 
Depths

by

C.S. Burkhart

Copyright © 2015 by C.S. Burkhart

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

ISBN-13: 978-1370894390

Dedicated to all of those who have suffered their own bouts of insanity. Hopefully it was brief.
Contents

# Foreword

So this is my first published novel, it took me five years to finish it but it's finally done. It's interesting, I started writing this book as a way to sort of document what I was experiencing. A lot of what happens in the novel actually did happen to me; I was constantly having dreams/nightmares and I couldn't tell if they were real or not. I would get confused throughout the day, thinking I had done something or needed to do something because of a dream I had had. It went on for months before I decided to basically stop sleeping. You can't dream if you're not asleep right? I would sleep at an absolute maximum of 3 hours per night, usually closer to 1.5 - 2 hours, except on Saturdays when I would sleep in. This would mess with me too though, I would have auditory and visual hallucinations, space out and not remember who I was talking to, or continue conversations with the wrong people. I did this for almost a full year.

Anyways, I started this book so long ago and finished it when I was in a completely different place in my life. Going through it again so much later, it really brought back all of those memories from that time. The things we do...

In reading this novel, you will live through and experience many of the same things I have. Almost everything (almost everything!) that happens in this novel is based off of dreams or nightmares I had, and the writing reflects the disoriented thinking I was doing back then.

I will tell you that everything you need to know to understand this novel is written inside, although it might not seem like it at first. There are clues to look for, things to notice and pay attention to and if you're clever enough, you just might be able to figure out what's going on.

Good luck.

Cordially,

C.S. Burkhart

P.S.

Got questions about this book? Send me an email, I'll be doing Youtube Q&A sessions and would love to answer any questions you have!

c.s.burkhart.books@gmail.com

# Prologue

...I stumbled through my front door, gripping my head. What had just happened? Where did I even come from? I plopped onto my couch and closed my eyes, hand on my forehead. I took the car keys out of my pocket and dropped them onto the coffee table. The clinging sound echoed in my skull like pots and pans beaten by hammers.

I yanked my hand off my forehead, my eyes bolted open and I sat upright on my couch. What day was it? Did I need to work?

Today is Monday. I think.

No, today is Monday. Right? Whatever, I hate Mondays and I'm pretty sure everyone else does too. Don't you? Correct me if I'm wrong. There's always something that could be better about Mondays. And if there was something that could be better about the week, it was Monday. The significance of it being Monday is that two days ago it was Saturday.

Since it was Saturday I could sleep in, and I haven't been sleeping much lately. Whether it's because I can't get to sleep or because I'm refusing to sleep, I simply am not sleeping. Your mind works in strange ways when you haven't slept. Try not sleeping at all for about 48 hours and you'll be amazed at how differently you start thinking. Try not sleeping for longer than that and you will see the world through a whole new set of eyes. Your brain is unfiltered and it just becomes pure thought. Your mind processes so much faster because there aren't any hoops and hurdles in your head anymore.

Saturdays I slept though. Sundays sometimes, but not usually. I didn't get my hopes up for it at least. I woke up on Saturday like I usually do, unaware of my surroundings, trying to piece together what had happened the night before. Usually nothing had happened the night before which is why it was all the more confusing not being able to remember. It's not like I was out with friends or anything, I didn't really have any, nor was I drinking alone or anything else that would cause me to forget. Maybe I just wasn't doing anything memorable and that's why I couldn't remember.

Tendrils of haze peeled away as I lay there in bed, naked and shivering in the January cold—I didn't use a heater, costs too much, plus I liked the cold. I heard a sound coming from outside of my door. A dull, creaking sound. The sound you would expect an old man to make as he rose unwillingly from his arm chair. There was obviously no one in my chair, I lived alone. But I digress.

I stretched, back cracking and popping, tendons loosening up, a stretch a track coach would be proud of. The blood rushed from my head and I felt dizzy for a moment, but I quickly regained my balance and proceeded to my bedroom door. The door seemed to bulge towards me, like I was looking through a fish eye lens. I inspected it for stretch lines, it would have only made sense for a bulging door to have them wouldn't it? I had not had any experience with this before. I grasped the knob, the metal cold in my hands, twisted and pulled the door open. I shivered and my teeth started chattering so I wrapped my arms around myself to warm up and I saw my own breath. Little puffs rising and quickly evaporating. Now, I like to think I can rationalize most anything. But I couldn't make sense of this. I didn't check the clock when I woke up, but it must be at least two in the afternoon. That was the earliest I woke up on Saturdays. And there was no way it would be cold enough to see one's breath inside, even in January. I went back into my room, tripped over my black work boots, and while lying on the ground dazed, found a pair of pants and a shirt. I'm not sure how long they had been there. They didn't smell bad though, at least not to me, so they must have been OK to wear. I sat up on the ground and pulled the pants and shirt on.

Let's try this again. Stand up, back to the door, open, go outside and... Yep. Still freezing. Why? I staggered down the hall in the dim light from outs—

...Dim light? Wait, what time is it? Teeth still chattering I made my way back to my room once again, tripped again, I really do need to clean my room, and checked the clock on my nightstand near my bed. The clock read out loud to me, "5 A.M." in such a matter of fact voice—in my head of course, the clock can't talk—that I actually had to say it out loud for it to register. I would deal with that impossibility in a moment.

The house groaned again.

Room, door knob, open, hallway, thermostat.

Now why would a thermostat, set to keep the place at 75 degrees Fahrenheit, tell me such a blatant lie? It clearly is not 75...

Creeeooooooooocccccshhheerrrrrr!!!!!!!!!

That's what the house sounded like. Say it out loud, you'll understand. The house seemed like it was impatient with me. Which was unfortunate, I was impatient with the thermostat and it was far too early for me to be awake, so it seemed that no one was starting off to a good day on this fine Saturday.

The noise was coming from my office, kitty-corner to my bedroom. Down the hall on the left. I made my way back down the hall and put my ear up against the office door. I always kept the doors shut in my house. If something comes after me, I'll at least have a few extra seconds while it opens the doors. I listened closely... And couldn't hear anything. No groaning, nothing.

I was knocked to the floor and hard. Luckily my head broke the fall. I was stunned for a good ten-seconds or so. As I shook my senses back and picked myself up, something slammed against the door again. The door bulged unnaturally outwards with the force. It didn't even make sense for it not to shatter with the impact. Somewhat fascinated as to how that could be possible, but also rather frightened, I cautiously approached the door again. There was another loud groan that erupted from inside and I backed away, expecting the force to hit the door again. But nothing. Seizing my chance, I leaped forward at the door and swung it open and... Nothing again.

It's frustrating when that happens. You know, like when you're watching a movie, the suspense builds... Creepy music plays as someone rips open a shower curtain to find nothing? And then...

Creeeooooooooocccccshhheerrrrrr!!!!!!!!!

The sound was deafening coming from the actual origin. I clasped my head trying to block my ears but it was if the noise was inside my head. Everything rattled violently, my desk, the bookshelf, the stacks of paper and books tumbled off my desk and crashed to the floor.

The sound stopped and I opened my eyes and uncovered my ears, still ringing. I stood up but my legs were shaking so I leaned on my desk for support. A voice in my ear said:

"Monday. Today was Monday. The significance of it being Monday is that two days ago it was Saturday."

Wait. What day is it?

"...And nobody likes a Monday."

"Wake up!"

What?

Now don't get me wrong, I can respect authority. But this is ridiculous. I had worked at my company for going on four years now. I can't say I was perfect but I did my job. Watching a surveillance camera isn't the most difficult thing in the world. Especially when you're a night-shift security guard for a company that sells copy machines. I mean honestly, who steals a copy machine? Who even buys a copy machine anymore? This was the first time anyone had even attempted to break in, let alone actually break in and steal something. Why the fuck would someone do that? Is robbing a bank too cliche nowadays that we have to steal copy machines? And how did they even get it out? Honestly, you have to give whoever did it some credit for actually being able to get it out of the building without even waking me up or being noticed by anyone. I'd assume something like that would make a good deal of noise. It's a fucking copy machine. So, long story short I was fired.

Friday. Today was Friday. It was nice that this happened on a Friday so I could at least have an extended weekend. And I was fired at 5 A.M., the end of my shift which was pretty convenient.

I can't say I really blame my boss for firing me, or well former boss, because I wasn't the perfect employee. But I could have at least gotten a warning beforehand, no? I walked towards my car, unsure of what to do for the rest of my day. Friday.

I left the building into the parking lot and got to my car, fumbling with the keys before getting them into the lock.

Click.

I love that sound. It meant that I was going somewhere. Somewhere away from wherever it is that I am. I left the parking lot and began driving down Memorial Drive. I still couldn't get the dream out of my head. What did it mean? I just needed to concentrate so I could remember all the details.

The windows in my sedan exploded, shards of tempered glass flew at my face. My body was flung to the right and jerked back as the seat belt locked. As my car began to tip, I watched as the horizon went from horizontal in front of me to vertical, to behind me to just a blur of shapes and colors, spinning and spinning as I tumbled. The crunching metal and shattered glass littered the street behind me. I could hear tires screeching trying to stop, attempting to avoid hitting me. From what I could tell they hadn't. But I couldn't feel any part of my body so how would I really know? Hell, I could barely see. Blood ran into my eyes but I couldn't tell if it was running down my face or up my face. And yet, the only thing I could think of was my stained shirt. Not the one I was wearing, the one I was wearing when I went to dinner with her the first time. Wine is a bitch to clean out. So is blood. What a way to start the weekend.

"Wake up!"

What?

Now don't get me wrong, I can respect authority. But this is ridiculous... Ridiculous... Why was I fired without a warning? Four years and I don't even get a warning? It was one fucking copy machine? One! It's not like the whole store was robbed! And why only one copy machine? Is that all the robbers could get out? Or did they only need one? Do they not have a Kinko's or something? I don't know. I reached my car and fumbled for the keys before getting it into the lock.

Click.

I loved that sound. It meant I was going somewhere that wasn't here. But I couldn't get my mind off the dream as I backed out of the drive way and onto Memorial Parkway. If only I could remember all the details... I just needed to concentrate...

Shit!

Red light. Almost ran it. Good thing I stopped too, that jackass didn't even wait for his light to turn green before speeding around the left turn. Would've hit me if I hadn't stopped. Idiot. I hate when people don't pay attention when they're driving.

I honestly couldn't think of doing anything. I mean, normally I would be sleeping. If I slept that is. More like trying to sleep. But I felt that since I would have a lot more free time on my hands I should figure out something to do with it, but nothing came to mind. My social life as of late had pretty much deteriorated into nothing. No one came to mind to meet up with, and it was too early in the morning anyways. 6:34 A.M. is what the clock said.

6:34 A.M.?

Hang on, how long have I been driving? I was fired at 5 A.M. I didn't even know where I was. I'm not exactly known for my navigational skills. I couldn't even remember the path I took. None of the streets looked familiar, no landmarks that I recognized. I didn't even see any cars on the road.

Where am I?

A low moan whimpered from the passenger seat. Her shaking arms clawed at her face in an attempt to wipe the red, red blood out of her eyes. I was paralyzed. My car veered to the right and I grabbed the wheel, barely avoiding driving off the road.

"What- what hap-happened... Wha-What happened to m-m-me...?"

Her frail voice broke through choked tears that leaked profusely from her eyes. I wish I could have said something, but I just sat there trying to steer while I stared with my mouth hanging open like a moron.

"WHAT HAPPENED TO ME!?" she shrieked, lashing out at me, gashing me with her nails.

My car veered from side to side, screeching down the road as I fought to stay in control of my car while fighting her back.

"WHAT HAPPENED TO ME!? WHAT HAPPENED!?"

"I don't know! Calm down dammit, I want to help!"

"P-p-please help m-me..."

She broke into sobs and pulled her legs up to her chest. I couldn't find anywhere to stop, nothing seemed to be around.

What part of town did I drive into?

All there was was road.

Until there was a gas station. I slammed on my brakes, almost speeding right past it, and pulled into the parking lot.

I was alone. No other cars, no people. Just nothing.

I parked the car, undid my belt and jumped out scurrying to the passenger side door, and opened it, trying to help out of the car. She kept her head down on her knees and when I touched her arm, she jumped and let out a whimper.

"Don't make me... Please don't make me..."

"OK, OK... Just stay here and I'll get help."

I darted into the mini mart behind the pumps, up to the counter and peered around. There was no one in back, no customers. The place was deserted.

I felt a hand grip me sharply on the shoulder and spun me around.

"Can I help you sir?"

What?

The cashier gazed at me, clearly puzzled. He had wrinkles around his bespectacled eyes, which were magnified intensely by his glasses, and balding gray hair ravished by a receding hair line. Seemed like a nice enough fellow.

"Can I help you with something?" he asked again. A little harsher tone this time.

For a moment I forgot where I was. What was I even doing in here?

"Uh, yeah. I'm a little lost. Can you tell me how to get back to Memoir Drive?"

I sounded as confused as he looked.

"Take a left at the light, follow the street down for about two miles and you'll make a right at Chestnut and then take the first left after that. You'll hit Memoir in about a mile."

That didn't seem right... I had been driving for about an hour and a half and only managed to go what? Five miles? Ten?

I told him thanks and began to leave.

"Oh and sir," he called out.

I stopped and faced him again.

"It's Monday," he continued, "the significance of it being Monday is that..."

Monday? I thought today was Friday... I could be wrong.

"Is there anything else I can do for you?"

I shook my head no and left.

# Book 1: Surface
## Chapter 1

Beep! Beep! Beep!

I bolted awake, hit the "Off" button and collapsed back into bed. I needed to be back asleep. I was so close this time. The dream, the dream, always the same goddamn dream. And I was so close this time. As I sat up and rubbed the sleep from my eyes, I glanced around. Everything seemed to be in place. I made a mental note of all the details:

Two shirts, one black, the other navy blue, both crumpled in a heap on the floor to my right.

Three pairs of pants, one to my right next to the shirts, the other two pairs on the left. Two pairs were dark denim, one pair was black.

Alarm clock on night stand. Other than the clock, the night stand was bare.

Chestnut colored dresser to my left, top drawer sticking out just a little bit, nothing on top of it.

Directly in front of me, at the other end of the room, was a 37" flat screen LCD television setting atop a little black mini-entertainment center with nothing else on top of it.

Work boots at the foot of my bed on the floor.

My walls were navy blue, the door was white.

Closet on my right, doors shut, also white.

A little dirty-clothes hamper that was overflowing in the corner by the closet door.

Everything was in order.

While this little ritual of mine might seem a little bizarre, there was good reason for it.

For months now, I haven't been able to keep track of whether or not I'm awake or asleep. Hard to say how long this has been going on.

Six months? A year?

I don't know. But I do know that when you see yourself in the mirror and your face isn't your face anymore, it's a terrifying experience if you don't know if you're awake.

Ever since I had that dream I've been afraid to look in a mirror if I was unsure if I was awake or not. If I was afraid, then I was awake. And just for good measure, I stopped sleeping pretty much all together. I limited myself to a couple hours a night at most. You can't dream if you're not asleep. Granted, this did come with its own set of problems. My head is filled with fuzz and gaps in my memory, unsure of what I did the day before or even what day it was. I can't remember the people I talk to, I mix up what I say to people and I continue conversations with the wrong people.

I generally have a hard time functioning at all. It's not that I don't want to sleep. I truly want nothing more, but I just cant.

The sun hadn't quite risen yet and the light was just beginning to leak through my curtains. I didn't have to be anywhere today, not until later at least, so I took my time waking up.

Today was Friday. I had been suspended from my job a week prior, and yet I still woke up at the same time I normally would for work, 5 A.M. I pulled on the pair of black pants next to the shirt pile. They were cold. I generally kept my house cold but it was a little more chilly than usual this morning. I made my way into the hallway and into the kitchen, I was starving. I've always had a fast metabolism and it felt like I hadn't eaten in days.

Nothing in the fridge. Nothing in the freezer. Still nothing in the fridge. I don't know why I do that. Fridge, freezer, fridge. Habit I guess.

The coffee finished brewing so I poured myself a mug. It helped settle my stomach. As I leaned against the counter, the dream from last night seeped into my head again.

I was so close...

I couldn't help but put too much thought into my dreams. It could all be meaningless like some sleep experts say, but I didn't think so. I hunted for the symbolism and the connections and the parallels. And I've been plagued by this dream for far too long for me to be able to just brush it all aside.

The clock read 7 A.M. I wasn't supposed to meet with her until 2 P.M. Well, at least there was some laundry to do. That would kill some time. I went back to my room and picked the hamper up, carrying it out of the room in both hands. Various articles of clothing spilled out from the top, a couple socks, a shirt... I went down the hall opposite the direction of the living room, turning right. I had to set the hamper down to open the door, then keep it propped open with my foot so I could pick up the hamper and go into my garage.

The washer and dryer were up against the wall to my left. The garage was remarkably clean unlike my room. There were some boxes in the corner filled with old pictures and some other junk I hadn't sifted through yet. A dart board hung on the garage door. Asides from that, there wasn't much else in here. I parked my car outside, it's just easier to go places that way.

I started the washer, and poured some soap in. I sorted my clothes as I got to them. Luckily my clothes were mostly blacks, blues, browns and grays. It could all pretty much go in the same load. After I had filled the washer to its max, there were still some clothes left. I would get them later. I went back through the door to my hall and saw the door to my office directly across from me. The door was shut. Good. I kept all the doors shut.

