bruno thought about how this support group was helping, he couldn't feel that it was. All this had managed to do was make him feel worse. What good was sitting around in a circle talking about traumatic events helping? He wanted to get up right then and there, go somewhere else. Just something other than listen to things that made him want to die. He already knew that he was going to the bar after this, no matter what their support leader told them. He shifted in his seat and looked around the members; every face told their own horror story.

    Abigail started talking again, at first directly to Elise and Avery, but then to the whole group. But he wasn't hearing a word about it; his mind was back on that day at the college. A scene played over and over again, whether or not it was in his dreams or a flashback, or just deep in thought, he would never forget this scene. He was leaning back, staring directly at the floor as he heard everything around him turn to panic, Chinese food drifted through the hallways, the sight grim.

    Looking outside, I knew that the school was in trouble. My classroom was just on the second floor of the courtyard. So when the first shots were fired, I had a good view of it. Kids; they were just kids. I was able to keep my students in the classroom from panicking and running, telling them to lay flat under the tables and be very, very quiet. I didn't know why these people did this; all I can think about is getting as many people to safety as I can. But as the last student I remember seeing before I saw her go down came through I saw one of the shooters come around the corner. She'd been trying so hard to get to the classroom, I knew her. She was twenty one years old, a young woman from Brazil come here with all that her family was able to save up to get an education so that she could earn enough money to buy a house and make a living for her family back in Brazil. She never made it; Valerie never made it. I wasn't able to shut my door before the students panicked and ran out, some breaking windows and trying their luck. Ten made it out of there unharmed, three students were injured...ten never made it home. Ten; I can't even think about it. I struggled to get the gun from the shooter, I managed just barely to get it out. The other shooter must have caught us because all I can remember is a horrible pain for a brief moment and then numbness...

    Bruno had this far look on his face. Fear maybe, or just not with them anymore. He hadn't realized that he had his hand over his chest, toying with the sweatshirt where the wound was. Was Abigail trying to talk to him? Was anyone? He didn't know. His thoughts ran to Elise's story, and that was it. He couldn't handle this. He didn't want to change something by just sitting and talking about something; he wanted to do something to stop these awful events. He got to his feet, tucking his hands into his sweatshirt pocket. "I'm sorry Abigail, I can't do this," he turned and walked out of the room, shutting the door quietly as he did so. Change his major, get into law enforcement. Maybe work for the Behavioural Analysis Unit something to stop people's boyfriends from killing others out of jealousy, from mass shootings in schools. He wanted to do something to stop the violence.
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  8. Avery’s heart beat violently within her chest once Elise finished her tale. “Thank you for sharing, Elise. We are all hear because of someone’s wrongdoing, and we are all hear to help one another through this difficult process,” Abigail assured Elise as well. She opened her mouth to speak once more, but then—, “I”m sorry Abigail, I can’t do this.” Bruno rose from his seat and quietly left the group. Some were astonished, others concerned while few empathized—they knew exactly what he was feeling. Abigail held her composure, looking at everyone else. “It can be difficult for some. How about we meet again next week, shall we? I will be sending an email to all of you with small exercises that can help with everyday struggles, such as stumbling upon triggers. Everyone have a good day,” and everyone began to wrap up.

    “That wasn’t so bad, right?” Elise wore a smile of relief and her eyes were bright. Avery chuckled, nodding in acceptance. “That was great, now let’s get some breakfast, I’m starving,” and the two walked off.

    With a pep in their steps, the two chattered away about the first meeting among many to come. “This is gonna’ be great for you, maybe even someday you can come by yourself! After all, I have to start up my classes in a few weeks.” At the mention of such an idea Elise stopped in her tracks and immediately went against it. “N-no. I wouldn’t want to do that, I d-don’t think I can—,” Avery stopped her.

    “It was just a suggestion, one I shouldn’t have made. I’m sorry, don’t worry. I’ll come to every meeting if you need me there,” Elise instantly relaxed and sat in the passenger. The two once again continued their exciting conversation as Avery revved up the engine. “What sounds better, french toast or crepes?” Avery grimaced at the mention of crepes, too focused on the idea of having to eat one. “Ew, what’s the point of them? Why not eat a full fluffy—,” with a dull, metal thud Avery cursed aloud and slammed on the breaks. “Shit! Shit, shit, shit, shit!” with quick hands and wide eyes Avery found herself scrambling to see what—who—she hit.

