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It's Not True
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.
When the fever broke and the pain subsided Jerry was left with nausea. He was a god!

Protocol dictated he kill his family and then kill himself -- that was the way it should be done. But Jer sat on the edge of his bed, his clothes still soaked in the previous day's fevered sweats. He'd woken fine like nothing had happened except for the words of a boy god who called him out. He still had a job to do? He had to kill himself for the honor of his family and to insure the world remained a safe place.

The dilemma his prey faced was now all too real. He had been a traitor to the cause the moment he didn't kill himself. Now Jer felt the exact same way. But he had so much more to do. His hunt for traitors still on going. Jer hung his head and pondered the ramifications...

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