_Kennedy…Kennedy.._

He would jolt awake, soaking in the puddle of cold sweat that he laid in. He would rub his eyes, looking at the rinky-dink digital clock. _2:34.. Damnit.. _The pills the doc gave him aren’t working, even when he upped the dosage. He had been experiencing some signs of stress after his grandma’s funeral, and his parents told him to go get some help. Maybe they were right, but he didn’t have time, not with work. He slowly rolled himself out the bed, getting to his feet as he walks to his dresser, looking at the framed picture of him and his grandma. Work was in an hour, and he didn’t have time for this. He would throw some clothes on, not really caring how he looked as he grabbed his keys and walked out the front door.

_Kennedy…Kennedy! _

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He jolted awake, again in a puddle of cold sweat. His ears rang slightly, as if the voice was screaming in his ear. His head felt like it was splitting in two as he took the new pill bottle on his bedside table and shoved a indiscriminate handful down his throat. He would rub his temples, reading the clock. _2:34… Damnit.. _He rolled out of bed, getting dressed once more and leaving his apartment. As he stepped in the hall though, he heard a scurry as out the corner of his eye he could see the last bit of an elbow go around the corner. _God, I’m really loosing it, aren’t I?_

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_KENNEDY, KENNEDY WAKE UP NOW!_

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He would jolt awake, yet this time, he was completely dry. He would look to the clock as his head buzzed from the sound, noticing the time. _2:34… Damnit- _Suddenly, he heard the floorboard creak just outside his door, and the muffled “_Shit-“ _He would reach into his nightstand, pulling out the Glock 17 he kept as he slowly stood up, doing his best to make no sound. He would make it to the door, opening to see a figure in a ski mask and jacket, looming over the doorway of the bathroom. They locked eyes, and there was a subtle yet unmistakable silent agreement, as the man backed out the hall and out the front door, sprinting down the hall. Nothing had been stolen, except for the picture of his grandma on the dresser, which had been shattered. Somehow, the broken picture left him with a cathartic feeling, like a burden off his shoulders.

Strangely as well, the voices ceased, which he had no problem with. He continued onward, yet every once in awhile, he could still faintly make out a warm chuckle in the back of his mind.