Johnnie.
Phil.
Jose.

He knew he was next. He checked his wrist watch nervously for the time.
11.50pm.
His hands shook as he struggled to light a cigarette. He took one puff and tried to steady his nerves.

am I going mad?

He took in his surrounding and shook his head in despair.
Filth.
He stared at himself through the mirror against the drawers. Wild eyes stared back at him. Red rimmed eyes. Runny nose. Dishevelled hair and beard. He looked a mess.
He began to cry.
He threw his still lighted cigarette down and wailed to the ceiling.
He tore at his hair and face, screaming as if possessed by a retarded demonic spirit. Running across the room, he snapped up a rosary from his pillow and fell to his knees.

Holy Mary Mother of God!!!!

Madness channelled into prayer.
Holy talisman clutched tightly to the chest.

If you really are there…SAVE ME! Save me from IT!

His other prayers were lost in his mumbling; whimpering and shuddering.
As if knowing She wouldn’t be saving him that night he dropped his beads.
Like a dead man he walked back to his drawer and pulled out a .357revolver he loaded earlier in the day.

You’d never take me alive! Never!

With shaking hands he held the gun to his head.
Eyes closed tight.
Tears slipping through loopholes in eyelids to run down freely.
1…
2…
3…

He couldn’t do it.
That was when IT came.

By the time IT was done with him, Billy wished he had pulled the trigger.
Billy wished he strangled himself with his rosary beads.
His last words before his life was snuffed out…

Pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death…

But of course, there was no IT.
He tore his own palms open.
He ripped his own eyes out.
He was a Stigmata.
Poor Billy killed himself.
Trapped in his own genjutsu…
A victim of his own schizophrenic mind.

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