    It was Bruno.

    “Oh my God! I’m such an idiot, are you okay?” without thinking Avery started to pat him down, hoping not to find any injuries or blood.
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  9. Bruno hadn't meant to seem self centered and rude, he just hit his breaking point. He couldn't listen to anymore stories about people's traumas. He couldn't hear about how someone lost their brother in a fatal shooting back in Alabama, he couldn't listen to how someone's sister open fired on a school and how it became a hell on earth for the family, he couldn't take listening to how someone's abusive boyfriend shot someone out of jealousy. He'd seen too much pain to want to experience it over and over again week by week. He shouldn't have come, it was a bad idea. He didn't know why he didn't just tell his wife that in the first place. He knew that she would grill him when he got home about going, ask how it was, if he went, everything. He didn't want to go home.

    He pulled a cigarette out of his left breast pocket and lit it, walking slowly through the parking lot as he staled. He couldn't go to the bar he liked, his wife's brother worked there and always told her. He settled on going to another bar later but he wanted to clear his thoughts. He felt that he owed it to himself to think this through before he drank. He felt like his head was buzzing with too many thoughts at once. His head spun around and around with quotes from the meeting.
    "She just open fired...there was nothing I could have done."
    "They shot me, and her."
    "He stole everything from me; my life, my sanity...everything."
    "They took my baby away from me, and I received no apology. Nothing; he was gone."
    "I saw my fiancée kill someone out of anger and jealousy."
    Bruno felt a headache building up as he started to hear gunfire. The awful smell of iron, he clutched his chest and started to gasp as he lumbered through the parking lot, looking as panicked as a deer running from a bear. He looked over just in time to see a car coming at him, yet he felt so frozen in place. He rolled on top of the hood and fell, landing hard on his hand, which drove into the wound on his chest. He gasped and laid there, unable to breathe for a moment as he caught his breath. Two people were around him in seconds, but his ears were still ringing as he looked up at who'd come out of the car. A small trickle of blood fell from his forehead where he'd hit the ground but there was no concussion, nothing serious. His chest hurt really bad, he couldn't help but keep holding it through his sweatshirt. ​
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  10. Shaking with fear, her hands only hovered over his lain body. She spoke loud, for she could not hear herself over the loud drum in her chest. “C-can you hear me?” her eyes were wide with shock, roaming over him to see if he had any noticeable injuries. Scarlet red dripped from his forehead, thankfully it was nothing serious. “Is there anything else that is hurting you?” Elise quickly came around, kneeling on the opposite side of Avery in hopes of helping. “His chest, he’s grabbing his chest.” The sisters locked eyes, hesitating for a moment.

    Elise and Avery met the man merely minutes ago, was it appropriate to expose him in such a way? It was for his safety and to check if he had anymore bruising or cuts. “Well? You gonna’ just sit there and let him think about suing you?” it boggled Avery’s mind to hear her sister speak to her in such a tone, whereas hours ago she fashioned shaking hands, wide eyes and a worried tone. Avery took action, lowering his shirt from the neckline ot see if she could spot any noticeable injuries. As she scanned, she found pink scarring that formed into a jagged circle. It took little time for it to register. It was his wound from the incident.

    Elise took it upon herself to check the lower part of his torso, scanning with her eyes and a soft touch of her palm. Avery froze, entranced at his injury that proved his survival. With just a glance, she could guess with how heavy it felt, wearing such a scar.


    “Yeah?” she shot up, taking note that the tips of her fingers happened to graze his scar. “He’s fine, I think he’s just having a panic attack.” It boggled Avery’s mind with how calm her sister could be.
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  11. He was shaken semi-conscious, his head still buzzing with gunfire. He could still hear them, the students running, screaming, crying. But one stopped and talked with him. 'C-can you hear me?' Those words again; he opened his eyes and looked at her. At first she appeared to him to be just a shadow, a figure. He remembered when he was shot, bleeding on the floor, he didn't know who it was but they asked that very same question. "Y-yes, I can hear you. Are the students alright? What's happening?" he asked loudly, his hand reaching up and grasping the hand on his chest. "Don't worry about me, get my students. Or run, don't get caught helping me. Head to the janitor's closet and lock the door, hide. If you find anyone along the way, have them go with you. Or just something, get out of the open while you still can," he was unaware that it was in fact Avery's hand that he'd grabbed, pushing it away. He could hardly feel Elise's hand smoothing over his stomach.

