text: This is getting irritating. You told Bertrand to turn anyone away, and the fact that he's ignoring your orders is starting to piss you off a bit. "Go on, Bertrand. Send them away, and don't come back until tomorrow. I don't wish to hear about fools coming to my door."
  
  
  Bertrand releases a sigh, but nods. "Very well sir. I'll go tell them they're not wanted here." With those words, Bertrand turns and leaves the room. You expect him to come rushing back a few minutes later, but he doesn't. It seems the king's men listened to his demands.
  
  
  Hours pass until finally, the sun has set and the sky is dark. You're about to head to bed, when you hear a faint voice calling your name out. It doesn't sound like it's someone in trouble, so it's probably nothing.
  
  
  You lay down, and close your eyes...
  
  
  "Kit..."
  
  
  You keep your eyes clenched tight...
  
  
  "Come to me..."
  
  
  You grind your teeth together...
  
  
  "I need to see you..."
  > You bah, you don't have time for this. You're going to sleep.
  You shake your head. You must be going mad to be hearing voices. It would be best not to look into it, for your own sanity if nothing else. You clench your eyes shut and throw a pillow over your head to block the voices out. Within minutes, you manage to doze off, falling into a fitful sleep full of nightmares.
  
  In the morning, you begin to hear the voice again. It beckons for you to come to it, but you don't give in. You spend the day as you normally do, drinking wine and eating bread and passing out late into the night... But the voice does not stop.
  
  This cycle continues for days, then weeks. You try to block the voice out but it keeps coming, and soon, it is joined by even more. Begging for you to come see them. When you resist, the voices continue, increasing in volume and barely contained rage.
  
  One night you wake up in a cold sweat, greeted by the screeches of these specters haunting you. You're not sure how much more of this you can take.
  > You need to escape, permanently. You reach for the dagger on your bedside.
  You can't take it anymore, no matter how hard you try. You reach for the dagger on your bedside, kept there for emergencies that never came. Now, it'll finally see some use. Ripping open your nightshirt's sleeves, you press the dagger against your wrist. The voices cry out for you not to do it, but you don't listen.
  
  You slash downward against your wrist, splitting your veins and an artery. Blood leaks freely from the wound. Then, you do the same with the second wrist, beginning to feel light-headed. The voices continue to screech horrifically. It hurts your head to listen to, and combined with the blood loss makes your dizziness worse.
  
  "You won't take me, you bastards!" you scream out at them, voice hoarse. With what little strength you have left, you pull your head back with one hand. With the other hand, you place the dagger against your throat and take a deep breath. Then, you slash. Darkness overtakes you.
  
  Finally, there is silence.
  
  THE END