Justin – POV
Alone with dangerous, hungry voices inside your head isn't really a sane move.
It's suicide wearing your own face.
The silence of the cell pressed in around me, thicker than the concrete walls. The fluorescent lights overhead hummed, sharp and cold, but even that sound felt distant compared to the roar inside my skull.
They weren't whispering anymore.
They were starving — scratching, gnawing at the edges of my sanity, demanding blood, demanding action.
Rip them apart.
They touched her.
Make them pay.
I closed my eyes, but the darkness behind my lids wasn't empty.
It swarmed with images — June's bruised wrists, her blank, lost stare, her muffled sobs. And in every memory, the voices grew louder, fiercer, echoing off the inside of my skull until it felt like my brain would split open.
Being alone used to help me think, plan, stay two steps ahead.
Now, it was a fucking mistake.