    Suddenly his vision became clear and he was fully aware of what was happening. He pushed himself up, looking around him. Touching his forehead, there was blood. He forced his panic away and looked at Avery and Elise, pulling back as he saw them staring into his shirt. "What are you doing? I-," he looked over and saw the car door ajar and back at them. He got hit by a car. Their car. A smile spread across his face, and soon he burst into laughter. "Seems life is determined to kill me now," he tried to rise to his feet but stumbled back down once more, holding himself up on a strong arm. The other clutched his chest again as his heart began to pound too fast. While the bullet had missed his heart, he still had to get many surgeries to fix the damage done to his lungs.

    He pulled himself up by aide of their car and sat gently on the bumper. Looking up at the women, his expression got serious. "Please don't say anything about it...the scar I mean. I know that it's not pretty, and you might be curious but I really don't want to talk about it," he already got drilled by his wife. "Thank you for seeing if I was alright though."
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  12. Once he began to respond, relief swept throughout her being and yet—he wasn’t actually responding to her. He began to speak of students, hoping that they were okay and giving the sisters directions to a janitor’s closet. It then dawned on her; he was reliving the shooting incident. Elise looked over to Avery, her eyes filled with both empathy and sadness. Elise know this all too well, reliving her own personal Hell time and again. Avery could sometimes hear her cries in the middle of the night, knowing that she was waking from yet another nightmare.

    The two women gave Bruno space as he stood up, a look of realization fell upon his face. He looked around, the women fell silent looking at one another then back at him. “What are you doing? I—,” Avery watched as he brushed his forehead to feel blood. It wasn’t much, but still Avery worried. “Seems life is determined to kill me now.” he rose from the blacktop, chipper than ever. It was clear Elise and Avery were confused and worried with his sudden change of mood. Clearly no one else could be so happy after being bumped with a car. “Please don’t say anything about it…the scar I mean. I know it’s not pretty, and you might be curious but I really don’t want to talk about it.” Avery nodded in agreement, knowing it was a personal terror. Of course he would want to keep it to himself, it was his own curse—having to live with a constant reminder of what happened on that day.

    “Thank you for seeing if I was alright though.”

    “Of course,” Avery spoke up, nodding as she reached over to check his forehead but she stopped just in time. “Sorry,” she murmured as her hand fell down the her side. “Are you sure you don’t want us to patch you up? It’s the least I could do after…hitting you.” God, she was so embarrassed.
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  13. He pulled a rag out from his pocket and pressed it up against his forehead. "Nah, I think I'm just going to head to the bar for a while and then back home. I don't think that I am terribly injured, just a cut. I'll be fine," he turned and started off, noting how pretty she was. He sighed as he realized that his wife was going to drill him when he got home about every waking detail of the meeting (that he never wanted to go to, he only did to get her off of his back), about the new cut on his forehead and why it took him so long to get back home.

    Their relationship was over. He could see her disappearing every day and coming back home late at night. A few times he swore he caught the scent of a cologne that wasn't his. She'd given up on their marriage, on him. The moment he was shot was the moment that their love died. He reached the point where he pushed everything away, lied to himself in a way. Fumbling into his sweater pocket he pulled his keys out and unlocked his car once he came up to it, stealing a last glance back at them. He probably wouldn't see them again, he had no intention of coming back to group. But maybe he should; he didn't know why but one of them really intrigued him. Something about her made him want to get to know her.

    Slipping into his car, he drove off. He was heading for the bar, where after he'd catch a cab home. Though he wondered whether of or not he actually wanted to go home. He sighed as he thought about this; he was beginning to think moving might benefit him. He sighed and pulled into an A&W, sitting in his car for a while. Maybe drinking right now wasn't the best idea he'd ever have, and he was starving. Finally he opened the car door and headed inside, ordering a cheeseburger combo and the draft root beer.
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