Mitis threw the broken bottle to the side, ignoring the pain and flowing blood from his hand. He could only look around at the mess the two have created.

‘So what now?’ Rasmus’ voice echoed in Mitis’ mind.

“I… don’t know.” Mitis said aloud. “I can’t help you.”

‘... You’ve done more than enough.’ Rasmus replied. ‘Go get your gun. I’ll be here.’

Mitis paused before treading back to the garage. He limped down the ever-familiar hallway, coughing as he stumbled into the garage. He held his breath as he turned off the car and grabbed his 1911.

The hallway back, however, felt endless.

The gun kept feeling heavier, and Mitis’ wounds started hurting more. Mitis slumped against a wall, leaving behind a streak of red as he dragged himself to the apartment.

‘Help me end my suffering, brother.’ Rasmus’ voice echoed in Mitis’ head as he stepped into the apartment.

“No.” Mitis responded, ejecting the gun’s magazine to the ground and racking the slide, ejecting the one bullet that was in the chamber.

‘...Why not?’ Rasmus replied.

“... I’m… Selfish.” Mitis replied out loud, once again.