I went to the living room and parked myself on the sofa. The cushion was well worn in the section I always sat in. I kicked my feet up on the table and tilted my head back just to relax and get comfortable.

I opened my eyes to the sun shining, blue skies overhead while a cool breeze rustled my hair. I tried to sit up but there was a weight on my chest. I peered down past my nose to see her head resting on me. Her wavy black hair tickled my nose and faint scents of vanilla drifted into my nostrils. It made me feel warm. The grass was making my arms and head itch so I shifted a little. She stirred in her sleep and slowly lifted her head up. Her deep brown eyes blinked from the sun and finally focused their gaze straight into my own eyes. She smiled and I smiled back.

I jolted awake, shivering. Although the sun shone in through the windows, it felt like I was in a snow storm. I sat up and walked down the hallway to get to the thermostat and saw that it read 75 degrees.

I pushed the "Up" button rapidly, but it wouldn't go past 75 degrees. The heater wouldn't kick on even though I cranked it up. I pressed harder on the "Up" button but it stayed at 75. Frustrated, I started tapping the thermostat.

Tap tap.

Pause.

There it was. A couple of taps will get anything to work. It was only 9:17 A.M. I still had another five hours to go. I was still hungry so I figured I would go and get some breakfast and maybe do some grocery shopping at the Wonder Mart. That ought to kill some time. I went back to my room to find my keys. I had started keeping lanyards on them so I could find them easier. I have a bad habit of just dropping them in various places around the house. Coupled with my forgetfulness as of late, made for a very irksome experience when I was in a hurry.

I stepped past the doorway and my head started spinning. I had to catch my balance on the wall. The room swirled, sending the forest green blankets on my bed into a vortex of navy blue from my walls. The red "Standby" light from the television added a nice contrast of cool and warm colors. I had the house painted with cooler colors, apparently it's good for anxiety and relaxation which I desperately needed. I shut my eyes tight and waited. It would pass. There was still a chill in the room even though the heater was on.

Timidly, I unclenched my eyes. Everything was still. It wasn't the first time something like that had happened. It was becoming more and more frequent lately. I figured it must be because of the lack of sleep. I've noticed a steady decline in my weight and I'm not a heavy set person by any means. I stand about five-foot ten, maybe five eleven if I'm not slouching, and the most I've ever weighed my whole life was maybe one fifty. I think I'm down to one twenty-five now.

Miracle diet. Just don't sleep for months and shed all that unwanted fat. I bet I could publish a no-sleep diet and make a nice chunk of money. I walked slowly to the bathroom sink. The chilly water was invigorating as I splashed it on my face. I looked into the mirror, barely recognizing myself. Dark bags framed my once bright icy-blue eyes. They were much duller now. My reflection sapped my own energy from me as I looked into the Mirror Me's eyes. Stubble covered my sunken in cheeks, cheek bones that were already very pronounced, now seemed to jut out like ledges under my eyes. What a mess.

I opened my eyes, the room was dark and I could barely see anything. I put my legs over the edge of the bed, planted my feet on the ground and stood. With my arms outstretched in front of me, I felt my way to the bathroom door and missed. The door was open and I never left my door open. I barely caught myself on the counter and avoided a face plant. The light switch, where was it? My arm searched along the wall until I felt the smooth plastic from the wall plate and I flicked the switch on.

Click.

The light was blinding. I squinted to shut it out and when my eyes finally adjusted, my retinas were stained. Colored spots danced all over the walls. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and noticed something was... Off. I brushed the hair away from my eyes and peered into the mirror, not quite sure about what wasn't right.

My right eye. My right eye was brown. A deep brown. Not my normal blue.

"What the hell..."

I stepped closer to the mirror to get a better look. I rubbed my eyes, maybe I still had sleep gunk in them and it was blurring my vision. Or maybe my retinas were still stained?

Nope. The spots had disappeared and I could see just fine. I inched even closer to the mirror and held my eye open, staring slack jawed with disbelief.

Clink.

What was that? The noise made me jump. Drops of blood began falling into the sink and I tasted copper. I grabbed my mouth and saw my front incisor tooth caught between the opening of the drain. Without thinking, my shaking hand reached for the tooth and pinched it between my thumb and index finger. I didn't want to see it, but my elbow bent, pulling the tooth to my face, daring me to examine it. My tooth. Root and all, with chunks of meat still clinging on, traces of plaque flecked over the enamel. I looked back to the mirror, opening my mouth to look at the vacant space my tooth once occupied. Blood oozed lazily from the socket, mixing with saliva, spreading the metallic taste over more tastebuds. Disgusted, I spat the blood into the sink. As the blood was leaving my mouth, I could feel a solid, smooth, stone-like object pass through my lips.

Another tooth, a molar this time.

Panicked, I let out a scream and looked around for something, anything to help me. Unfortunately, I caught a glimpse of my reflection and noticed that my left eye had changed colors to match the right eye's chocolate brown.

Pressure was building in my sinuses and I watched my long, thin nose transform, curving and hooking down and bulging outwards. I grabbed desperately trying and stop the mutation, smearing blood from my mouth all over my face in the process.

My head felt like it would burst through the front of my face. Bones cracked and popped, stretching and snapping grotesquely into new, distorted positions. My cheekbones grew outwards, my forehead broadened, my skull split and I could see the individual outlines of skull plates, pushing the limits of my skin's elasticity. I grabbed my head, trying futilely to push my features back into place. Another tooth clinked onto the tile floor, I wasn't sure which one. I went to grab my mouth and instead filled it with hair. My hand held clumps of hair from my head, plastered to the blood in my palm. I reeled away from the mirror, knocking my head on the wall.

It took me a second before I realized my reflection hadn't moved with me. It stood exactly as I was a moment before. Pressing its bloody face towards the mirror, hands raised upwards, chunks of hair spilling out from in between the fingers.

For a moment I forgot my deforming face and instead focused on this hellish new discovery. I waved my hand slowly in front of my face to see if my reflection would mimic me like it should, but it did nothing. It just stood there, face frozen in horror and disbelief at the hair gripped in its hands.

This couldn't be real...

Dumbfounded, I managed to uproot my feet from the tile and inch towards the mirror. My reflection stood frozen, allowing me full view of its features—well, my features—horribly disfigured, corrupted beyond any semblance of recognition. Not one feature was in the right place, I had become a mockery of a Cubism painting.

I moved closer and closer until I was finally face to face with myself. My reflection, finally quitting its statuesque charade, smiled a hideous toothless smile and winked.

## Chapter 2

The next thing I remembered was thrashing awake in my bed, the sheets stuck to my body with cold sweat. I immediately grabbed my face and felt it, checking for any deformities or irregularities but all was normal. I darted out of my bed and into the bathroom, flicked on the switch, splashed water from the faucet on my face and slapped my cheeks. It hurt. I prayed that meant I was awake. I opened my mouth and gingerly prodded each tooth, expecting my finger to sink into empty sockets from where teeth once grew. But no, my finger hit a tooth each time. I was about to lift my head from the sink but I had to divert my eyes away from the mirror. I was too afraid to look at myself lest my reflection not shadow me. Blocking my peripherals with my hand, I flicked the switch off and fell back into bed. And laid wide awake the entire night.

## Chapter 3

An involuntary shiver coursed through my body as I left the bathroom. I was reminded of the experience anytime I saw my reflection. I didn't look in a mirror, at least not directly, for weeks after that night.

But now I couldn't remember why I was in my room in the first place. I swear, lack of sleep is like having amnesia. What time is it? I glanced at the clock, 9:26 A.M. It's early still... I wasn't wearing a shirt... Only pants, so... Why was I in here? I remembered the room spinning and catching myself on the wall. Then to the bathroom and splashing water on my face... It was like watching myself from a third person point of view. But every time I played the memory back in my head, I always started at the door clutching my head. I went to leave my room and tripped over my shoes. That's right, I needed to put them on. I pulled out a pair of socks from the middle drawer of the dresser and a navy blue shirt from the second drawer from the top. I sat down on my bed and slipped them on, pulled the shoes on and tied the laces. Double knot. My stomach growled at me something fierce. I doubled over from the pain.

Keys! I needed keys dammit! That's why I'm in here!

I jumped back up and looked around for my car keys, discovering them on my nightstand right in front of my face.

I was hungry, that's why I was in here. To get my keys and go eat something. I really need to stop forgetting to eat, it was probably why I was losing weight. It's not that I avoid eating, I just forget. It usually takes a crippling hunger pain to remind me that I need some sort of sustenance. I don't know why I forget, I mean it's a pretty basic element of survival. Maybe that's the reason.

It was a short drive from my house off of Memoir Drive to the doughnut shop, only about two blocks from my street. I spent a lot of my mornings there. Cheap, filling and tasty. Not much more I could ask for. I'm not picky when it comes to food. You have your "live to eat" people and your "eat to live" people. I easily fit into the second category. I found it to be a waste of my time, especially since I got hungry so often. It takes roughly fifteen to twenty minutes to drive somewhere and back, order and get your food before you can start eating. Then another ten to twenty minutes to eat depending on the meal. So somewhere between twenty-five minutes to forty minutes for one meal. But let's say you want to eat at home. So, depending on what there is to make it could take anywhere from five minutes to heat something up to forty-five minutes for prep work and actually cooking the meal. Then another ten to twenty minutes to eat. And then there's the dishes to wash and clean up afterward. It takes way too much time. That's why I preferred doughnuts. You point at the one you want and start eating. Same reason I like Chinese take out; they've practically got the food in your hands before you're done ordering.

I parked in the front of the shop and walked in. Today I was having a strawberry jelly-filled doughnut. Look at me, the poster child of healthy habits. I sat in my usual spot in the back corner, absently chewing on the pastry. Jelly gushed out from the opposite end that I had just bit into and plopped onto my pants. Great.

I jolted awake, a glob of jelly plopped on my pants from the doughnut on my desk. Great. I hadn't slept very much the day before. I worked the graveyard shift for Copymate Copy Machines as a security guard. It's a job anyone can do because I mean really, how many people steal a copy machine? Who even buys a copy machine anymore? But I wasn't complaining. It was easy money and I could take naps here and there. I had a small office, well kind of an office. More like a closet in the back of the store, separated by a thin door from the rest of the store.

The clock read 12:00 A.M. I had been out for a good two hours and still had five left to go on my shift. On my paper-cluttered desk were two computer monitors with security feeds coming from eight cameras, each camera had its own window, four windows to a monitor. I lazily glanced at the monitors, not seeing anything noteworthy, and searched for a napkin to clean myself. I found one and wiped as much of the jelly off as I could, smearing the rest, and looked back at the screens.

The first window showed the parking lot from atop a light post facing the street away from the building. Nothing unusual going on. The second was a different view of the parking lot, from a camera on a light post in the opposite corner of the parking lot. Still nothing.

Oh fuck....

On the third window I saw movement. It gave a view above the main entrance outside and it looked like a person had just opened the door. I confirmed this on the next window which showed the sales floor. Rows and rows of copy machines created a winding maze, and sure enough, a shadowy figure lurked across the floor, bobbing and weaving from one machine to the next. I couldn't make out any features on him. It looked like a him at least. He kept his face hidden as if he knew where the cameras were. I couldn't even get a better view of him from the other cameras. As he floated from one machine to the next—steadily shifting to the back of the store towards my office—the machines fired up with a whir. The clamoring, clanking discord swelled as more and more machines came to life.

He moved slowly and deliberately, taking his time, probably not expecting there to be an on-call night-shift security guard. Most likely assuming any surveillance would be from unmonitored closed-circuit cameras, which wouldn't be reviewed until after whatever crime he was about to commit was long done and over with, and he was far away. If the owner of the store had any common sense, that would have been the case but no, I was the lucky one to be on shift while a robbery was taking place inside a copy machine store.

Was he armed? I couldn't tell. He could be stashing a handgun in his pocket, a switchblade maybe?

Adrenaline pumped through my body. I had no idea what to do. Should I wait until he's done and call the police? Go and tell him to get the hell out? I had no weapons except a night stick and pepper spray. With trembling hands, I checked to make sure both were in their respective holsters on my belt. They were.

The roar of the machines was unbearable, even from inside my office, but he kept moseying about, casually flicking on more machines, and it looked like he was actually reading the descriptions on them.

More confused now than anything, I kept watching him, wanting something to plug my ears. He just ambled about taking his time, calm and composed, not in the slightest rush, but always keeping his face turned away from the cameras. How did he know where they were?

I wouldn't call myself a brave person but I didn't consider myself a coward. But in this case I figured the best course of action was to sit and wait. I checked windows 1 and 2 again to look for a car—surely he must have drove something if he's going to steal a copy machine—that I could describe to the police but I saw none.

And how the hell did he even get in? I would've heard glass breaking and the doors were locked. If he could pick a lock then why would he be trying to break into a copy machine store, apparently not even to steal money, but instead going for a copy machine? It made no sense.

That goddamn racket... It was too much, and yet he was oblivious to it, exploring all corners of the sales floor, until he finally stopped.

He stood in the middle of an aisle towards the front corner of the store opposite of my office, only this time he wasn't looking at a machine. He stood there motionless for quite some time before he started shifting around, nervousness maybe? Realizing he might be being watched? I could only see the back of his head so I couldn't tell. Very deliberately, he turned around, staring directly into the camera on window 5 and my heart stopped.

He flashed a smile and nodded his head, daring whoever was watching to come out and face him. Only I was looking at my own face on window 5. An empty stare and sinister smile straight into the camera. I slapped my face to make sure I wasn't seeing things. It stung and he was still there and hadn't moved at all. Just staring and smiling.

Stunned, I watched myself, my doppelgänger, turn to look again at another copy machine. I didn't know what model it was, but it was bigger than most of the other ones in the store. He turned it on, a new instrument in the infernal orchestra, screaming in fury over the pulsing beat of the other machines, and lifted the lid laying his lower right arm on the glass. Letting the lid rest on top, he pushed the "Copy" button.

The page printed and he set it on top of the machine next to him on his right. He then laid the upper section of his arm on the glass and pressed the "Copy" button, once again taking the page and laying it on top of the other page when it had finished. He repeated this with his left arm, his head and face, even lying on top of the machine to copy his chest, waist, upper and lower legs and finally his feet, setting each new page on top of the last.

Transfixed by this bizarre behavior, I couldn't help but stare. I hadn't the slightest clue as to what the hell was going on. The blare of the mechanical concerto combined with the flashing lights of the copiers made it impossible to concentrate.

After he finished copying his feet, he picked up his stack of papers and straightened them neatly. He picked up the pages with his freshly made copies of each foot, blew on them and shook them out, almost like someone would shake clothes after taking them out of the dryer. He glanced back at the camera a final time, as if to make sure I was still watching, and then turned his back to me, blocking my view of... Whatever he was doing.

Thoroughly confused now, but no longer afraid, I rose from my little office chair and composed myself. My eyes had to be playing tricks on me. There was clearly someone in the store but it wasn't possible to be watching myself do it.

Not. Possible.

I started towards the door to get into the store room but stopped. He was staring into the camera again. No smile this time though. Malevolent, cold eyes replaced the once hollow stare and toothy smile. Fresh apprehension grew from the pit of my stomach, radiating through the rest of my body, as I put my hand on the door knob and slowly twisted. I glanced one last time at my monitor; he hadn't moved. That stoic, cold stare burned through the screen, chilling me to my core. He was daring me to come out.

## Chapter 4

The store room was dimly lit by only one flickering light on the ceiling and the toxic green glow of buttons on the machines. Twisted, dancing shadows cavorted around the room, off-beat with the rhythmic din of copiers. The never-ending movement and strobing light manifested dread and anxiety in the pit of my stomach.

I crept through the maze of copy machines, trying to keep my eyes focused on my doppelgänger through the flickering light and army of shadows. My eyes needed to readjust each time the bulb flashed on. I tried to work my way as carefully as possible through the aisles, unsuccessfully attempting to avoid knocking into anything in the unsteady light, lest I make a sound and give away my position. Realizing the tactic wasn't working so well, I popped the clasp on my holster and gripped my nightstick.

He kept his back to me, his figure swelling and shrinking with every pulse of light. His shadow doubled and multiplied, casting his figure all throughout the room, copulating with the other jagged shadows that encircled me.

I was close, in the same aisle as him, maybe twenty-five feet away. I unholstered my nightstick, drawing closer... Closer. His arms were a blur, frantically trying to complete whatever hellish task he was attempting, shaking papers out, bending down like he was stacking something.

As I closed in, fifteen feet away at most, he abruptly stopped. I was sure he could hear my heart frantically trying to escape from my ribcage. With his back still facing me, he held out the last copy he made. His unforgivingly cold grimace, made all the more grotesque by the rough uneven photocopy, stained the page.

The lights flicked off again, my stomach dropped and I instinctively raised my nightstick, expecting him to rush at me in the dark. The lights flicked back on and I was met again with his frigid stare. My own face looking back at me, and without breaking eye contact, he blew a breath onto the page and shook it out. He then raised his right arm and plunged his hand into the paper.

His arm slid into the sheet, changing into the same black and white gradient as the copy itself as he reached in. He grasped the top of his copied head by the hair. Grasped it, like the image inside was a solid object, and pulled ever so gently.

