It's been three months . . . . . .

3 months. . . . .

T̸̘̖͈̺̩̝̮̙̤̪̿̑̽̾H̶̛̛̥̝͍͈̘͇̮̪͍̪̖̱͔͖̅̓̂̆͋̊̃̏̈́͜͝͝͝͠R̶̪̂̃̂̔̓̌̓̑̈́̇͛̅̄͘Ȩ̷̡̨̨̧̺̱̘͉̭̭̩̬̉͆̏̈́̽̀̚͘͝Ę̵̱̠̬̝͈͇̹̫̗̮̠̲̩͌ ̵̢̘̟̤̑̀͊M̵͎̼͓͕͛͛́̍̃̿̆̀̓̆̉̀̆̋̕Ǫ̴̠͍̼̬̮̼̜̟͋͜Ņ̴̦̠̳̹̥̑̈́͝T̵̡͕͎͕͓͓̰͙̯͉͙̹͖̻̀̑̈͌̎̈́̄̔̐͛̀͠Ḧ̶̢͔̜̦͙̘̖̮̹̪̩͍́͆͒̾̓̋͌͊͘̚͜S̶̢̨̛̠̠͈̞̟̙̼̦̿̀́̿̉̓̈́̈́̊̌̒́͜͜͝

T̴̨̖̠̦̱̜̠̲̻͙͙̠̱̫͓͔̭̞͕̫̻͔̪̳̠̺̻̆̂̀̈̋͂͋̈́̄͐̈́̐̆̀̈̈́̒͆̿̀̾̏̊̈́̊̂̓͛̇̕̕̕̕͜͜͠͝ͅH̵̡̢̧̛̜͙̠̺̻̲̻͙̲̘̼̳̱͉̩̮̻͕̖̳̹̭͙͉̤̪͉͔̱̼̜̣̰̟͚͔̯͇̲̹̟̟̣̞͎͔̖̘̗̥̭̪̖̭̰͖̲̥̍̐̈́̎͑̔̂͗̄̍̐͌̅͛́̄̈́̈́̋̐͒̓͒́̒̓̓̂͐̊̓̃̓̒̌̈́́́̉̎̆̊̆͌̀̕̚͘͜͝R̶̛̜̮͇̞͓̲̝̭̹̻͈̥̎͌͊̆͊̉́͒̀̾̎̍̎͛̀̾͊͐̆̐̎͆̃̉̈́̈͂͆̄̄͆̍̕̚̚͘͝͝Ę̵̢̛̛̯̦̬̩̞̃͋̏̾̃͆͒̃͋̽̉̽̽͘͜͜͝͝Ȩ̸̢̧̧̧̧̡̛̛̩̦̗̙̤̠̞̺͍͙̼̜̘̰̫̻͇̞̘̲̱̪͉͖̟̘̣̺̫̣͉͉̭̳̥͍͎͍͓̺͕̲̼̱͕̥̞͎̺̻̰̦̰̙͖̝͇̣̙̻̳̰̽̒͒͛̓̔̿̓́͗͐̉̋̄́̈́͑̉̀̊̏͊͊̏̓̊͌̐͗̄̀̑̋͐͐͛͑͗̈́̐͛͆̉͗̊̑̿͆̾͘͝͠͝͝ͅͅͅ ̴̛̛̞͖̯̩̠͉̪̺̤̪͍̣̘͕̮̔̆̇͊̍̊́͆̎̓̄͑͂̊̀͋̓́̐̑͆̈̈́̏̑̄̉̌̋̂͒̓̇̽̇̓̊̄͑͆́̈́͒̃̽̋̿̓͛̄́̈́̇̎̃̑͌̾̒̽̏̀̚͝͠͝M̶̡̡̛̰͎̙͓̯̺͕̯̟̗̬͉̲̪̯̰̠̘͉͚̝̠̏͊̇̎̀̽͋̂̋̃̋́̉̈̏̈́͂̄͑̈́̿͐̄̄̔͗̅͛̒̈́͛̊̋̈́̔̄͌̇͂̉̅̿̇̈̅̌͂͊͌̇̈́̇͌̅͗̀̐̊̾̕̕͘͘͘͠͝ͅO̴̢̢̡̧̨̨̡̡̟̱̩̣̭̦̞̞̞̩̞̯̣͕͚̘͇̳̝̞̪̺̝̥͇̯̫̣͇̣̼̝͙̲͈̞̲̒̓͒̂̀̔̍̓̈́͋̽̐͐̎͐̾̐̒́̽̌̔̈́̓̕̚̚͠Ņ̸̨̛̛̛̛̠̫̜̘̠̫̖̠͉̬͈͎͉͍̯̰͍̻̮̠̗͈̰́̿̇̄̇̒̆̌͛͐̐̾̓̂̉́̇͆̐̉͒̾̈́̈͗̎̅̌͐̅̌̀̿͂̔̌́͋̈́̅̎̒͛̚͘̚͠͠͝͝͝͠͝T̶̢̨̨̡͍̥̯̱͓̻̝̩̞̤̙̣̪͎̰͓̳̬̥̝̘̲͇̼̩̥̮̙̪̘̱͔͉͈̪͕̤̹̙̭͎̦͔̠͓̫̯̰̟̱͙͔̖̻̣͉̠̝̰̰̜̫̎̂͛̃̂̄̅͛͌̒͑͌͌̽̓͆̍͑̑̂̈́̎̀̐̽̽̕̚͜͠͠͝ͅͅH̶̛̛̜͑́̊̒̊̈̑̀̈̈́̌͋̍̓̾̔̓̇͊̑̅̊͑̍͌͝͠͠S̸̢̧̧̛̛̬͉͉͉̬̀͑̈́̓̓͐̓̾̋̑́̅͛̋͐̃̎̌̅̓̌̏̅̾̂̿̀̀͛̅́͋́͊̆̌̏͊͒̓̇̄̔̆́͌͂̅͒̐̔̽͑̀̿̄̚͠͠͝͝͠͝

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Anti wasn't in the best state of mind anymore.

