Music to put you in a better mood

The whispers felt incessant, his worries and the voices of everyone who'd ever left him echoed deeply in Emile's ears. You're selfish. Bowen's voice echoed loudest of them all. You're selfish. He burrowed his head under his forelimbs and whined loudly, trying to drive the whispers out from his head. He wasn't even sure if it was the mass of blue glowing lights, which he tentatively referred to as fireflies, who seemed to follow him everywhere in droves or his guilty conscience. Was he hearing the lights imitate the voice of his one-time friend? Or was he telling himself that in the voice that had driven that guilt into him?

Emile didn't sleep at night anymore anyways and he was so tired of the torment echoing in his ears and he pulled himself from his den of blankets and left, his paws carrying him beyond the pack lands once again, though this time they did not get too far, not turning towards the sheer drop he still sometimes thought about. The images of his body lying broken in the ditch, forgotten but finally at peace still plaguing his mind. The whispers and lights seemed to guide him, nudge him along though hardly gentle in their mocking of him, in their reminder he was a failure. Snow dusted paws carried the young man towards the Garden. He stopped at one of the stone fences, feeling the memory of the bitterness of the last time he'd been here rising up like bile in his throat. YOU'RE SELFISH. Bowen's voice had morphed, taken on a rage he'd never heard and the young man whined again, feeling the strength sap from his limbs and he collapsed, no words leaving his mouth, just the long keening of his suffering and the desire for a single moment of peace.

"Emile"