The now blank piece of paper fluttered to the ground as he held his own duplicated head, now in color, in his hand. Dark medium-length brown hair, strong jaw line, long thin nose. An exact duplicate, eyes rolled back in their sockets, mouth agape.

I now realized what he had been doing the whole time.

My nightstick dropped from my hand and my legs locked in place. With a smirk, he stepped to the side, revealing a headless body exactly the same size and stature as my own. He gently rested the head on the neck of the body, my body, and adjusted it as one would a crooked picture frame.

Satisfied it was in place, he clapped his hands once and the duplicate snapped to life. It rolled its neck and I could hear the bones cracking. It stretched out, fresh joints popping and aligning themselves into place. The eyes opened and looked around, finally coming to rest on me. The duplicate looked exactly like my imposter and I except for one thing: the eyes were brown. The duplicate looked at me for a moment before mechanically turning away towards another copy machine, and began to repeat the same process as the first imposter had. The imposter watched for a moment and looked back at me with satisfaction in his eyes, the symphony swelling as a new machine joined the orchestra.

The pages stacked up as the duplicate copied each part of its body at a dizzying pace. When it was finished it organized the papers neatly and took the page with its foot copied on it, blew on it, shook it out and reached into the page to pull the foot out and sat it on the floor. It continued with this ritual until a new duplicate was made, exactly the same as its predecessor, only about a foot shorter.

Clap!

It too jolted to life, looked about and moved onto another copy machine, its predecessor already starting on a new duplicate.

All I could do was watch, petrified, as more and more of me emerged from the papers, each one slightly different from the last. Before long there were dozens, each moving onto a new copy machine and multiplying by the minute. My doppelgänger simply observed the process, surveying the duplicate's work like a manager while the hectic sonata of scurrying footsteps multiplied, a scattered fusion-jazz tempo of clunking and stomping.

The lights flickered off once more, the room illuminated by only the cancerous-green glow of buttons. The hurried footsteps had stopped, melding into a synchronized march as the duplicates lined up around me.

The lights flashed back on I was greeted with the sight of hordes of duplicates, each more twisted and distorted than the last, frozen in place with all eyes fixed on me. Some had blonde hair, some black and one even had red hair. Some were taller, others shorter. Some with rounder noses some with hooked bird-beak noses. It seemed that as the copies progressed, a copy of a copy of a copy, that they became more and more warped. Some were even missing eyes, ears and mouths. The heads became oddly shaped, elongated or squashed, but regardless of how each one appeared, they were all looking towards me.

The true doppelgänger emerged from the ranks and stood front and center, just feet away. I could have reached out to touch him if I hadn't been paralyzed.

He took one step towards me and my legs buckled from under me while my vision faded slowly to black. Crumpled on the floor, in my last moments of consciousness, I could make out the original imposter crouching over my body, staring soullessly into my eyes.

## Chapter 5

"Sir? Hello? Sir?"

I snapped awake as something nudged me on the shoulder. I was propped against the wall in an awkward position and had an awful kink in my neck. I opened my eyes, my fuzzy vision slowly coming back into focus.

"Sir?"

I looked towards the voice. My imposter stood staring at me, black holes where the eyes used to be. He lent towards me and smiled.

I jumped backwards, knocking my head on the wall. Wincing, I opened my eyes again and saw the baker from the doughnut shop, gawking at me with his arms raised up in defense, startled by my jolting away from him. My imposter was nowhere in sight.

"Sir, are you alright? You've been out for awhile."

Shit! How long had I been out? Was I late?

"What time is it?" I asked of him.

"About 3:30," he responded, looking down at his watch, still clearly bewildered.

I jumped from my seat and rushed out of the doughnut shop and got into my car. I grabbed my phone from my pocket and started the engine with my other hand. I had five missed calls and one voice mail from her. I squealed through the parking lot and onto the street, trying to entering in my voice mail password and nearly getting hit by an oncoming suburban merging into my left lane.

"One unheard message. To listen to your messages, please press one..."

I really would like to see the person who does the voice for those recordings, just to see if she looks as annoying as she sounds.

"Hey, you haven't answered the last five times I've called you. Is everything OK? Call me back when you get this. I won't be able to see you today since it's so late but maybe we can reschedule? Just call me when you get this," she paused a moment before continuing, "I'm starting to worry about you."

"End of message. To save it to the archives..."

She was worried about me? Why? Why would she even bother caring? We hadn't seen in each other in months and barely spoke anymore. How would she even know there was anything to worry about? I continued down Memorial Drive in the opposite direction to get back home. There wasn't much else I could do today, it's not like I had any other plans and I didn't have anything to do at home.

I had been fumbling to get my phone back into my pocket for some time now and was finally getting frustrated with it. I glanced down and found that my shirt had gotten stuck in my pocket when I was trying to put the phone in. No wonder the damn thing wouldn't go in. I fixed my shirt and got the phone in, right as I was rocketed forward in my seat. The seat belt lock caught and jerked me backwards. I heard my collar bone snap. My forearm bone jutted out from the back of my elbow. The jagged bone pierced my side and blood leaked from both wounds. I had drifted into the wrong side of traffic and a vehicle, that I couldn't make out, had slammed into me head on.

The back of my car rocked upwards with the force and my head smashed into the steering wheel with a crunch. Apparently the airbags had failed. My neck snapped outwards and my head ricocheted from the wheel.

## Chapter 6

I stood almost naked in my hallway just outside my room. It was freezing, little goose bumps formed on my bare legs and arms. The only thing I had on were a pair of boxers. I shivered and could see my breath when I exhaled.

Creeeooooooooocccccshhheerrrrrr!!!!!!!!!

It was much closer this time. The noise came from my bedroom, the door wide open with the moon shining brightly through the open curtains. I never left my curtains open. The bedroom door slammed shut by some unseen force and I turned, bolting down the hallway. It seemed to stretch on forever, although it was only a matter of ten feet or so to the living room.

I was almost there, but the living room stretched further away, sucked into a black abyss. I ran harder, hoping I could make it before the room was completely engulfed when I passed by the open doorway to my bedroom, the door slammed shut as I sprinted past it. I stopped in my tracks and turned a one-eighty, eyeing my bedroom door. I walked backwards down the hall, facing the doorway as I stepped carefully back towards where the living room should have been. As I stepped, the bedroom door slowly opened more and more with every step I took. The door opened completely and in shock, I watched myself step out of the doorway. As I moved backwards, he moved forwards running in a freeze frame, stop motion sort of way. I stopped and walked forwards again and my "other me" began moving backwards, back into the room and the door shut behind him right as I reached the doorway.

There was no end to this hallway, it stretched on for miles in both directions. There was a faint glow, a cold glow, from a light source I couldn't see. Still shivering, I started making my way down the opposite direction. I checked behind me to look at my doorway once more and it remained shut. In all the confusion, I must not have noticed that the walls were made entirely of mirrors. An infinite number of reflections shot out from both sides of me. Multitudes of reflections within a reflection within a reflection kept pace with me as I trekked on down the halls.

My breath caught in my throat as something pierced the flesh of my foot. I stopped, balancing myself on the mirrored wall, and held my foot with my other hand. Shards of glass jutted out from my bloody feet. I looked at the floor for the first time since coming this new direction and saw it was made entirely from glass. Cracks had formed behind me where I had just passed, rippling out from where I stood, growing spiderwebs that I could hear as they spread. I yanked the glass from my foot and dropped it to the floor.

The chunk of glass hit the floor with a tink, shooting off more webs, rapidly radiating from the point of impact. I took off running as fast as I could in the opposite direction. I didn't know what was below the glass floor but I didn't think I'd like it. I looked to my right at my reflection in the pale light. I looked afraid, truly afraid. I ran faster and faster, my lungs burned, my muscles were wearing out and fast, and suddenly, I wasn't running alongside of my reflection anymore. It stood frozen in the mirror behind me, watching me as I ran, with a heavy tone of sadness washed over its face.

Glass shattered in the distance, the sound echoed, roaring down the hall as the floor collapsed. I felt lightheaded from running but I forced myself along even faster, desperately trying to stay ahead of the cracking glass. Bloody footprints trailed behind me and despite the fire coursing through my body, my feet were numb with cold. I couldn't even feel the glass that was surely tearing up my feet. I looked to my left and saw my reflection running with me—at least a little reassuring—but I still kept my eye on it, making sure it wouldn't abandon me again.

My ragged breath was clearly visible in the near freezing temperature. I could feel the cold radiating from the mirrored walls, chilling me from the inside out. My reflection stared back at me, cheeks flushed, sweat on my brow.

The cracks were right at my feet now, falling away from my shredded feet as I stepped down.

Creeeooooooooocccccshhheerrrrrr!!!!!!!!!

Mirrored glass exploded out from the walls in the distance behind me, the walls fell away, dropping into the blackness below. My reflection gritted its teeth as cramps formed in my sides. I've never been a good runner, my body was at its limits and I could feel myself slowing down, the glass digging even deeper into my feet as my footsteps grew heavier. I turned back towards my reflection and it winked, shooting off into the distance with a burst of speed.

I stopped. I couldn't run any further. The glass gave way beneath my feet and I fell.

## Chapter 7

Shit!

Red light. Almost ran it. I get distracted easily. The intersection on Memoir Drive doesn't have a protected left turn.

The light turned green and I drove slowly down my street until I reached my driveway, parked and stepped out of the car. My neighbor across the street, some kid—maybe about twelve years old—waved to me. I waved back. I think his name was Martin. I don't really know, I don't interact with the neighbors much.

It was about 10 A.M. now so I still had a few hours to kill before I was supposed to meet her.

My dreams were getting more and more intense.

That sound... God what was that sound?

I went down the hall to the office, opened the door and looked around. Everything was in order. Small desk in the corner by the window, plenty of clutter on it, my little office rolling chair tucked underneath.

Motion.

What was that?

I caught it from the corner of my eye. I could have sworn I saw myself running down the hall... I poked out of the office and looked both ways. Nothing. I left my office and instead went to my bedroom and sat on my bed. I'm so tired. I don't remember the last time I slept well. Every night is just one dream after the other and I can never tell when I'm awake or not. Like I said, my dreams are detailed. Detailed and usually mundane, not the stuff most people dream about like flying, or shit like that. There's no way to differentiate between the dreams and things I do, or did, in real life.

When it wasn't the dreams then it was just insomnia keeping me up. I'd get so wrapped up in a task that I just couldn't pull away, even if that task was simply trying to find something to do so I didn't have to sleep: reorganizing my office, reading the news, doing laundry... It didn't really matter as long as I wasn't sleeping. I don't know why I tried staying awake, I mean I love sleep. I miss it. Badly. But I just don't want to. I don't want to go to sleep and dream these fucking dreams and spend the rest of the night tortured in my own house.

I stood, very reluctantly, from my bed and looked around my room, taking note of all the details. I couldn't be too sure, what if I was sleeping right now? Once I was satisfied everything was in order I went back down the hall into my living room. I remembered that the morning paper came today. Completely slipped my mind. I read the newspaper a lot. I know my phone would be much more convenient, but I've always loved the newspaper ever since I was little. I practically taught myself how to read from the newspaper. I went back outside—Martin was still playing and his brother had joined him now—and picked the paper up off of my driveway taking it back inside.

I plopped down on my sofa, set my keys on the coffee table and removed the newspaper from its clear plastic bag. I loved the smell of a newspaper right out of the bag. That rich musty smell. Something about it...

The first article above the crease on the front page caught my attention immediately. It read:

Local Business Man Murdered In His Own Home

by CB Morris

Police discovered the remains of Charles Green, 56, late Thursday night, brutally murdered in his own home. He was found with multiple stab wounds in his chest and back. Police and locals alike are puzzled by this grisly act of violence in their normally quiet suburban town. Police would not comment when pressed about possible suspects or motives, pending a full investigation. Charles Green...

I stopped reading there. Charles Green sounded familiar. Really familiar, but I couldn't quite place from where. I looked at the page again. A meek, middle-aged man with a receding hairline, a little gap between his two front teeth, lips pulled back into a goofy gap-toothed smile with a small round nose sat atop of it. His eyes were magnified by his thick-framed glasses. Seemed like a nice enough fellow, I didn't like him though. I didn't know why, I just felt uncomfortable as he stared back at me from behind his glasses. Forever frozen, no more pictures would ever be taken of Charles Green. At least not of him smiling. Or alive. Unsettling thought.

I turned the page and perused through the paper but none of the other headlines really caught my attention. How disappointing.

Charles Green... Where did I know you from? I knew I had seen him somewhere. Knew it without a doubt. It was going to drive me crazy all day trying to remember where I had seen him.

It wasn't even 10:30 A.M. yet. Time moves so much slower when you're either looking forward to, or dreading something. In this case, it was a little bit of both. We hadn't seen each other in so long and she said she was worried about me so it wouldn't lead to a pleasant reminiscing. There would be the awkward small talk in the beginning, neither of us wanting to be the first to bring up whatever concerns there were. In the end I would do the asking, she always knew I would act first. Then there would be the questions...

"Are you OK? Why haven't you been sleeping? Why haven't you kept in contact?"

I already knew the tone of voice she would use. The soft sympathetic tone with a bite to it that reassured me she was being serious but also genuinely cared.

Then I would respond with generic answers to everything she asked.

"Yes I'm OK. I just haven't been. I'm sorry, I've been busy."

But she could always cut through my bullshit, not like it was hard to tell that those answers were bullshit or anything, but she would always call me out on it. She would keep pressing and I'd keep dodging, until she'd finally catch my eye directly in hers. I couldn't dodge and weave through a conversation with her when I was looking her directly in the eye. I could with other people but never with her. Never. It was like I was already having the conversation.

After the serious stuff was done we would try to catch up a little bit and maybe discuss some current events. I made a mental note to ask her about Charles Green. Green... I wonder what he did for someone to want to kill him. Maybe he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. You don't hear of murders in this town very often.

I rested my head all the way back against the seat of the couch. It was an expensive sofa but my God it was worth it. You've never sat in anything so comfortable. It helped my back. I've always had poor posture and now I was paying for it with aches and pains.

Her wavy black hair tickled my nose and faint scents of vanilla drifted into my nostrils. It made me feel warm. The grass was making my arms and head itch so I shifted a little. She stirred in her sleep and slowly lifted her head up. Deep brown eyes blinked from the sun and finally focused their gaze straight into my own. She smiled and I smiled back. Her expression grew somber and I could sense she was reading my mind. She apparently didn't like what she saw. She didn't move her lips but I could hear her.

You know that you're going to kill yourself if you keep this up right?

I knew. I nodded my head.

Please stop. Please.

I knew I couldn't so I shook my head. Tears began welling up in her eyes. She reached out and put her hand against my face, gently stroking it.

If anything happened to you, I would feel responsible. You can't put me through that... If you won't stop for yourself, at least stop for me. Please?

She didn't understand. She couldn _'_ t. I was beyond stopping. I couldn't ever go back. She buried her face in my chest, sobbing. My heart broke as her tears flowed. I pulled her closer, placing my hand on the back of her head, gently running my fingers through her wavy hair. She started shivering. I could feel how cold she was through her clothing.

Please stop... I'm so cold. Don't you care?

I didn't know how to tell her how sorry I was. I just pressed her tighter to me, hoping to warm her. Her fingers were ice against my face and she shakily lifted her head from my chest. Frost had formed on her eyelashes, little frozen rivers of tears streaked her face, smearing the little makeup she wore.

The bright clear blue skies had disappeared, completely gone and replaced with blackness. Each individual blade of grass dug into me through my clothes, they pierced my flesh and blood seeped out, warming the grass around me. Ironically, the bleeding was helping me get more comfortable.

Please stop. I'm so cold babe...

I always liked when she called me that.

Please...

Her voice faded into the openness that now surrounded us. Sunken in eyes longingly gazed into infinity, her chocolate irises contrasted starkly against her pale white face. I moved my hand up to my face, starting to go numb from the chill of her fingers, and placed it over her own hand.

I squeezed her hand tight, vainly attempting to transfer some warmth back to her, and instead heard a loud snap. She moved her eyes to the spot where her hand was and they opened wide. Her fingers had snapped off from her hand and now lay in the palm of mine. I looked back to her and she opened her mouth to scream but no sound came out. Fissures formed along her face, spreading from where her top and bottom lip met, splitting her face in two. The sickening crunch reverberated from her entire body, completely frozen solid, fracturing from within until she shattered in my arms. Crystals of ice lay where she had just been a minute ago, her fingers still in the palm of my hand.

My tears froze instantly and I rolled out from underneath what was left of her broken body. The only thing even recognizable was the top of her face just above her nose, her eyes still frozen in horror at the transformation she had undergone just moments before.

I bolted upright, heart pounding. There was fabric under my hand. My ceiling replaced the black, open, endless space. I was in my living room. I looked around to make sure everything was as it should be. My heart started slowing down until I realized I was shivering and could see my breath.

My heart started beating much faster than before.

## Chapter 8

I shook uncontrollably from the frigid climate in my house. My fingers were already a light shade of blue. I rubbed them together and leapt up from the couch towards the thermostat down the hallway.

Door slams shut, endless mirrors...