They really had abandoned him.

Why?

How much longer would he have to wait!?

Hadn't he suffered enough!?

He couldn't stand being alone any longer!

But he couldn't just laid down and wait to for them, either.

Could he?

Anti laid in his bed curled up in the blankets. He didn't care that they were soaked in his blood, dry AND wet.

The sheets were cold and his skin was down stained red somewhat but he didn't care.

His eyes were locked on his phone screen. His only saving grace.

The only link he had left for his sanity.

Three months doesn't sound like a lot of time.

But the longest time anyone has ever spent in complete isolation willingly was 20 days. Granted it was in complete darkness as well but trapped in someone else's mind was close enough.

It was just Anti, his phone, the TV and the shadows and corpses he kept seeing in the corner of his eyes and in the mirrors.

He took all the mirrors down.

The effects that that one person had after 20 days were hallucinations and a change in sleep cycle. They showed signs of depression and difficulty processing things. They couldn't handle high amounts of stress.

After 20 days . . . .

And Anti has been alone for Three MONTHS.

He refused to believe he was going insane, though.

Wasn't he already insane?

He had the nightmares and visions way before they left.

Anti didn't want to believe he missed them so much. It was almost unbearable. Hadn't he hated them before?

Hadn't he wanted them dead?

Wasn't that the purpose of his whole existence?

He was watching one of Sean's videos on his phone. Or rather. . . Chase. Chase's last video with Sean had been pretty good. Except for the fact when Sean filled in for Anti in the back of the car . . . .

When Chase returned that one day after being gone for so long filming, he apologized to them all. He didn't expect to be pulled out so suddenly. Jackie had looked so guilty, thinking he had been in his room all day. All he had said to them was that he had to go apologize to Anti and Chase knew then there had been a fight . . .

Anti didn't like the fact that Chase had defended him. Why defend him?

He had done so much to hurt them.

Didn't he deserve this?

Was this what they wanted? For him to suffer like this?

Because it worked.

Suddenly Anti heard a distant sound in the house.

It wasn't new to him to hear things anymore but it still really creeped him out.

He curled in the blankets even tighter, turning up the volume higher on his phone.

'Maybe if I lay here and ignore it, it'll just go aw-'

'BANG BANG BANG!'

Anti shot up, his whole body shaking.

'What was that?! A gun!?'

His heart swelled with hope but he didn't want to be to naïve.

Maybe he was just hearing things again . . . .

But yet he couldn't stop his curiosity and he fell out of the bed, running towards where the sound came from.

Anti's heart raced loudly, banging against his bony chest.

How long had he been just laying in that bed? He felt so tired.

'Where'd it go? Did I really just . .. imagine it?'

He was in the hall on the top floor but it was silent now. There was only the sound of his own breathing and his footsteps on the wood floor.

'I should just go back to-'

'BANG BANG BANG!'

Anti fell backwards on the floor, looking up at where the shots had come from.

'. . . In the attic?'

Desperate to know what was going on, Anti quickly pulled down the attic's level, making the stairs fall down. He glitched up into the cramped space with the tiniest sliver of a smile.

Only to be disappointed once more.

There was nothing there.

Just old things in boxes . . . antiques . . . .old photos and albums without Anti in them. . .

Anti walked around the attic just to be sure, being led over to the small window that let in the most miniscule of light.

With a heavy sigh, he looked out the dirty window outside. He could see the remains of the fire he made before to burn all the trash bags from his cleaning day. He hadn't felt the need to go out and clean the lawn afterwards. To pick up the wood and charcoal.

He remembered that bonfire when they were all still there. . . . .

It was the one nice memory he could think of when they all got along.

The last memory like that.

Looking up, he saw a shadow of someone reflected in the window!

Snapping to look behind him, though, there was no one there.

'Like always.'

Only . . .. then he looked down.

There on the dusty wooden floor . . . . was a blood stain.

'Where'd that come from?' Anti slowly reached down to touch it, 'It's dry . . . it's almost brown and old. . . . how old?'

The more he looked, Anti's eyes traveled a trail of it. Small blood stain splatters along the attic's floor. Followed by smears of it as if something had been dragged.

'Have I been up here? Is this blood mine?'

He DID have a habit of bleeding and not knowing about it.

But he hadn't been in the attic for so long.

Suddenly flashes barreled in his mind. Horrible visions from his nightmares of the other Septic egos.

Screaming and begging.

Crying, their mouths full of blood and eyes filled with tears.

Betrayal in their eyes.

He shuddered. None of that was real so why was he thinking about it!?

It wasn't fair. It wasn't right.

Why did they leave him!?

Why did he deserve this?!

WHAT DID HE DO!?

Come to think of it. . . . .

He couldn't remember much of anything after that night of the bonfire. . . . .

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"D- . . . .. Did I. . . ?"

Suddenly the sound of the front door closing downstairs alerted him. He could hear the click of the door as it shut and many footsteps.

"Anti! Where you at?!"

Anti didn't want to believe he actually heard that. . . . .it was just another auditory hallucination.

Right?

He could hear their voices clear as day, "Anti! Get your ass down here! Why's the place look like a dump?!"

"Anti! You okay, dude!?"

He couldn't think . . . . .

He just ran.