He looked around the room.
They waited for him to speak.
He was scared; it was so hard to speak of his past. But the other guys had shared and they didn't die.
So he spoke and as his words were released they became nourishment for his soul.
This is my entry in this week's ZapFicMonday contest. Do you like writing microfiction? Or would you like to give it a try? There's still 24 hours left (at time of writing) to enter this contest.