"Atlas, you have to tell me everything that happened. It feels to me like you're holding back. I'm not aunt Cara talking to you right now. I'm your lawyer," she said matter of factly.
"Let's take a break," he replied, and rose to his feet.
"Wait At–"
He had walked out before she was even done speaking.
Atlas, moved without any destination in mind. He just wanted to be as far away from it all as possible.
He just wanted peace. He just wanted the voices to stop for a moment.
Fragments of the night in flashes, attacked his brain.
His hand rested on the wall when it began to cause painful spasms.
With the wall as a guide, he walked and walked, and then he just stopped walking.
Resting his back on the door, he slid down and plopped to the ground.
"What did you do, Atlas?" Voices in his head, too many to count, questioned him.
They accused him of the impossible. He knew himself all too well. He wasn't a murderer.