The images flashed into my head and I felt dizzy again. I steadied myself on the wall to keep from falling. It felt like ice. With shaking hands I inspected the thermostat. 75 degrees? I don't think so. I tapped on it but nothing happened. I went into my bedroom and looked through my closet for a jacket. Various articles of clothing were scattered all about, nothing was in order. Just like everything else. I knocked clothes hangers aside frantically, searching for something to fight the cold. It pierced me to my core, nipping at my exposed skin, making it painful to even touch anything. It must be below freezing. My teeth chattered and I stepped over the threshold into the closet to look for anything that would help with the cold.

A long-sleeve shirt. That works I guess. I removed it from the hanger and I was about to put it over my head, but the fabric started to droop through my fingers like putty. It stretched and stretched the more I tried to grab at it, finally hitting the floor with a wet plopping sound. I let the rest of the goop fall from my hands, dumbstruck. I was too cold to process what had just happened though, I would deal with it later so I reached for the next shirt I saw, watching again as it turned into goop faster than the first.

Creeeooooooooocccccshhheerrrrrr!!!!!!!!!

The closet door slammed shut in my face. It was pitch black but I could feel the different shirts and pants melting from their hangers onto me like taffy, dripping down my shoulders and running down my arms. I slammed my fist into the door hoping to break through but it was useless. The cold made the pain ten times worse and I was pretty sure I split my knuckle, not that I could see that though.

The walls creaked and I turned my back to the door. The doughy mess of what was once my clothes rose over my ankles and up my legs. It was difficult to move through, what I imagined quicksand would be. The clothes that hadn't fallen from their hangers were getting pushed onto my face. It took me a moment to realize it at first, but the walls were closing in.

It took a great deal of effort but I was able to turn to face the door again, desperately bashing it with my fists to no avail. The walls closed in more and more, pushing the sludge of clothes up past my knees. I shoved myself into the door with my shoulders with everything I had but it wouldn't give.

A crushing weight on the top of my skull let me know the ceiling was coming down as well. I ducked down but couldn't go very far, the clothes were already chest high. In a last ditch attempt, I tilted my neck up, my cheek pressed against the collapsing ceiling and struggled to keep my head above the muck, until at last I couldn't breathe.

The scent of stale laundry filled my nose and mouth and the pressure from the walls began crushing my bones. My spine was compacted and shot through my back and out the top of my neck. My head popped like a grape in between two fingers.

My a r m s f o l d e d i n o n t h e m s e l v e s . . . . .. . . . . . ....

## Chapter 9

Coffee table. Television. Television stand. Sofa. Kitchen pantry. Sink. Refrigerator. Details details details details details details. I ticked off each one, rummaging through my memory to make sure the images I saw matched correctly.

I had fallen off the couch and my head hurt, probably hit the edge of the coffee table. I felt the top of my head and winced as my fingers timidly rubbed the lump that had already formed. The clock read 12:37 P.M. I had been out for almost two hours. Adrenaline was still coursing through my body and my limbs were trembling.

What was happening to me?

My body felt like it had gone through battle, I was exhausted. Imaginary weights were strapped to my arms and legs and even breathing was a chore. I picked myself up from the floor, cramped aching muscles screaming at me for making them work.

I put one foot in front of the other and lost balance, falling into a heap on the floor. I stayed there for a moment, dazed, in pain, and feeling utterly helpless. I managed to pull myself onto my hands and knees and crawled down the hallway. It stretched on and on, seeming to get longer and longer as I crawled on my path. It took me a second to notice the blood trail my hands and knees were making as I crawled over the glass, each time I set a hand on it, cracks formed and the glass dug into me like razors. I couldn't hardly keep pressing on from the...

No. There was no glass. Hallways aren't made from glass dammit.

I stopped and half rolled into a seated position against the wall. I turned both palms up to my face to make sure there was no blood. Before I even knew it, tears were running down my face and I pressed my hands to my eyes trying to stop the streams from flowing. I barreled over, shaking, and I slammed my fists into the ground, coughing and crying and coughing from crying. I don't remember the last time I cried. I didn't even think I had ever cried at all.

When I finished, I was completely drained. I just sat there, head against the wall, unable to move and not even wanting to. I couldn't remember what I was even trying to do when I began making my way down the hall. What was it...? I don't know. It took me a minute to even remember what day it was. Friday. It was Friday. And today I was supposed to meet her at... What time? Fuck! Trying to navigate my memory was like tryingtoreadasentencewithnopuctuationorbreaksorstartsorstopsanditjustranonandonlikeatangledmessofnonsensethaticouldntevenbegintosortoutifitriedij ust felt like I was running in circles, never moving forward, passing by familiar scenery but never able to place where I had seen it from.

Two! Two o' clock is when I was supposed to meet her. What time was it? I couldn't see the clock from my spot in the hallway. With the last bit of energy I had, I crawled to my room on my hands and knees and pulled myself over to my nightstand to prop myself up. The clock read 1:03 P.M.

I had enough time to take a shower and clean myself up a bit before I had to meet her. I couldn't let her see me like this. She thought she was worried before...

Just you wait...

I was going to walk to my closet and look for something to wear, but the memory of being crushed by the walls in some sort of clothing goop, bones breaking, spine coming out from the top of my neck, shins shooting through my knee cap, head being crushed...

I closed my eyes and took a breath before going to my dresser instead. I had a clean, plain navy-blue shirt in the top drawer and a pair of black jeans in the middle drawer. Boxers in the fourth drawer along with socks.

A shower would help. Showers always helped me clear my head, if only for a bit, and the hot water would relax my aching muscles.

I set my new clothes on the counter and turned the faucet on in the tub, pulled the little hammer up on the faucet and the water began spraying out of the shower head. I undressed and stuck my hand under the water, satisfied that it was hot enough for me, and stepped in. I liked my showers hot enough to the point of turning my skin pink. It felt good inhaling the steam, and the water rejuvenated my aching body as it ran over me. This was the one place I truly felt relaxed. I felt safe in the shower for some reason, I don't know why. It was like the world went away for a while so I could just take a break and let my head slow down. I don't even know how I drag myself out of the shower unless I've stayed in so long the water was going cold on me. I never had the motivation to leave a hot shower. I was warm, I was relaxed, I was in my safe place. My head was quieter and everything just seemed less important.

But I knew I couldn't stay long. I had to meet her at two o' clock and it was after one when I had gotten in. Dismally, I turned the knob off and stepped out. The bathroom was filled with steam and it made the air thick. I grabbed my towel and dried myself off. It really wasn't that fluffy of a towel, I was going to have to get a new one. Say what you want, but fluffy towels after a hot shower are one of life's true treasures.

Boxers on, socks on, pull up pants, pull down shirt and I'm dressed. I sat on top of the toilet seat lid, I could at least savor the atmosphere of my safe place for a little while longer. After a minute or two, I stood up and went to the mirror, to brush my tangled hair down, and reached over to wipe the steam off.

Clink!

I had knocked my toothbrush into the sink. I looked down, picked it up and put it back in its place and tilted my head back up to the mirror and saw my deformed, distorted face looking back me. My hair had fallen out in clumps, my nose hooked downwards and bulged out, my forehead was twice as wide as it normally is, cheek bones jutting out like ledges, my right eye which was now a deep dark brown instead of blue and sat about two inches lower than my left on my face.

I stumbled backwards and looked again. My normal face stared back at me. Confusion, anger and fear painted it.

"Fuck!"

I brushed my hair down hurriedly and left.

The light switch. Forgot to turn the light switch off. I went back in and flicked it down.

Click!

I turned my back to leave again and had the inescapable feeling of being watched. It's impossible to mistake it. I stood motionless, sensing the disturbance in the air. Something was moving... Behind me.

Don't look don't look don't look...

I don't know how I knew, but I knew it. My reflection was still in the mirror, watching me. That movement I felt was his breathing.

No. That doesn't happen in real life. Stop.

I shook the thought off and grabbed my wait... Where are my keys? Not this again... I glanced at the clock, 1:46 P.M. I needed to be on my way. I don't like to be late.

Not on my desk, not on my bed, and it didn't look like they were on the floor... Coffee table! I darted out of my room and went straight to the coffee table, snatched the keys in mid run and circled back around and out the front door. A little voice in my head spoke up as I was walking out.

Bad idea mate.

What do you mean?

Just that. This is a bad idea. Tell her you can't make it.

I need to see her though, she'll know what I should do. She always does.

It _'_ s a BAD idea. Just stop. Please stop. You don't want her wrapped up in all of this do you?

She won't be. I promise.

I was going to finally see her again. How long had it been? I couldn't remember. Way too long. Way too long... She could help me though. If anyone could, it was her. She was always one step ahead of me in knowing myself. She was the only thing I really truly trusted anymore, and I could finally see her now.

## Chapter 10

I was half way there before I realized I had forgotten to lock the door. So I turned back, dug for the key, turn to the right, deadbolt slams home. Great, can't be too careful considering the circumstances right? Satisfied, I went back to my car and got in. I started the engine and headed back out down Memoir Drive. She only lived a couple miles from me so it wouldn't take me long to get there.

I knew how our conversation would start but what would happen afterward? I needed her help and trusted her more than anything, but how do I explain what's happening? That I was having dreams and hallucinating, dying on a regular basis, never knowing what's real and what's not... How do you explain insanity?

She was already worried, hell, if not calling her for a while was cause for concern then this was cause for 24-hour surveillance. I drove along down Memoir Drive and turned left at the light onto Paramount Place and just drove. The sky was blue and it was the perfect temperature. 75 degrees. Not too hot and not too cold. It was a nice day. A much needed boost to my spirits.

The light changed red at the intersection and I stopped behind a metallic green minivan. It had a bumper sticker on it that read "Coexist". Each letter used a different religious symbol to make the letter. Cute. I didn't really believe in anything. I had never wondered what happens when we die, I figured we just died. But if that were the case, there would be no more thought, no more conscious or subconscious thinking. How do you think about what it would be like to not think?

The driver behind me was honking his horn angrily. The minivan was gone and the light was green. I must have drifted off. Feeling rushed by the guy behind me, I pressed hard on the gas pedal and sped off.

I continued down Paramount until I turned onto Sunny Way. Weird street name. It was canopied on both sides by weeping willow trees and there was hardly any sun to be seen. I wove down the winding street, finally parking against the curb outside her house. 24976 Sunny Way. No matter how fuzzy my memory had gotten, I would always remember that address.

Ignition off. Quiet. I always felt unsettled on this street. Maybe it was the willows with their leafy bows turned downwards and the shadows they cast. Maybe it was the utter silence, not a single person was on this street. No kids on bikes or drawing with chalk, no fathers playing catch with their sons. Completely deserted. I never liked being outside on this street for very long.

I stepped out of my car, the breeze passed over my ears and through my hair and sent a chill down my back. I shuddered. Maybe it was from nervousness to see her, maybe it was the unsettled feeling, I don't know. I locked the car and walked the pathway to her house.

She had done well with herself, studying criminal law in college with a minor in human psychology sure paid off. As much as I enjoyed her company, I always thought she was studying and analyzing me, which I'm sure she was. Pointing out my obvious bullshit aside, she was always able to find the deeper meaning in my words. She was good at it too. It could be her profession, it could be our history but whatever it was, she was good at it.

I was nervous, and I have no problem admitting that. She could be a little intimidating and it was awkward considering the reason we were meeting in the first place.

Just be yourself!

I hated that expression, "Just be yourself." How stupid of a saying is that? Who is myself? What does that mean? And yet a peppy voice in my head kept repeating the saying over and over.

Knock knock!

Just be yourself!

Shut up.

I didn't hear her coming. So I knocked again. Still nothing.

Hmm.

Just be yourself!

I gripped the door knob, perhaps it was open? I twisted the knob and the door opened up. She had left the window in the front of the house open and the breeze made the floral-patterned curtains billow and whip around.

From the entryway I went to the living room on the left. The coffee table had some magazines and a coffee mug that was almost empty. Everything on the sofa looked organized just like always. Pillows propped up, cushions completely tucked in. The living room was connected to the kitchen straight ahead and to the right was the staircase to the second floor with the dining room to the right of that. I checked out the rest of the first floor and I had to admire the place—hardwood floors, flat-screen TV mounted on the wall, an overstuffed couch that looked like it'd be amazing to sit on. Tasteful art in simple but elegant frames decorated the walls and a lovely china cabinet in the living room that complemented the floor.

She had rented the place out when she went to school but asides from some of the upgraded furniture and knick knacks, it was exactly the same as I remembered.

"Hello?"

Just be yourself!

No response. I started towards the staircase and climbed up the hardwood steps. My shoes made a clunking sound that I rather enjoyed, echoing off the walls pleasantly.

When I got to the landing just before the second set of stairs is when I noticed that her lamp was knocked over. It was a simple brass lamp that had belonged to her grandmother. It normally sat on the little table to the right of the sofa which was immediately to the left when you hit the second floor, but now it was knocked over at the top of the staircase along with the table it sat on. The shade was knocked off and the bulb was broken, littering the top few steps with glass.

I stood there on the landing and I felt my stomach knotting up. Something had happened.

## Chapter 11

Movement.

Twitching.

Shadows darting in and out of sight. Circling and taunting me. I was becoming increasingly jumpy from the movement. Everything seemed like it was moving in this fucking house. My house. It was like ants crawling on my skin. When I wasn't seeing things, I felt like I was. I knew they were there even if I didn't know where and I was growing weary of their games. I just wanted to wake up from this and snap back to reality. It seemed like months had passed and yet there was no snap. No jolting awake, no reprieve.

The clock read 1:16 P.M. And yet there was no sun in the sky outside. I peeked through the blinds in my living room and there wasn't a single trace of light. It wasn't even dark, there was just nothing there. Nothing at all. The sky, the neighborhood, even the walls on the outside of my house were just gone. Nothing existed outside of the walls in which I was confined.

A rattling sound caught my attention, I could feel my ears straining towards the direction of the noise from behind my left shoulder. There it was! I grinned in delight, finally catching the unseen thing that was constantly running about my house. Always moving just barely within my peripherals, making its damn rattling sound—like chain link fence being hit with a shovel—and never allowing me any rest. I finally had you, you son of a bitch!

My pulse quickened and I turned around on my heels, dashing off after it down the halls. The hallways had multiplied since I took up residency here, this had to have been the third one I had discovered inside my house in such a short period of time. And to think I had never noticed them before... How peculiar.

But no matter. I would finally be able to catch it. The dimly lit hallway wound and snaked its way throughout my house and I could never keep the thing in my sight for too long. It ran like a human would—for the most part at least—although it used its hands to run every now and then.

The damn light... I had been trying to find the source of the light in this hallway for hours but I was never able to get to it. It pulsated, waxing and waning in short intervals and I longed to see its source. I imagined feeling the warmth upon my skin. God how I missed warmth... The damn thermometer was completely unresponsive. Just give it a little tap, one more tap.

Tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap taptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptap!!!!!!!!

Fucking thing just wouldn't work! Tap tap tap! Hello?! Ripping it off the wall didn't help either. Not when a few minutes later a new one had replaced it. 75 degrees it said. It always said 75 degrees. If it was 75 fucking degrees I wouldn't be seeing my own breath!

So of course I ripped that one from the wall as well, but to no avail. It just kept coming back! It was just there to mock my struggles and tell me the temperature I should be feeling, but wasn't.

Fucker.

Limbs scampered along down the hall. Whatever it was it was, was fast. But I would catch it soon.

Clink clink clink!

The chains trailing behind it smacked the walls, finally explaining the noises I had been hearing.

I was closing in. Almost there... Just a little more reach... And....

Got it!

I jerked back with all my strength and planted my heels into the floor.

A choked gasp escaped it and the chain went slack, causing me to lose balance and fall flat on my back.

The hallway curved sharply left and I couldn't see around it so I had no idea what it was doing. Still stunned, I began crawling in its direction. After about five crawl-steps I could see its feet from around the bend. Human feet. That was a relief at least. Toes curling and uncurling almost in sync with the pulsing light. Long slender legs grew from its feet as I continued around the hall. They were pale, not like someone who hadn't gotten a tan but a sick pale. Like someone's face right before they vomited.

I finally had you.

No more would you scamper about and torment me. No more would your chains smack my walls as you scampered, keeping any wink of sleep from my eyes. You were mine now.

I noticed it was a woman's figure now. The slender legs ended in a shapely ass, covered only by a pair of white cotton panties. Her body contoured along the bend from the hallway. Chains indeed bound her and she was slowing down, taking ragged breaths. I moved ever so slowly not wanting to startle and panic whoever or whatever it was. But when I saw the face I—

—Stood rooted to the landing on the staircase, unsure of whether I should proceed. The knocked over lamp was a bad omen. A definite tell-tale sign that something was wrong. Very wrong.

I told you not to go...

And you gave me no reason! I retorted back to myself.

I looked down at the steps in front of me and back up the stairs. She might be hurt, I had to see for myself.

One foot in front of the other, one step at a time I made my way up the stairs.

Our breathing was heavy. Limbs wrapped around each other, I couldn't keep track of whose was whose. She grasped my face and pulled me to her mouth, forcing my willing lips to meet her own. She pulled at me so hard that it hurt, her teeth sunk and dug into my lips. The room was hot like the night before, thick with the scent of sweat and sex. I could spend the rest of my life in this moment. Her legs rose up, wrapped and constricted around me, pulling me deeper and deeper.

She shoved her hand into my shoulder and flipped me onto my back—all the while keeping me inside of her—and in one fluid motion straddled me, thrusting her hips back and forth.

