They were all there around me. They were the people we loved.
Thoughts hit you harder than any stick of the world. One hit me too and I thrust my hand onto their faces. I had suddenly acquired the claws of a werewolf. These people that we loved were all wearing masks and I so wanted to pull these masks off their skin.
When the first one's mask came off, I rejoiced, "Yes!!! I knew it was only a mask!" It gave me the confidence to attack the rest and to pull their masks off their cheeks.
Some time later, there were several masks on the floor. I let out a delirious laughter - for I had uncovered the evil and deceitful people who I thought I loved.
What did I get in the end?
A bunch of masks on the floor. Hands stained in blood of the people I had attacked even if they weren't wearing any masks.
I sat on the floor mourning. What was I mourning? The discovery of masks that some people wore? Or the fact that everyone there had left because I attacked them?