He'd already prepared, mentally and emotionally, to tell the story if she wanted to know, but that still doesn't make it easy. And it doesn't mean he'd thought about how exactly to say it.
But at this point he doubts she'll judge too harshly if it takes a few tries, or he can't find exactly the right words or if his voice isn't totally steady. The point of this is to make sure she doesn't feel alone--and maybe a little so he doesn't, either--and pretending like it didn't affect him would not only be dishonest, but possibly make her think she shouldn't be bothered by her own experience.
He's silent a few more moments, gaze on the table again, but this time he's staring through it rather than at it.]
The uh... The night before I got here was the night we first found out about the wendigos. There were eight of us and we'd all gotten kind of split up, and some of us ran into the wendigos like, right away, but the rest of us were dealing with something else that was going on.
[Explaining this might get confusing; it'd be easier with names, but several of the people involved are here and he doesn't want to tell their part in the story without them being okay with it.]
It's um... K-Kind of a long, totally messed up story, but there was this guy in a mask up on the mountain with us. We thought he killed one of our friends and was going to kill another one, so we were looking for her, and...
[He exhales slowly, quietly, gathering his nerve to continue and figure out how to get the situation across without going into too much detail. It's partially because of not wanting to identify people, partially because it's just so complicated, and partially because he doesn't want to think too much about the exact situation and the memories more than he already has to.]
The guy in the mask attacked us, and set up this whole situation where um...
[Words, Chris. He's the one who'd broached the topic in the first place, and although he doesn't want to pretend like it's nothing he also doesn't want to make her feel guilty for asking.
So he takes a steadying breath and continues.]
There was a gun, and a time limit. I-If I didn't do anything, me and my friend would both die when the time ran out. But the guy said that if I shot one of us, the person who was left could live.
[Whoever's left can live. The choice is yours.]
So I shot myself.
[He looks up, finally, offering a weak smile with nothing behind it.]
The gun was full of blanks. It was all a big joke; no one was dead, the guy was my friend that we thought he'd killed, it was just...
[Just a prank. Just revenge, for the loss of Hannah and Beth. Just a horrible, traumatizing betrayal by someone who had been his best friend for over half his life.]
[Action]
He'd already prepared, mentally and emotionally, to tell the story if she wanted to know, but that still doesn't make it easy. And it doesn't mean he'd thought about how exactly to say it.
But at this point he doubts she'll judge too harshly if it takes a few tries, or he can't find exactly the right words or if his voice isn't totally steady. The point of this is to make sure she doesn't feel alone--and maybe a little so he doesn't, either--and pretending like it didn't affect him would not only be dishonest, but possibly make her think she shouldn't be bothered by her own experience.
He's silent a few more moments, gaze on the table again, but this time he's staring through it rather than at it.]
The uh... The night before I got here was the night we first found out about the wendigos. There were eight of us and we'd all gotten kind of split up, and some of us ran into the wendigos like, right away, but the rest of us were dealing with something else that was going on.
[Explaining this might get confusing; it'd be easier with names, but several of the people involved are here and he doesn't want to tell their part in the story without them being okay with it.]
It's um... K-Kind of a long, totally messed up story, but there was this guy in a mask up on the mountain with us. We thought he killed one of our friends and was going to kill another one, so we were looking for her, and...
[He exhales slowly, quietly, gathering his nerve to continue and figure out how to get the situation across without going into too much detail. It's partially because of not wanting to identify people, partially because it's just so complicated, and partially because he doesn't want to think too much about the exact situation and the memories more than he already has to.]
The guy in the mask attacked us, and set up this whole situation where um...
[Words, Chris. He's the one who'd broached the topic in the first place, and although he doesn't want to pretend like it's nothing he also doesn't want to make her feel guilty for asking.
So he takes a steadying breath and continues.]
There was a gun, and a time limit. I-If I didn't do anything, me and my friend would both die when the time ran out. But the guy said that if I shot one of us, the person who was left could live.
[Whoever's left can live. The choice is yours.]
So I shot myself.
[He looks up, finally, offering a weak smile with nothing behind it.]
The gun was full of blanks. It was all a big joke; no one was dead, the guy was my friend that we thought he'd killed, it was just...
[Just a prank. Just revenge, for the loss of Hannah and Beth. Just a horrible, traumatizing betrayal by someone who had been his best friend for over half his life.]