[Someone was bad at sorting his thoughts. Guilt, confusion, satisfaction. He couldn't decide what he really felt. It was subtle at first, but he just couldn't let go of his unease. The more he thought about it, the worse he became. He kept realizing more and more, but they only added to his confusion. There was something very wrong, something he
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[Or was there? it would explain the sudden memories of stabbing. A part of him tries to believe there was one to justify them.]
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[And there was that tiny prick again. Something telling him that Mayfield ISN'T what it seems. That he isn't THIS PERSON. But he'll ignore it.]
Don't worry about it too much. You'll get a hold of yourself... eventually.
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T-that's right! We sure showed them not to mess with Mayfield!
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(The comment has been removed)
Great day, isn't it? Did you do anything fun yet?
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(The comment has been removed)
Ha, what are you talking about? This town is nothing but a joke. This holiday...
[What about this holiday? He lost the words.]
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