She threw her head back, grabbing my hands and leading them to her breasts. A sigh of ecstasy flowed from my lips to her ears. Encouraged by my pleasure, she moved faster. I was about to burst, I pulled out and rolled out from under her, those chocolate eyes peering into mine.

"Get back in," she said with a coy grin.

I didn't hesitate. I pushed back inside of her slowly and gently. Her eyes closed and she moved her hands up from her hips, squeezing her breasts.

With dread in the pit of my stomach I set my foot at the top of the staircase and with a final glance at the lamp, I knew I should turn back. I wasn't going to want to see whatever it was that awaited me.

She was near climax, moaning at the verge of orgasm. She clawed at the sheets, mouth parting ever so slightly. I plunged into her harder and her cries of pleasure let me know she appreciated it.

There was one light on, coming from the master bedroom. Her bedroom. The door was parted, allowing a thin ray of light to fall upon the floor. Shadows moved across the ray and I could hear noise, like the bed was rocking back and forth.

Harder and harder I thrust myself into her, tilting my head without any conscious thought and...

Motion.

What was that? The door was parted. In the thin crack I could make out a silhouette growing in size as it approached the door.

I was almost at the door when I had the thought to grab something, any type of sharp or blunt object. Something to defend myself with. Something had happened at her and whatever did it is still here. I looked around but there was nothing to use.

I slowed down and studied the silhouette, its frame increasing in size, slowly creeping closer to the door.

"What is it? Why did you stop?"

The closer I got to the door, the stronger the smell got. The smell of sweat. And sex. And something else... I couldn't quite place it.

Wait a second...

Stale and metallic. Blood. That was the scent of blood.

The door burst open. What the hell was he doing here?!

I kicked the door open and reeled backwards.

There he stood, fists clenched.

Myself. Doppelgänger.

There I stood, fists clenched. Still inside of her, I looked back at me in shock as I looked back at me, my own shock reflected on his face. My face.

Blood painted the walls, no corner of the room was spared at least one drop. Streaks of it crawled up from the head board of her bed in ever more elaborate patterns. Sheets, saturated and soaking with crimson. Pretty patterns on the floor, painted in a frenzy. Her face peeked up from behind his shoulders, completely blank. He laid on top of her, ravaging her lifeless body before tensing up, then relaxing, paying no attention to me. I didn't need an explanation to know what he just finished doing. When he shifted I could see a wide slit on her neck, opening and closing every time he thrust in and out of her.

"Wanna join? She's still warm..." He said in a slow drawl.

I lunged forward without any thought but he pulled out a knife that was buried in her chest and swung it around in one swipe, catching me right in the neck. I grabbed at my throat feeling the blood oozing out from in between my fingers. He hooked the blade into my shoulder and used it to toss me onto the bed beside her, all the while continuing to fuck her. As I continued to fuck her.

"I told you it was a bad idea. I told you to stop. I told you to tell her you couldn't make it and what did you do huh?" I asked myself looking down at me.

"Fuck you!" I screamed back, or at least tried to, only it came out as a wet gurgle instead. Her blank lifeless face rolled towards me. Eyes and mouth open, staring off into infinity. As my life leaked from my body, I too stared off into infinity.

## Chapter 12

Ignition off. Quiet. I always felt uneasy on this street. Maybe it was the willows with their leafy bows turned downwards and the shadows they cast. Maybe it was the quiet. I just never liked being outside on the street for very long.

I stepped out of my car, the breeze passed over my ears and through my hair and sent a chill down my back and I shivered. Maybe it was from nervousness to see her, maybe it was the unsettled feeling. I don't know. I locked the car and walked up to her house.

A feeling of Déjà vu came over me...

Even though it was midday and the sun was high in the sky, there was still barely any light on this street. It's a bit eerie really.

Eyes staring into infinity, the slit in her neck opening and closing with every thrust...

The door opened before I could knock and she stood in the doorway with a smile.

God she's beautiful.

Black wavy hair, fair skin, delicate features. A beauty uncorrupted by the pollution and pain of this world.

"Hey you! My God, you look like you haven't slept in days..."

I just stood there gawking.

"Are you gonna come in?"

I snapped myself out of it and faintly returned her smile.

"Of course," I replied.

She turned and led me into the living room. There were some magazines and an almost empty coffee mug on the coffee table.

The table was living up to its name I guess.

"Here, have a seat. You look exhausted."

She motioned for me to sit on the sofa and I did so. I could feel every aching muscle in my body sighing with relief as I sunk into the cushions.

"Want anything to drink?" She asked as she glided to the kitchen.

"Water please."

I could hear the faucet turn on, filling up a glass. She returned with the water and sat it in front of me on the table before lying back on the couch, and stretching out with the graceful elegance of a swan.

"So where have you been hmm? You don't call, you don't write, no smoke signals..."

I lifted the cool glass of water to my lips and set it back on the table.

"I've just been busy," I said, looking at the glass of water. I couldn't look her in the eyes as I told a flat out lie. Busy? Doing what exac—

"Busy? Doing what exactly?"

Damn she's quick.

"Have you found a job yet? Last I heard you were still looking," she continued.

Job? I don't know. Had I found a job?

"Uh yeah I got a job. They've been having me stay late. Hence the tired," I tried looking at her while I said this but I quickly turned away.

"You're lying."

Wow. Not even five minutes into the conversation and she's already calling me out.

"Tell me what's wrong, you know I can tell when you're lying. And you suck at hiding things."

She sat up and moved closer to me. I always knew she was listening one hundred percent when she did this. Not that she wasn't any other time. But somehow the gesture seemed to let me know without a doubt.

I knew I could be honest with her. I could tell her I killed someone and she would guard the secret. Hell, she'd probably even be my attorney. I knew this and yet, at the same time I felt like I had to choose my wording carefully. Like she was psychoanalyzing everything I was saying. She always seemed to know things about me that I didn't know about myself. And I didn't always like to hear what she had to say, even though she was always right.

"Do you know Charles Green?" I asked.

Bemusement mixed with puzzled interest spilled out on her face.

"The one who was killed yesterday?"

"Yeah. Did you know him?"

"No not really. I mean I knew who he was. He always would go shopping at the Wonder Mart. I saw him a few times."

Charles Green...

I looked up to her. I had never seen a beauty like hers. She wasn't perfect by any means. But who is? There was just something about her, something that changed any imperfections she had into perfections.

I looked back at my water...

...and instead found myself looking out of the front windshield of my car.

I was in the parking lot of the Wonder Mart. Wonder Mart. What a stupid name. The car was off and I was sitting with the windows cracked.

What day was it?

Did I need to get something from here? What was I doing?

I had a good view of the main entrance of the Wonder Mart from where I was parked. Upon noticing this, something clicked and I remembered I was looking for something. Someone maybe?

Did I need to get out of my car? Or was I looking for something in the parking lot?

Shoppers passed in and out of the automatic sliding doors. Carts empty going in and full carts or baskets coming out. A mother with a toddler in the front seat of a full shopping cart came out the doors. She was visibly at the end of her wits. The toddler squirmed around in his seat, his face red from the screaming he must be doing. I couldn't hear him but I could see his face. Mouth open eyes closed, face red, little fists clenched tight. The temper-tantrum pose.

From behind her came a man with a little hand basket. He caught my attention for some reason. He didn't appear to be anything special or out of the ordinary, but my eyes immediately locked on him.

He was a meek, middle-aged man.He struggled to carry his small hand basket. It looked like it had a quart of milk and a loaf of bread stuck out from the top of one of the bags. Only two or three bags at most and the poor guy was having a hard time. He had a receding hairline, and the remainder of his thinned hair was combed back. Thick-framed glasses sat atop his small, round nose. Even from where I was, I could see how magnified his eyes were by the goofy looking glasses.

He headed down the aisle to my right and stopped at a faded, to the point of being pink, red sub-compact car. He popped the hatch and set his groceries in the trunk, closed it and walked back to the entrance of the store to return the basket.

How considerate.

After returning the basket he went back to his car, clearly out of breath. He opened the driver's side door, entered and closed it behind him. A couple seconds later I saw the brake lights come on and he backed slowly from the spot and drove towards the exit of the shopping center.

I started my own car and...

...was now sitting back on her sofa looking at the glass of water on the coffee table.

What was I doing again?

"Hey, you OK?"

Her voice was far away and I could barely understand it, a foreign language to my ears. I turned my head in the direction of the voice and my eyes focused on her. My god she's beautiful.

"Hey. Are you alright? You kinda spaced out on me."

I blinked a few times and shook my head a little bit.

"Yeah, sorry. I'm just tired."

"When was the last time you slept?"

When was the last time I had slept? Actually slept, or just nodded off?

"I slept some last night. Not much though."

"Why did you want to know about Charles Green?"

"I don't know, just saw it in the paper this morning. Thought he might have been a friend of yours or something."

A friend? Why the hell would she be friends with him?

"Nope. So what's the real reason you wanted to meet so bad? I know you didn't come over here just for that."

She already wants to get to the nitty gritty.

"What, I'm not allowed to want to see you after it's been so long?"

Basic diversion tactic. I used it a lot.

"Don't give me that. I can tell when you have something on your mind, so what is it?"

A flat direct tone. She meant business. I loved that tone of hers for some reason.

"Something is happening to me," I started, "I don't know what it is. But I can't remember things very well. I'm having these, these nightmares and I haven't been able to sleep because of them. I feel like I'm awake, but everything just starts going wrong and it feels so real. And sometimes when I am awake, when I know I'm awake, it still happens. I'll be sitting on my couch or something and suddenly I'm somewhere else. You have no idea how real it is, I can feel my body interacting with stuff, touching, feeling the new place I end up and the things in that place."

That was surprisingly honest. And she wasn't judging me or thinking that I'm insane, even though I did. In fact, her "I Mean Business" face slowly melted away into her "Why Didn't You Tell Me Sooner I'm Really Concerned" face.

"And," I continued, "I'm scared. The things I've been seeing are really starting to freak me out. I can't control when it happens. I've even been in my car a couple times when its happened. I think I'm losing my mind."

"In your car? You could have gotten hurt, or killed! You need to see someone about this. Like a professional."

I was about to get defensive but she cut me off.

"I don't think you're crazy. Maybe you're stressed and this is your body's response to the stress, the dreams. Combine that with your lack of sleep which can really mess with you, and it just compounds the problem. You have to figure out a way to stop the cycle. Seriously, you're going to kill yourself if you keep this up."

"They're not stress dreams..."

"How do you know? What have you been dreaming about?"

I don't know was the first thought in my head when she asked this. Dreams, dreams... What was I dreaming about? Was I even having dreams?

I couldn't remember what I had even come here for. What did I think would happen? That she was going to magically make things better?

Make what better?

I don't know.

What was I even telling her about?

"Can we go to my house instead? This street weirds me out. There's no light outside and it's," I looked for the clock. There was one hanging in view in the kitchen. The clock read 2:13 P.M. "And its after two o' clock. Come on, that just isn't right." I smiled at her and added, "And besides, I'm not used to such high class," I said as I looked around her impressively sized and decorated house.

She laughed, such a beautiful sound.

"At least you've still got your sarcasm. Fine, but when we get there will you tell me what's going on? You worry me, you know that?"

I nodded in agreement, "I'll tell you everything when we get there."

Everything. That's funny. Even with a whole day I don't think I'd even be able to scratch the surface of all the things I wanted to talk to her about.

"Good. We'll figure it out. If you can't find a way to stop for yourself, at least do it for me."

Déjà vu again. Why did that sound so familiar?

## Chapter 13

She was a goddess, stunning to look at. I could barely concentrate on driving. I almost wished the drive between our houses was longer just so that I could stay here next to her a bit more. We didn't talk the whole way, she just kept giving me these quick little side glances and I could see the worry on her expression. She was trying to analyze everything she had heard, process it and come up with a solution.

I parked the car in the driveway and got out and she followed me to the door. I must have forgotten to lock it because the door was open.

"It's a little chilly in here," she said as she walked in.

"Yeah I know, there's been something weird going on with the air conditioner," I replied. I walked down the hall and looked at the thermostat. It read 75 degrees.

Son of a bitch. I need to get that thing fixed.

She had already sat down on the couch and I followed, knowing I was going to have to start explaining. No more stall tactics.

"So, what's really going on? You promised you'd tell me everything, what you're dreaming of."

Right on cue.

"I don't really know, there's been so many of them, it's hard to pick just one."

That was vague enough.

"Well pick one of them at least. I know you can remember at least one. Just tell me. You know I'm here because I want to listen and help you, but you always do this where you try and stall and dance around the subject. How am I supposed to help if you don't tell me?"

The concern was genuine in her voice and it comforted me. I was just about to start when there was a knock at the door.

"I'll get it," she said already standing up. "Why is someone knocking on your door this late?" she asked as she headed towards the door.

I just wanted to know why she was answering my door.

Wait, this late? It was just after two o' clock. I looked towards the clock. Big hand is on the eight, little hand was in between the eleven and the twelve.

Almost nine o' clock?

"Hey! Come on in!"

I looked to the door as she invited in an older man. Receding hairline, thick-rimmed glasses and a very noticeable gap in between his two front teeth as he smiled at me.

He held out his hand for me to shake as he walked towards me.

"Charles Green, nice to finally meet you," he said in between a large toothy smile. I could have shown a light in between his two front teeth.

I held my hand out and shook his. Something was obviously wrong with this whole situation. She came back to the couch and sat down right next me, Charles on the other side of her.

"We were just about to start talking about you," she said casually, looking from me to him.

"Oh nothing bad I hope," chuckling as he said it.

She laughed with him and looked back to me.

"Well, what were you going to say?" she asked, looking me in the eye as she said so.

"Oops, hang on a second. I left something in my car," Charles said standing back up and walking to my door, "hold that thought!"

He shut the door behind him and I looked at her in pure confusion.

"What's he doing here?"

"Well, you wanted to know about him so I invited him over."

The door opened up before I had a chance to ask her what the hell was going on.

"I found what I was looking for!" He announced, holding a baseball bat over his shoulder with one hand, in his other, several feet of chain.

I stood up, startled, and backed away, tripping over the coffee table. She didn't even have a chance to scream as he butted her in the forehead with the end of the bat, knocking her backwards over the coffee table and landing at my feet. Blood seeped from a knot, already forming, just above her right eye.

He smiled as he walked towards me, raising the bat above his head. Gone was the meek looking old man. The figure in front of me was the very definition of sinister.

"Now pay attention!"

He swung the bat down with one arm, connecting squarely on the top of my head.

I fell to a heap immediately. The room spun and my ears rang. I saw doubles of him bending over and binding her feet with chains.

"No," I murmured, clawing out for his legs but missing by a mile. The words sounded fuzzy as they left my lips. My head throbbed, pulsing in pain and my thoughts were jumbled. He just flashed his toothy smile.

After he finished binding her legs up, he stood and dragged her lifeless body away from me by the other end of the chain.

"Now you just sit here like a good boy while we have a nice little chat."

The words hit my ears through a haze and didn't register for a second. He dragged her behind the sofa and down the halls towards my room.

"Don't worry, I'll take better care of her than you did," he spat, slamming my bed room door shut.

## Chapter 14

It was late. I wasn't sure quite what time, maybe eight or nine o' clock. I had just got home and I felt drained, exhausted to the point of collapsing. Tear stains streaked my face.

I needed... I actually needed... A friend. A companion. Someone. I needed someone. Just a human connection, a real one, just for a little while.

What was I doing here? I stood at my front door, suddenly not remembering why I was outside in the first place. A chill in the air nipped at me and I didn't have a jacket.

Keys, I needed my keys. I dug around my pant pockets until I found my keys and unlocked the door, staggering past the entryway and slumping over my sofa, legs hanging off the edge of the arm rest.

The adrenaline was wearing off and I felt my body crashing. I've never felt more exhausted in my life. I just lay there on the couch for a while, not sure for how long. My muscles ached and screamed at me and I was panting, out of breath for some reason. I just stared at the patterns on my sofa until the morphed and molded into shapes, faces and... Other things.

I rolled my face over towards the coffee table. It was cluttered with magazines, a plate with a few crumbs on it and a red cup were on the left corner. I should probably take those to the sink and wash them. I wasn't sure how long they had been there.

Forcing myself to stand, I bent over and picked up the plate and cup and walked into the kitchen, but when I got there, I couldn't remember why.

Oh yeah, sink.

I sat them both in the sink, noticing the other dishes that had piled up on the counter. I should probably wash those too. I put the plug in the drain, opened the cabinet under the sink to grab the dish soap and poured some into the sink.

I watched the water fill up the sink, suds foaming up so that I couldn't see through them. I picked up the sponge from behind the faucet and dunked it, squeezing and releasing, letting it fill up with soapy water.

The first dish I grabbed was a bowl with little bits of cereal stuck to the rim. I didn't remember eating cereal. Not this week at least.

Gross.

I turned the faucet off and dipped the bowl under the water. It was warm and felt good after being outside in the cold. You have to enjoy the simple things like the feeling of warm water on a cold night. I should take a shower after I'm done, that would hit the spot. I scraped the cereal out of the bowl with the sponge and finished washing it. I grabbed a towel off of the oven handle behind me and dried the dish and placed it into the cabinet by the pantry.

And the next one is... Dinner plate, remnants of what looked like left over Chinese food. Wonderful. Into the soapy water it went. I had to work to get the dried up chow-mien unglued from the plate.

