07-15-2020, 12:09 AM
It was two weeks almost to the day since Durante made a wild accusation that he was a god. That he had wielded the power that day in the hospital. Jer woke up with a mild fever. It was nothing really. An aspirin or two would take care of it. But it only got worse. And with the fever the pain grew.
It felt like he was being stabbed and torn apart at the same time. It was horrible. Fever swept in the hallucinations. He saw things. Things he didn't want to see them. His father, his mother, the men he killed. The voices, the damage, everything he kept under wraps flooded in with the hallucinations.
Jer was alone in his misery. His small apartment near the old Bacaratt Mansion empty except for the echo's of his screams that could not be heard outside. He'd prided himself on the sound proofing for Atharim privacy. But now, no one knew the pain and agony. There was not a sound anyone else heard no matter how loud Jer got.
It felt like he was being stabbed and torn apart at the same time. It was horrible. Fever swept in the hallucinations. He saw things. Things he didn't want to see them. His father, his mother, the men he killed. The voices, the damage, everything he kept under wraps flooded in with the hallucinations.
Jer was alone in his misery. His small apartment near the old Bacaratt Mansion empty except for the echo's of his screams that could not be heard outside. He'd prided himself on the sound proofing for Atharim privacy. But now, no one knew the pain and agony. There was not a sound anyone else heard no matter how loud Jer got.