>>40922032
"It was that white boy, Larry," the man said, his voice shaking. "Lives in the trailer over yonder."
The nobody's mind raced. Larry? A white boy? His delusions didn't fit with that narrative. "Lies!" he shouted. "You're just protecting your own kind."
He grabbed the man, handcuffed him, and began his interrogation. The man's cries and protests fell on deaf ears as the nobody's hallucinations grew stronger. In his mind, the room was filled with the faces of past enemies, each one whispering, "It's always one of us."
The nobody's mind was a whirlwind of accusations and justifications. The black man's pleas grew weaker as the interrogation turned to torture. The nobody was sure he was getting closer to the truth, but his schizophrenic mind was a maelstrom of doubt and conviction.
Finally, the man cracked. "Okay, okay," he gasped. "It was Larry, I swear! But he said he was just borrowing Mr. Whiskers. He's got him for some kind of... ritual."
The nobody's heart raced. Ritual? That had to be it. His cat, the center of some twisted plot. "Where?" he demanded.
"In the old church," the man choked out. "They meet there."
The nobody's rage was a living thing. He pointed the gun at the man's head, his finger itching to pull the trigger. "Why should I believe you?"
"Because," the man coughed out, "I don't wanna die for nothin'."
The nobody's thoughts swirled. He had to be the one to save Mr. Whiskers. He had to be the hero. He lowered the gun, and with a swift motion, ended the man's life. The shot echoed through the trailer park, a declaration of his victory over the thief.
He left the trailer, his pistol still smoking, and made his way to the church. The world was a cruel place, but he had a mission. He was going to save Mr. Whiskers, and no one, not even his own delusions, could stop him.