I cleaned and dried each plate, cup, spoon, fork, knife and pan that was on the counter and reached into the sudsy water, looking for the plate and red cup I had first set in the sink. I could feel little bits of food and noodles at the bottom, squishing under my fingers.

I have a pretty strong stomach but the thought of old food and feeling my fingers squish it made me gag a little. I felt around a little more and found the plate. This one was easy at least, there had only been crumbs on it. Must have been a sandwich or toast or something but I didn't remember eating those either. I dried it and placed it in its respective cabinet drawer nearest the refrigerator. Just the cup and then I could shower. I stuck my hand back into the soapy water with the little bits of food debris floating around in it. Sickening.

I touched the bottom of the sink again and felt around until my fingers settled on something small and hard. It was kind of jagged at one end.

What the hell is that?

I took my hand out of the water, soap running down my arm to my elbow, and held the thing up in front of my face.

A tooth.

I dropped it into the sink and reeled backwards, my stomach dropping.

...cheek bones extending outwards, my forehead broadening, grabbed my head, trying futilely to push my features back into place. Another tooth clinking onto the tile...

The dream blared into my mind, the memory of my forehead stretching and broadening... I could feel it.

I hurried back to the sink and fumbled for the drain plug but something brushed against my hand in the water.

Just ignore it, get the plug and get out...

It felt like hair.

Just grab the fucking plug and GET OUT.

There it was. I grabbed it and pulled. The suction made my arm jerk backwards as the plug came out, splashing soap in my eyes.

"Dammit!" I said out loud, throwing the plug at the counter, trying to wipe the soap out of my already burning eyes, before realizing that wiping soapy water into my eyes with my hand wouldn't help. I felt around, blindly for the towel I had set on the counter.

Crumbs, crumbs, water, crumbs... Found it.

The drain made a gargling sound as the last of the water flowed down the pipes. I dried my hands on the towel, and they shook as I wiped my eyes free from dish soap.

I blinked. No... No, no no. Just because I felt it, doesn't mean it's real...

I blinked again but it was still there; a matted a clump of black hair slowly circling around the drain, stopping just before the edge. Little soap bubbles glistened off the tangled mess.

It's not real, it's not real...

I clenched my eyes shut, repeating the line to myself, hoping that when I opened them the hair would be gone.

Reluctantly, I opened my eyes back up. No clumps of hair to be found in the sink. I braced myself on the counter with my arms and let my head fall into them.

You're just tired. Take a shower and get some rest.

That thought sounded good. I needed sleep desperately.

## Chapter 15

I am not easily understood. This I know. I have a hard time understanding myself sometimes. Most of the time. My thoughts constantly jump and jumble and interweave into one continuous mess of words. There are very few things that I am certain of. But being difficult to understand... That I am certain of. What am I trying to say? I don't know anymore.

The water coursed its way from the top of my head down to my feet. I could feel each exquisite droplet rolling down my body, slowly working their magic and pulling the aches from deep within my muscles. I exhaled and took in a deep breath.

This must be what breathing for the first time feels like.

Lung tissue swelling with oxygen, head clearing as each molecule saturated my lungs with sweet, sweet air. A temporary relief from infinite insanity.

Told ya you just needed a shower...

Something my head and I agreed on.

My eyes opened and I looked at the palms of my hands. I don't know why, but I just stared at them for a moment. I dropped them to my side and stood there with my head bowed under the water.

I want it to end.

I need sleep.

I need to get out of the shower.

I need it to end.

My day was already a blur in my memory. There wasn't one thing in particular that I could remember. I know I woke up early, left my house and now I'm here. I am here right?

Are you?

That wasn't reassuring.

I begrudgingly reached for the knob and turned the water off. I could feel the droplets on my body, rapidly cooling on my skin now that the steam was dissipating. I slid the glass shower door open and stepped out. The tile chilled my feet.

I dried myself and ran a brush through my hair. It was starting to get a little long. I needed a hair cut. I wiped the steam from the mirror and I looked again at my face. Nothing was different. No abnormally widened forehead, no bulbous nose or slanted cheek bones. I even opened my mouth and checked to make sure all my teeth were there. Not one was missing.

That was a little reassuring at least.

I exited the bathroom into my bedroom and it looked normal too, everything in its proper place. I went to my dresser and pulled out a pair of pajama bottoms and grabbed a plain white t-shirt. I looked at my bed and it called for me, pleaded for me to lie down, rest my head... Drift off to sleep. I promised it that I would soon, but I was starving.

I walked down the hall, through my living room and into my kitchen. The clock on the stove read 10:34 P.M. My stomach growled in agony, I needed to eat. I couldn't even remember if I had eaten at all the whole day. I opened the refrigerator, clutching my stomach with my right hand and peered inside. I hate it when there's a fridge full of food, but nothing to eat.

Off to the pantry next. Pancake mix, various canned foods, chips, some flour and pasta noodles. Hmm. Nothing too appetizing. I removed the flour from the front of the cupboard and set it on the counter along with the chips and a couple cans of soup or something, maybe there was something in the back. I looked at one of the labels on the cans. Cream of mushroom. I wrinkled my nose and sat it alongside of the chips. If that was what I had at the front, then my hopes weren't high for what's in the back, but I could be wrong.

Well look at that, squashed at the back was a bag of bread. I could make a sandwich at least. Bread behind the chips. Well, that shows just how often I make myself anything to eat. I sat it on the counter next to the chips and went back to the fridge.

There was some sliced turkey and cheese in the little drawer inside. I don't know what that little drawer was called. Damn. I really should eat the food I have at home instead of grabbing fast food.

Meat, cheese, mayonnaise, mustard. Sandwich. That actually wasn't too bad. I thought it would take longer for some reason. I reached to the cupboard to get a plate. I grabbed one, but when I brought it down I knocked the bag of flour over, spilling it all across the floor. At least I would have an excuse to clean it. I don't think I had done that in awhile.

I bent down to pick the bag up and—

"You're coming with me."

A steely, ice-cold voice. Familiar... My voice.

He grabbed me with both hands by my head and yanked me up from the floor, forcing me to look him directly int he eyes. Nothing but blackness stared back at me. My kitchen began fading, my sink, refrigerator.... Blackness swallowed them up into snaking tendrils, the room shook and he squeezed my head harder. My vision quaked as everything else was enveloped in darkness. A darkness blacker than black.

And then there was....

Nothing....

Nothing existed....

It was just nothingness....

And cold....

Just....

Still....

# Book 2: Immersed
## Chapter 1

The diner was unusually crowded. People were chatting and the waiters and waitresses were bustling about, grabbing plates from one table, delivering appetizers to another. It was a long drive to such a mediocre place, but this is where he wanted to meet.

Charles Green sat across from me, lazily chewing on a piece of chicken-fried steak. How could he even eat that? Grease pooled underneath the meat on his plate, and more oozed out of it as he cut into it with his knife. He was relishing it though. Whatever suited him I suppose. I was at his mercy for him even agreeing to meet me in the first place.

I looked at my plate, a half-eaten cheeseburger and stale fries growing steadily colder. I didn't have much of an appetite. I took another sip of my water—probably tap water—and looked back at Charles. While he was clearly savoring his meal, he didn't seem to have the same affection towards me.

"Thanks for this," I said, feeling more and more awkward the more he stared at me.

He nodded without saying a word cut another piece of steak and popped it into his mouth. He chewed it slowly, not breaking his gaze, swallowed with a gulp and wiped his hands off on a napkin. I think that was the first time he took his eyes off me this whole time.

"I'm not doing this for you," he started, stopping to finish the last bit of food in his mouth before continuing, "but I know you can take care of her and that she needs that right now."

The words were reluctant to leave his lips, like they were desperately trying to stay inside in his mouth before being forcefully expelled, spitefully and ungracefully. I wasn't exactly thrilled about this turn of events either, but at least I hid it better than he did.

"So yes, I'll talk to her. I'll let you know what she says. We're done here."

He wiped his mouth off with the napkin and left the table.

It was sunny outside but there was a slight breeze. Charles leaned against my car with his arms crossed. As goofy as he looked in those damn glasses, he still intimidated me. After I got in my car and unlocked his door, he got in, buckled himself and stared blankly out his window.

I started the car and backed out of the parking spot, unfortunately catching his eye when I turned to look behind me.

There wasn't much traffic which was nice at least. Not only was the diner way out of the way, I had to pick him up and drop him off at his house.

I wanted to say something, anything, just to break the quiet but there was nothing more to say. Besides, I don't think my voice would have pierced the tension in the air.

We drove and drove and drove until he finally said, "It's over here on the right."

I put on my blinker and turned into the parking lot. Some diner stood out in the center of the lot, a big pink neon sign jutted off the roof spelling out "Peggy's Diner." Looked tacky in the day time, it was probably worse at night.

It hardly seemed worth the drive, but this is where he wanted to go. Fair enough.

We got out of the car, not saying a word to each other, and walked in. The diner was busy; patrons were talking, the waiters and waitresses were hurrying from table to table, taking orders, refilling drinks, and busting tables so the next group could be seated.

We were sat at the back of the diner near a big window. The sun shone through and hurt my eyes a little. He sat on the other side of me, granting him some shade from the glare of the sun, but I didn't complain. I was at his mercy since he even agreed to meet me in the first place.

I opened my menu, not really caring what I was going to eat, I didn't have much of an appetite.

Without looking from his menu, and without a hint of genuine care in his voice he said, "The chicken-fried steak is good here."

Like he actually cared.

The waitress came to our table. She was pretty. Slim, blonde hair, friendly face, and her uniform complimented her figure nicely.

"And what'll we be havin' today?"

The fake enthusiasm was far too transparent.

"I'll have the New York steak, medium rare with a baked potato and an ice tea to drink" said Charles.

Fucker had to go and get the most expensive thing on the menu since I was the one who would end up paying.

"OK," as she wrote down his order, "and for you?"

"The chicken-fried steak please. French fries on the side and I'll stick with water to drink."

"Coming right up!"

She took our menus and disappeared into the kitchen which was right across from us. Charles looked up at me, his eyes magnified behind thick-rimmed glasses.

I would have been more comfortable giving a speech in front of Congress.

"So," he intensified his gaze, "what would you have me do?"

I knew exactly what I wanted him to do, but I couldn't find the words. Those damn eyes...

"I need to talk to her and we didn't leave on the best terms, and she always listens to you—" begging, I was actually begging him for help "—I was hoping... Maybe you could talk to her, and just... Just see if you could convince her to talk with me."

I hated it, but there wasn't much else I could do.

"Yeah well, she doesn't always listen."

The waitress came back and set our meals in front of us. The aroma of grease and the unmistakable stench of over-processed cow met my nostrils.

As fast as the food appeared, my appetite disappeared.

He cut into his steak and the juices flowed from it. He greedily shoveled it into his mouth while I played with my own food with my knife. The sponge like "steak" expelled grease with every poke and prod.

Not wanting to be the only one not eating, I cut into the steak, averting my eyes from the plate.

Charles polished off almost half of his meal before finally speaking again.

"I'm not doing this for you," he began, stopping to finish the last bit of food in his mouth before continuing, "but I know you can take care of her and she needs that right now."

The words were forced, and familiar to my ears.

I slammed my fists onto the table and shut my eyes.

"Enough!" I screamed out. I had seen this same scenario unfold at least a dozen times now.

Sometimes I had the chicken-fried steak, sometimes he did. Sometimes I ate nothing. Sometimes it was nighttime, other times it was breakfast. There was a redhead waitress, a brunette waitress and a blonde waitress. One of them was really old and others were young. Peggy's Diner, Sue's Diner, Moe's Diner, The Resthouse. The name changed every time but it was always the same fucking diner.

A copy of a copy of a copy.

## Chapter 2

Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!

My eyes snapped open. I rolled over in my bed and smacked the alarm clock until I found the "Off" button. Where was I? I sat up in my bed, my own bed. In my own room.

I couldn't remember a thing about last night and my head was throbbing. I rose from bed and walked through my open bedroom door into the hallway. I wasn't going to bother getting dressed yet, I didn't even want to be awake but I needed aspirin.

Stacks of dishes were piled up on the counter, which I really should take care of, but I'll get to them later. First thing first.

I opened the cabinet above the sink, knocking aside various bottles of whatever until I found the aspirin. I popped the child-safety lock and dumped several of the tablets into my mouth and guzzled water from the sink faucet.

What the hell did I do last night? It's not like I spent the night drinking with friends. The idea of me spending time with "friends" made me laugh a little. I started back to my room when I remembered I had some laundry left in the garage.

I went to the garage to the washer against the wall and opened up the lid, took the clothes out and opened the dryer door and tossed handfuls of soggy clothes in. The smell of laundry soap stuck to my hands even after I dried them off. It would take about 45 minutes for the clothes to dry. The noise from the dryer immediately brought back the headache that the aspirin was just starting to dull away.

I groaned and headed back to the hallway door. When I opened it, I noticed the door to my office was open.

So was your bedroom door when you woke up. Since when do you EVER leave the doors open?

I don't leave them open.

The house seemed much colder than before I went into the garage. I rubbed my hands together and already saw goosebumps popping up on my legs and arms. I walked over to the office door and closed my hand around the knob.

I paused for a moment to take a quick look around but I didn't see anything unusual, so I shut the door.

I don't know what it was, but I felt... Different. There was a particular emotion I could feel, but I couldn't tell what it was. I've never been great at identifying feelings. I shook it off and went back into my bedroom so I could get dressed.

The first place I usually looked for clothes to wear was the floor, but I didn't see any there so I went to my dresser instead. I grabbed a navy blue T-shirt from the top drawer, black pants from the second to last drawer and socks from the middle drawer. I hopped around on one foot until I was able to get the pants up and then sat on the bed to get the shirt and socks on.

I grabbed a navy blue t-shirt from the top drawer, black pants from the second to last drawer and socks from the middle drawer.

Navy-blue shirt, top drawer. Black pants from the second to last. Socks from the middle... Was that right?

I got up off the bed and went back to my dresser and opened the top drawer. Yep, inside were shirts. At least the few that were left. The rest were in the dryer right now. Blue, gray, black, brown, white. Shirts. Why was this strange? I couldn't quite put my finger on it but it bothered me. And that feeling I had in the hallway was creeping back up on me. It made me feel heavy. Like my limbs were made from lead. I had to sit back down on my bed, but that just made it harder to breathe. I inhaled deeper and deeper to get a normal breath of air and my head went blank for a moment. I exhaled shakily, which confused me, and I felt my eyes welling up.

A tear drop plopped down onto my hand. More little drops spilled over the rim of my eyelids and fell. The tears were warm but they cooled quickly and evaporated off my face, leaving streaks. I didn't know what was wrong but I couldn't stop the tears from flowing. I let myself fall back onto my pillows and rolled over onto my side, crying shamelessly until I drifted off to sleep.

## Chapter 3

It must have been quite some time later when I woke up, no light at all came in through the curtains. I peeled my face off my pillow, soggy from my crying, and sat up. I couldn't explain what had come over me, I just cried. Not only that, I cried myself to sleep. I didn't know what to make of it, but it was rejuvenating though.

What time was it? How odd, my alarm clock wasn't on my nightstand.

A loud crack from outside my door interrupted my thoughts, but I didn't remember shutting my door before I passed out.

The house started shaking and without a thought, I turned and jumped over my bed to the other side and ducked down.

I peeked under the bed, a crushing sense of dread washed over me. My chest tightened, my breathing became shallow, quick breaths. Sweat slicked my palms and my heart pounded in my ears.

Not again, please not again... What new horror would come for me this time? Is this another dream? Am I awake?

Details, look for the details!

Dresser, television, closet... But what color is the dresser supposed to be? My clock? Did I have a clock? I have to have a clock, but maybe I misplaced it or knocked it some—

Silence, dead silence for only a split second...

The bedroom door pealed off its hinges with a loud crack and was sucked away backwards down the hall, drywall and wood snapped and crashed into the walls and air rushed around my room—sending papers flying, knocking over my lamp and pulling my closet door open.

My breathing increased to a frantic pace and I felt a cold sweat breaking out on my forehead.

Details, details, details. Remember the details, this can't be real... Breathe. Just breathe... In one, two, three, four... Out one, two, three, four...

A black vortex twisted its way down the hall, tearing apart everything in its path. Drywall crumbled and support beams were ripped from their foundations and sucked into the cyclone. The roof was torn apart and shingles flew into the spiraling mass of what used to be my house. It advanced slowly, taking its time, ensuring that everything was devoured before continuing further on its rampage.

My bed shook, the legs jumping and slamming into the ground and lurched towards the doorway. I stayed low, and clung desperately to the leg but it rattled so violently that it hurt my hands.

The pillows and sheets were pulled out the entryway, sucked up like a giant vacuum, and my television slammed into the walls. Glass shattered and the television stand hit the door frame, taking a chunk out of it, before being sent into the abyss.

The vortex was just a few feet from the doorway now. The pain was unbearable and I let go of the bed leg and clenched my fists, trying to nurse the blood back into my fingers. The legs clattered on the floor before the bed rose completely off the ground and flew towards the door, getting caught in the doorway for a moment before collapsing in the middle like a toothpick, and finally consumed by the unstoppable maw.

The vortex stopped at my doorway, throwing dust and debris into my now exposed face. The curtains ripped away from the bar on the window which went hurtling into the vortex like a javelin. The window exploded, sending glass zooming about my room like little razors, slicing at my skin and drawing blood every time. I looked behind me just as my dresser drawers were pulled out, and my entire wardrobe went into the spiral.

I scrambled toward my closet, clawing and fighting against the pull of the vortex. I dug my nails into the carpet, using every bit of strength I had to keep from getting sucked into the black spiral. With a last burst of energy, I leapt and grabbed the edge of the open closet door, clinging on by my fingertips.

With the remainder of my energy, I pulled myself into the closet and shut the door, gripping the doorknob with everything I had to hold the door shut, as the vortex whipped debris around like a blender. My ears rang with the racket, I couldn't hear a thing, not even the thoughts in my head.

I shut my eyes and prayed it would end quickly.

## Chapter 4

I sat there in my closet for what seemed like hours, holding the door shut until the vortex subsided. I relaxed my grip on the door knob and stayed put for a moment while I collected myself.

Silence. Pure silence. There's a thing called the "anechoic chamber" that's in this lab somewhere. It's the world's quietest room. Supposedly, it's so quiet that you can hallucinate because you hear all the noise going on inside your body, like your blood circulating, your lungs moving against the walls of your chest. It starts making you go crazy. The longest anyone has stayed in there is 45 minutes.

I bet I could do better.

I just witnessed a tornado tearing through my house, I've died a few times now—not sure of the exact number... Along with all the other stuff going on, I'm still breathing. Maybe not entirely sane, but alive. I bet I could live inside that chamber.

My breathing gradually calmed down and I was able to stand. I opened the closet door and stepped into the wreckage of what used to be my room.

The silence followed me into the room, the dust hadn't quite settled yet and I sucked it up into my nose and mouth as I inhaled, making me cough. The echoes of the noise ricocheted around the indescribable wreckage, not so much from what was damaged but what wasn't damaged.

A few scratches here and there on the walls from where furniture and glass had banged into and sliced up, but for the most part the room wasn't touched. The roof was still intact over my head as well but the doorway that used to lead into my hallway was piled up with rubble though. Twisted metal frames jigged and jagged—ready to impale some unfortunate person, probably me—and snapped beams jutted out from underneath drywall and tile. I could even make out various food items that had to have come from the kitchen.

I was completely blocked in.

Outside the window from my room was only blackness, like the vortex dragged the entire sky into its heart. There was nothing.

Literally, nothing.

I walked back to the corner by the closet and slumped into it.

This made no sense.

I held my head in my hands, trying to think of something, anything that I could do. It could take days, weeks even, to unblock the doorway from the wreckage. Not to mention I didn't have any food or water.

Looks like you're shit out of luck.

Shut up.

You could always jump out the window.

Possibly. But what was out there?

I got back up and went to the window and winced from a sharp pain in my foot. Balancing against the wall, I held my foot up and saw a chunk of glass embedded deep into the ball of my foot. I gritted my teeth and ripped it out with my fingers and set my foot back on the ground. Blood oozed out and I wiped it away. I hadn't even taken two steps when another piece of glass lodged itself in my other foot.

"Dammit," I muttered as I pulled the other piece out. I stepped carefully, trying to avoid the glass, as I made my way to the window. The frame was warped and a few shards of glass jutted out like daggers. Carefully, I stuck my head out the window. There was nothing in any direction. Just blackness. Not even the ground was there and I couldn't see the outside walls of my house. And the air... No chill, no warmth no movement at all... Nothing. It's like the outside world didn't exist anymore.

Just jump.

I don't know what will happen though.

It's not like you _'_ ll fall and break something. There's nothing there.

No.

Come on... Just do it.

"NO!" I shouted out loud.

I stepped back from the window and planted my foot on yet another piece of glass.

"FUCK!"

I hopped on one foot, holding it with both hands, smearing blood all over the walls as I tried to keep balance. I stumbled into the corner opposite my closet and dug the glass out.

I sighed and dismally looked at the pile of rubble in my doorway again. There was no way I was going to get out that way.

You can always try the window!

Shut the fuck up.

I put my hand up on the wall to pull myself up but I touched something metallic. Metallic and it twisted...

I looked up and saw a doorknob.

A doorknob?

I used it to pull myself up. My feet were tender and I could feel the blood seeping out and staining the floor.

Sure enough, there was a doorknob in my hands. Which was connected to—

A door.

Yes a door, but where the hell did it come from?

Does it matter? Go through it.

Just minute ago you were telling me to jump out a window into nothingness.

And now I'm telling you to go through the door.

I tip-toed back to the window and looked to the left, trying to see if there was anything that the door would lead to. But there was nothing.

Jump through the window!

Make up your mind!

I went back to the door and stood there looking at it before putting my ear up to it and listened.

I could hear voices now. Not sure how many there were, maybe two? Three?

"Hello?" I called out, knocking on the door at the same time.

"HellOOOooo?"

No response. I couldn't make out the words the voices were saying, only indecipherable chatter.

"Hello!" I banged on the door again but still got no response.

I threw my arms down in frustration and paced back and forth. There was a pile of well, my house in my doorway, a window that led into nothing and a door that had magically appeared with voices behind it that didn't respond to me.

Not an ideal situation.

I kept pacing, trying to make up my mind. I could try to unblock the doorway, but if the window was any indication of what I might find once I moved the rubble—however long that would take—then it didn't seem like that would help me much. And the window... That just seemed like a bad idea.

Wait a minute.

I carefully moved over to the pile of rubble and yanked a piece of wood, maybe from the coffee table in the living room, out of the pile. I tip-toed again back to the window and held my arm out with the battered piece of wood.

Should be interesting...

I released my fingers and watched it fall and fall until I couldn't see it anymore. It made no sound.

Good thing I didn't try the window.

Oh come on, I was just trying to be proactive.

I started pacing again, stepping on yet another piece of glass.

"Motherfuckerpieceofshitsonofabitch! FUCK!"

I held my foot up and ripped the glass out and threw it at the wall, shattering it into even smaller pieces. I stormed back over to the other side of the room and slammed my fist into the wall, punching a hole clear through it.

Only one thing left to do....

I had to go through the door.

I turned the knob, unsure of what I would find on the other side. I took a breath and one last look at my bedroom. I turned away from the carnage and slowly opened the door.

## Chapter 5

A blinding, pulsating light splashed over me. I put my arms up over my face to block it but it didn't help. I stumbled forward, trying to feel in front of me with one arm while shielding my eyes with the other.

The door swung shut behind me and I turned around at the noise, losing my balance. I flailed out with my arms trying to catch myself on something but I fell flat on my face.

The light slowed its pulse and dimmed each time. I rolled over onto my back squeezing my eyes shut, half from pain and half because I was still blinded. The light faded and faded until it stayed steady—bright, but not too bright.

I sat up and found myself in a room that was completely bare. The walls were white, so white they seemed to produce a light of their own, the only explanation I had as to where the light source came from. The floor was stark white as well, like some sort of linoleum or something.

How exciting. Maybe you can decorate.

As sarcastic of a thought as it was, it seemed to fit. There was absolutely nothing in here. I turned my head to look at the door. It was still there, the outline of it barely stood out against the reflective white walls.

I stood up, head still fuzzy from my fall and retinas still stained, and walked along the walls of the room. It wasn't very large, maybe 10' x 10' at most. I couldn't really tell where the ceiling was, it just blended in with the rest of the room, but so did everything. The only reference I had was the brass door knob. Without it I wouldn't be able to gauge distance at all.

But where were the voices that I heard?

Over here!

Shut up.

No, no... Over here!

Shut. Up.

The voice in my head actually did to seem to be coming from different sides of the room though...

Pst!

It came from my left this time and I turned, hoping to catch whatever it was. But I saw nothing.

What the hell is going on?

Think... What were you doing before you got here?

Almost being killed by a vortex that just appeared inside my house?

No... Before then.

Sleeping?

Before that... Come on! Think harder!

As he said it, bits and pieces started coming back to me.

You were sitting on your couch... Falling asleep... And you dreamed about her...

I was sitting on my couch. I felt exhausted. When was the last time I had slept? I let my head fall back on the cushion, kicked my feet up on the table and got comfortable.

I opened my eyes to the sun shining, blue skies overhead while a cool breeze rustled my hair. I tried to sit up but there was a weight on my chest. I peered down past my nose to see her head resting on me. Her wavy black hair tickled my nose and faint scents of vanilla drifted into my nostrils. It made me feel warm. The grass was making my arms and head itch so I shifted a little. She stirred in her sleep and slowly lifted her head up. Her deep brown eyes blinked from the sun, finally focusing their gaze straight into my own eyes. She smiled and I smiled back.

"Come on!"

She rolled off of me and stood up all in one motion while at the same time, grabbing my arm and attempting to pull me.

"Oh come on, just a few more minutes. I like laying down better!"

I playfully resisted her. She bent forward, planted her heels and yanked my arm.

"Get up!" She cried.

I have to admit she had a pretty strong grip, it felt like my arm was being pulled from its socket. I pulled back just a little more to continue the play fight a few seconds longer. I liked seeing her butt perked out while she put her back into her efforts. I finally gave in and stood up quickly, causing her to fall over.

"That was rude!" She exclaimed, the hint of a smile on the corners of her mouth.

"So was ripping my arm off," I said as I rubbed my shoulder. It actually did hurt a little. I walked to her and held my hand to pull her up. She let out a playful squeal and took off running.

"Come on!" she shouted, already way ahead of me. I chased after her, the sun glaring in my eyes, cushy grass beneath my feet. She finally stopped at the edge of a steep drop off. It had to be hundreds of feet high.

She stood there, staring out into the distance and I followed her gaze. It was beautif—

"It's beautiful," she whispered. Both of us were completely awestruck by the view. The sun was setting over the mountains in the distance, the sky illuminated by oranges, reds, violets and yellows. A golden glow shined from the tips of the mountaintops as the sun's rays settled down upon them.

"They're all my favorite colors," she continued staring out as if hypnotized, "and I'll never be able to see them anymore thanks to you."

"What? What are you talking about?"

She turned to me and with a sudden movement, shoved me. I tried to catch my balance but I fell over the edge. Her face quickly grew smaller and smaller and the wind whistled in my ears so loud that it hurt. I plummeted and twisted and turned as I fell. The ground was rushing up at me and the last thought I had in my head was—

## Chapter 6

I opened my eyes, it was dark and the room was stuffy. I tried to sit up but there was a weight on my chest. I peered down past my nose to see her head resting on me. Her wavy black hair tickled my nose and faint scents of vanilla drifted into my nostrils. It made me feel warm. She stirred in her sleep and slowly lifted her head up. Her eyes blinked, still heavy from sleep, finally focusing their gaze straight into my own eyes. She smiled and I smiled back.

## Chapter 7

No. None of that happened that way.

I opened my eyes and immediately shut them again, blinded once more by the glaringly white walls.

It wasn't? How do you know?

Because it just wasn't. If I died, then how am I here?

That could be the exact reason why you're here.

Good point.

That was one of my favorite memories of her. Only I knew that obviously wasn't how the memory went. Not exactly at least, I don't remember a cliff. Or getting pushed off one, and I don't think I'm dead...

No. I'm not dead. Of course I'm not.

Keep telling yourself that.

I don't want to be here right now.

So don't be.

What do you mean?

You don't want to be here, so don't be here. Why not go somewhere else?

To where?

I know the perfect place.

The room began shifting from a bright white to pitch black. A small pinpoint globe of light grew just off in the distance ahead of me.

Little rays of sunlight shown through the thick canopy of willows....

...I parked the car and turned the ignition off. 24976 Sunny Way. I was here.

Just be yourself!

What a stupid saying. Who else would you be?

I was nervous and got out of the car and took a look at the street. It wasn't even getting dark yet but it seemed like it was the middle of the night.

Sunny Way? I don't think so. The willows blocked out all but the tiniest slivers of sun, which never stayed in one spot for long. The breeze made the rays dance as the willows swayed, the rustling of the leaves the only thing that broke the stillness.

I wasn't sure why, but this street just made me feel uncomfortable. I walked to the door and took a breath. My nervous anxiety was making my palms sweat. I was going to meet her dad today and I had heard some things about him. Nothing that I liked, but regardless, I wanted to make a good impression.

Just be yourself!

I wiped my hands off on my pants and knocked on the door.

A middle-aged man with big thick-framed glasses and a receding hairline opened the door. He smiled at me revealing a large gap in between his two front teeth.

"You must be Mr. Green," I said as I held out my hand to shake his.

## Chapter 8

He took my hand and shook it, firmly.

"You're right about that," he said cheerfully, "come on in, dinner is almost ready."

"Thank you," I returned his smile and stepped inside.

The house smelled of roast beef and potatoes, I could already tell that dinner would taste amazing. She always cooked the best meals. I followed Mr. Green to the living room and sat on the opposite side of the couch as him. He crossed his legs, folded his arms and looked me over like he was studying me. Must be where she gets it from. I folded my arms as well and tried to think of something to say. He sucked on his teeth, still looking at me with intense curiosity.

"So," he began, "what do you do for a living?"

I hated that question. It's such typical small talk. Not to mention that I wasn't exactly living the high life with my job. Anytime you say what your job is, it's like you get judged as a person based off what you do.

"Well, I work for a company that sells uh..." I paused and cleared my throat nervously.

Cars, high end electronics, insurance any of those is better than what you really do.

Just be yourself!

He cocked his eyebrow, waiting for me to continue.

"Ahem, sorry about that. Uh, we sell copy machines."

Unimpressed was an understatement of the expression on his face. He sucked on his teeth again, quickly glancing to his left and then back at me.

"You sell... copy machines? Do people even still buy copy machines?"

The mocking tone in his voice wasn't disguised at all.

I saw her poke her head in from the kitchen, which connected to the living room. She mouthed "I'm so sorry," to me and went back.

"I guess they do, otherwise we wouldn't sell them. Well, I mean, the company does. Sells them I mean. I don't. I'm a uh, security guard."

"Security guard? For a copy machine store?" He raised his eyebrows as he said this, like he was in disbelief that something that stupid could actually exist. I knew how stupid it sounded, shit, I'd have the same look on my face if someone told me that. I hated my job. And while getting paid to essentially do nothing isn't really a bad thing, it definitely doesn't help you feel like you do something that actually matters or leave much of an impression on people.

I could feel my face getting red and my palms were sweating even worse than before.

"Yeah, I know right?" I said as I scratched the back of my head nervously.

"Dinner is ready!"

Oh thank God.

The sound of her voice made me feel better instantly. I can't stand awkward situations. Like being in an elevator with one other person. It's so strange, I mean, what are you supposed to do? You can make small talk which can make both people feel uncomfortable, or you can stare off to nowhere which is still awkward. There's really no good way to handle it.

I followed Mr. Green to the other side of the house into the dining room and sat at the seat closest to the wall. I caught her eye again as she came into the room with a big platter of roast beef in one hand and a plate of potatoes in the other.

We both smiled at the same time and I mouthed "thank you" to her.

Mr. Green sat down directly across from me.

Great. I already knew he wasn't impressed at all with me.

Just be yourself!

Shut up.

## Chapter 9

I was back inside the room again. My head was racing. With every thought that passed through my mind, the room changed with it. It morphed from inside different houses to outside on a grassy hill, back to my house to inside the security room at Copymate Copy Machines. Sunshine, dark rooms, cool breezes, summer heat that made me sweat. I saw old classrooms and teachers, friends from over the years. My parents and my family. Inside of a car and driving, or just walking.

The room changed with every thought that I had.

Concentrate.

How am I supposed to do that?

"HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO DO THAT?" My own voice boomed and echoed around the room and the words spelled themselves out as I thought it.

You need some help. I can help.

"Yes, please! Help!" I screamed out loud.

"YES PLEASE HELP!"

Give me a face, and a body. I'm just the voice inside your head right now. Build me a body and I can help. It will be easier if you use yourself as me.

"How?"

"HOW?"

The voice engulfed me. My head felt like it was splitting open. As soon as I thought it, I heard a sickening crunch and the top of my skull started splitting down the middle. I felt the skin stretch and rip and blood began pouring down my face.

Concentrate dammit! Put your head back together!

I could barely hear him over my screaming. The pain was excruciating.

Put it back together! Concentrate on creating me and it will stop!

I tried to clear my head but nothing worked. Every time I saw a new change in the room, it triggered a new thought which in turn triggered a new change followed by a new thought. How do you think about not thinking? I tried shutting my eyes so I didn't have to see the room but I just saw myself in my mind shutting my eyes so I didn't have to see the room but I just saw myself in my mind shutting my eyes so I didn't have to see the room but I just saw myself in my mind shutting my eyes so I didn't have to see the room.

Concentrate!

And suddenly everything just stopped.

Let me help.

As he said it, I could finally focus. He needed feet to stand on and legs. He needed a body and arms and a neck. And lastly he needed a head. I could see him now. He looked just like me. At first glance, he seemed to have the same tired look in his blue eyes that I did, only they were much sharper. A kindness that glossed over his true intent and a slight malevolence I couldn't quite place. I realized he wasn't wearing anything but as soon as I thought that thought, he was dressed the same as I was. He looked at his arms and hands, curling and uncurling his fingers in decadent delight at the discovery. He closed his eyes and inhaled.

"Let me help you," he said, focusing his eyes on me.

Get me out of here.

"I'll show you how."

How did he hear me?

"Because I'm you. So let's get us out."

## Chapter 10

He knelt down next to me and put his hands on my cheeks. They were cold. I looked at him, at myself, and my head stayed quiet.

"It can be a little hectic in here sometimes can't it?"

I wanted to say something, but it's strange looking at another person who looks just like you so I just stared back blankly.

He stood up and nonchalantly walked around the perimeter of the room, talking as he paced.

"So many things going on at once, it's hard to keep track of everything. But we need to keep track of what's happened don't we? We're in here for a reason right?"

He stopped from across the room and looked at me again.

"We're in here for a reason, aren't we?" He asked again.

I nodded my head yes.

"But the question is why... I think we need to retrace our steps, go back over everything that has happened the last couple of days and figure out why we're here. If we can do that, then we can get out."

What the fuck was he talking about?

The door. The door! I looked to my side remembering the door I had first used to get into this room.

The Voice In My Head followed my eyes to the door. His face was unimpressed as he said, "Do you really think it's that easy? Try it."

He motioned with his head at the door.

I stood on shaking legs and used the wall to balance. It was hard to keep focus, the room felt like it was constantly moving and flickering between one scene to another.

The door was parted, allowing a thin ray of light to fall upon the floor. Shadows moved across the ray of light and I could hear noise.

I had to move slowly to keep from stumbling over the changing landscapes.

The door opened before I could even knock and she stood in the doorway with a smile.

God she's beautiful.

One...

I stood at my front door suddenly not remembering why I was outside in the first place. It was kind of cold and I didn't have a jacket.

Thing...

I gripped the door knob, perhaps it was open?

To another...

I put my ear to the door and listened. I could hear ragged breathing just outside as if whatever it was out there had its head pressed against the door just like I did.

I opened my eyes...

I already knew what I would see when I opened them.

"No.. That's impossible..."

"NO THAT'S IMPOSSIBLE."

The words echoed around.

THE WORDS ECHOED AROUND.

I could hear footsteps behind me. The Voice In My Head had followed me through the door.

I COULD HEAR FOOTSTEPS BEHIND ME THE VOICE IN MY HEAD HAD FOLLOWED ME THROUGH THE DOOR.

"You're losing focus again. Try to keep your thoughts focused on one thing."

I tried to calm my breathing and I pictured myself in my mind being calm in my mind being calm in my mind being calm in my mind being calm....

"Stop it!"

He slapped me across the face and it stung.

"Listen to me. We're in here for a reason. This room will reflect whatever thoughts you have in your head so stay focused. I can help, but I can't do all the work. If you start panicking and freaking out then I can't do a whole lot. Stay calm and focused and I can at least keep things... Settled down. If you want to leave from here I suggest you start listening to me."

"I want out."

He smiled at me.

It was still impossible though. I had walked through the doorway in the white room into the same room I had just left. The door was still open but I couldn't see past it. I walked back to the doorway and stepped through...

...Into the same room.

"Told ya' it wouldn't be that easy," His voice rang out behind me. I turned back around to look at the doorway again, and just like it was before, I couldn't see past it. I walked back through it into the same room I had just left and saw the Voice In My Head standing there with his hands in his pocket.

"Why isn't the room changing right now? I'm thinking all kinds of things."

"Let's just say I'm doing the driving right now."

"So then how do I get out of here?"

"Like I said, we'll have to figure out why you're in here in the first place."

He took his hands out of his pockets and looked at his nails, wrinkling his nose before trying to dig out whatever was underneath them with a nail from his other hand.

He continued, "so why are you in here? What did you do, what happened to you?"

"Shouldn't you know the answer to that?"

He laughed.

"If I'm the voice inside your head, then what am I?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean just that. If I'm the voice inside your head, then what am I?"

I shrugged my shoulders, I had no idea.

He sighed as he said, "It means I'm your conscious thoughts."

I just stared.

"You really are clueless aren't you?" He put his head into his hand and pinched the bridge of his nose, "something or someone put you into this room. If you don't know what it is then I don't because you're blocking it from your conscious thoughts. Does that make a little more sense?"

I nodded my head.

"If we can go back in your thoughts and remember what happened to you, we can get out."

"How? How will that magically get me out of here? And I thought you said I was blocking it anyways?"

"Yes I did say you were blocking something from your memory. That thing is the barrier preventing you from leaving through that door."

Strangely, he was starting to make more sense. "Now," he began again, "I can only guide you so much in your memories. If you start losing focus, there's only so much I can do to steer you back on track. If you haven't figured out a piece of the puzzle from your memory, you can always start the memory over again. The more of me you see in your memories, the worse you're doing because that means I'm actually entering your memories with you in order to try and control them better. Got it?"

"Sure... Wait, one more thing."

He raised his eyebrows.

"You said you were my conscious thoughts. If that's the case then how do you know all of this? How do you know more than me? Shouldn't you know the exact same as me and know just as much as I do?"

His face grew deadly serious at my question.

"You're talking to the voice in your head, trapped in a room that you can't leave and reflects your thoughts. You know these things, you've seen it. I can't explain it, but I'm obviously not lying about it am I?"

"Well no but—"

"Do you have anymore questions? Or do you want out of here?"

The look in his eyes told me that I shouldn't ask anything else. He did have a point, he wasn't lying, I was very clearly experiencing exactly what he told me.

But the look in his eyes... So cold. Maybe he wasn't telling me the whole truth... But that would mean that I wasn't telling myself the whole truth. What good would that do me, or him?

Either way, I didn't have much of a choice but listen to him. He knew what was going on with the room and helped me with that...

Still didn't feel quite right though.

"Fine, where do we start?"

## Chapter 11

"Well, you should get comfy."

I looked around and felt my way to the wall before sitting down against it.

"You're going to need to remember everything, anything that could help. Don't let your emotions get the best of your memories though."

"What do you mean?"

He didn't answer my question but instead continued, "Like I said, I'll help guide you. But if you lose control there's only so much I can do."

I nodded my head and took a breath.

"Just be yourself!"

"What?"

"Just be yourself!" He called again.

Just be yourself.

Shut up...

...The smell of the roast beef and potatoes made my mouth water. Even though the dinner had gotten awkward with Mr. Green mad dogging me from across the table, there was no way I was not going to enjoy her cooking.

I always loved her cooking.

Her and I exchanged glances the entire meal, catching each other's eye in between bites and gulps.

Quite some time had passed without any conversation, which I was perfectly OK with, until Mr. Green cleared his throat.

"So what do you think of my daughter going away to law school?"

"Actually Dad," she cut in, "we hadn't really discussed that yet."

Law school? Going away?

Pay attention.

"Wait, what do you mean going away for law school?" I asked, confused why she had never mentioned this.

"Babe, please can we talk about it later?"

"No, what do you mean going away? Where to?"

Mr. Green seemed pleased with the confusion he had caused.

Why so happy about all this Mr. Green?

He doesn't like me.

Obviously.

"I don't want to discuss it right now, we can talk about it later."

There's the serious tone I was looking for. I knew I could either drop it or keep pushing. With that tone in her voice though, if I kept pushing it wasn't going to end well.

"Well it's nice to know you think enough of our relationship to not mention going away for school. Anything else you haven't mentioned?"

She dropped her fork and knife onto her plate with a clatter.

She's gonna kill me later for this.

She grabbed her plate off the table and left into the kitchen. I heard her drop the dish into the sink and she stormed off, stomping up the stairs to her room.

The door slammed shut upstairs.

Mr. Green wiped his hands on his napkin and stood from the table. He took his plate and cup into the kitchen and placed them in the sink.

"Well, I suppose I should get going. Looks like you two have some things to talk about. It was nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too Mr. Green," I mumbled.

Prick.

"Call me Charles."

He opened the door and left, leaving me at the dinner table with my plate still over half full. Or half empty. Depends on how you look at it.

She lied to you and he knew.

She didn't lie, she just didn't tell me.

Lie of omission? But he still knew.

So?

So why did he know and not you?

I don't know.

So ask her.

I left the table and climbed up the stairs. She had knocked over the lamp that sat atop of the table by the couch, at the top of the stairs. I got to the top of stairs and picked the lamp up, setting it back on its table. She loved that lamp, she must be pissed.

Her door was shut and I approached it quietly. I could hear her choked sobbing from behind the door.

I fucked up...

A wave of emotion washed over me, I hated seeing her so upset, especially at me. I loved her more than anything, I needed to fix this.

I turned the doorknob and opened the door....

...Blood painted the walls, no corner of the room was spared at least one drop. Streaks of it crawled up from the head board of her bed towards the ceiling...

She was curled up holding her knees to her chest, crying. I sat on the edge of her bed and put my hand on her leg.

"I'm sorry I said that. I didn't mean it."

She batted my hand off her leg and buried her face into the pillows.

"Babe, can we please talk?"

"I'm leaving in a month for Stanford."

A month?

"A month?"

She just sobbed harder.

"You could have mentioned this to me sometime sooner!" I could hear the anger in my voice rising, "were you ever planning on telling me?"

I stood from the bed and began pacing the room.

"Yes!" She screamed back, "I didn't know how. You would have tried to convince me not to go but I need to get out and get away from here. Away from my dad," she spat out in between sobs, "and away from you!"

"Away from me? What the fuck did I do to you?"

I balled my fists up, and hot tears welled up in my eyes.

"You're fucking suffocating me! You want to spend every second with me. Christ, you barely even have a job and even then I can't get away from you because you're always texting me or calling me or showing up. I need out of here!"

So this is how she really feels.

Yeah but for how long?

"How long have you felt like this huh? You could have fucking SAID something about it!"

My nails were digging into my palms.

"Get out of my house!" She yelled, throwing pillows at me.

You need some answers.

"No! What the—" the tears streaked my face, "What the fuck? Why are you doing this, why didn't you just say something? We could have talked about it!"

"It's just you... I felt bad. What do you want me to say? Just get out!"

She's ripping you to pieces.

"I love you... I fucking love you and I thought you loved me and now this? Not even a warning? You couldn't even give me— Couldn't give us a chance to work this out? You just want to leave instead?"

I couldn't control the anger but I didn't want to. How could I not have seen this coming?

"I don't want to work things out! It's you who's the problem! You're a fucking control freak, like you fucking own me or something. There's nothing to work out between us because I don't want things to work out between us."

There wasn't a single trace of sympathy left in her voice. The veil of the act she must have been putting on for the last several months had finally been lifted. This was her. I had just been too stupid and blind to realize it.

"You fucking bitch... You're ripping my fucking heart out."

"I wasn't planning on this... But fine."

She sprung out of her bed, a knife in hand and buried the blade into my chest. I felt it slice through skin and muscle and lodge in between my ribs. Warm blood stained my shirt and I stumbled.

I kept my balance against the wall and staggered to the bed. She moved as I moved, keeping her distance, her face devoid of any discernible emotion. I dragged myself onto the bed, my vision was getting blurry and I rolled onto my back, staring at the ceiling.

You're losing control.

Her face moved into my field of vision but I could barely make it out. Her hair smelled of vanilla.

You've lost it.

She pulled the knife from my chest and held it to her face, looking at it for a moment before setting it gently on the nightstand. My vision blacked out and my breathing slowed. The last thing I felt was her fingers running through my hair.

## Chapter 12

Her hair smelled of vanilla and I felt her fingers running through my hair. I opened my eyes and saw her looking down on me with a smile.

"How long have I been out?"

"About an hour or so. You were out like a log," she replied. The dim light glowed off her naked body, highlighting each curving contour of flawless skin. She was a goddess.

"You need to get up though, my dad will be here for dinner soon."

I rubbed my eyes, stealing a last glance at her body as she got dressed. She saw me looking and turned her back to me with a coy smile while she put her bra back on.

"Come on you, get dressed!"

"Dinner is ready!"

Oh thank God. The sound of her voice made me feel better instantly. I can't stand awkward situations.

I followed Mr. Green to the other side of the house to the dining room, and sat at the seat closest to the wall. I caught her eye again as she came into the room with a big plate of roast beef in one hand and roasted potatoes in the other.

We both smiled at the same time and I mouthed "thank you" to her.

Mr. Green sat down directly across from me. Great. I already knew he wasn't impressed at all with me.

Just be yourself. He's going to try and push your buttons. Don't let him.

Mr. Green cleared his throat.

"So what do you think of my daughter going away to law school?"

Going away for law school?

Don't let him push your buttons.

"Um, actually I didn't know," I looked at her from across the table, "You're going away for law school?"

"We'll talk about it later OK babe?"

Stay calm, just eat your meal. Talk about it later.

"Alright, sure hun."

I saw Mr. Green smirking at me as he took a big swig of his wine. I looked back to my roast beef and mechanically raised the fork from my plate to my mouth for the remainder of the meal, just waiting for the dinner to end.

He seems awfully satisfied about this.

He doesn't like me.

Obviously. But he seems a little too happy about causing a problem. He knew she was going away. Why'd he bring it up?

Maybe he didn't know that I didn't know?

With a smirk like that?

I looked back up. The smirk was still there.

Didn't she warn you that he would do something like this?

Mr. Green wiped his mouth and hands with his napkin. As he picked up his plate he said something about dinner being good, walked into the kitchen, and set his dish in the sink.

I made eye contact with her. Her deep brown eyes were darker, heavier than usual.

"Well I guess I should get on my way home. Thanks for dinner honey, it was delicious."

He kissed her on her forehead and held out his hand for me to shake.

I took it and gripped, "Nice to meet you Mr. Green," I said through clenched teeth.

"Call me Charles."

He smiled, and I could have sworn he winked at me as he opened the door and left.

It stayed quiet for a couple minutes after Charles left. She didn't want to talk and I didn't want to push her. We simply sat on her couch, trying to watch some TV show, but the tension was suffocating.

What did she mean she was going away? For how long?

Ask her.

"So you're going away?"

There was a dull flatness to my voice.

She turned the TV off, and paused for a moment before speaking.

"I applied to Stanford awhile back and I got accepted. And I've been giving it a lot of thought and I want to do it."

She did all of this without telling you?

"You did all of that without saying anything about it to me?"

I felt my pulse quickening.

"I didn't want to say anything until I knew for sure. I didn't even think I'd get accepted!"

There's that tone I loved.

She had to have known that she got in a while ago. Her dad already knew for Christ's sake and they speak how often? Once every so many months?

"Well you obviously knew about it way before tonight, you're fucking dad knew already. And by the way, he's a prick."

You're losing it.

"And another thing," I continued, "I hate it when you try to dance around things and not give me a real answer because you think I won't like it or whatever. Why the hell didn't you say anything about this to me?"

And you slipped...

She was pissed now. She shoved me and threw the remote at me and I could see the venom in her eyes.

"You know what? Fuck you! You think you're easy to deal with? Like you tell me everything that's going on with you at the exact moment it happens? Fuck you, I don't want to hear that shit!"

The blood pounded through my head so hard it made my vision pulse with every heart beat and there was very little thought process in what happened next.

Cut her ear to ear.

Slice her open so she can never hurt me again.

Slice her open.

Yes...

## Chapter 13

After I got home and parked the car, I got out and opened the passenger side door. I unbuckled her body and put one arm around her back, the other under her knees and hoisted her out. It took some effort, but I managed to carry her up the driveway to my house. Her head lolled from side to side, the gash grinning from ear to ear looked like it was trying to gargle out some sort of last plea for help with every step I took.

I got to the door and realized I couldn't open the door whilst carrying her.

So I dropped her.

She landed in a wet heap at my feet, her head twisted at an impossible angle, barely hanging on by the little skin and muscle that was left intact.

I pulled my keys out from my pocket and turned the lock.

Click!

I loved that sound.

I stooped and grabbed her by her ankle and dragged her inside. Her shirt rolled up her stomach, exposing her midsection, as I dragged her down the hallway towards my room. Her neck left trails of blood that shone in the moonlight. I would have to clean later.

I propped her against the bed and pulled her up from under her arm pits onto the mattress. Her head rolled to the left and I thought I could see her windpipe. I ran my finger through her hair and down her cheek, leaving a streak of crimson.

I needed a shower, I was drenched in blood. I went into the bathroom and turned the water on. It would take a minute or two to warm up so I went back and sat on the edge of my bed.

I just looked at her lying there. She was so beautiful, a goddess. The flesh on her leg was still warm, but just barely. Her skin is so soft. I wonder how she gets it that smooth. What razors did she use to shave, what creams and how much, how often?

The water was ready, I could see it steaming up the bathroom. I gave her one last glance and got in the shower. There's nothing quite like a hot shower to erase the bad memories of the day. I felt the tension leaving my muscles and watched the blood spiral down the drain. I scrubbed and scrubbed until I couldn't see red in the water anymore. I wanted to stay in just little bit longer though and let the water run over me.

My skin was turning pink from the heat so I turned the faucet off and dried myself on a towel tossing it in the corner—I would pick it up later—and opened the door to my room. She was still lying on my bed, right where I left her. My naked body chilled instantly after stepping out of the hot shower, it was freezing in my room. I went to my dresser and grabbed a clean shirt out of the middle drawer, boxers and socks from the drawer beneath, and to my closet to get a pair of pants.

I sat back on the edge of the bed next to her again and pulled on my boxers and socks. The boxers had little hearts on them. I think she gave them to me as a present or something, I couldn't remember. I put the pants on, zipped the zipper, buttoned the buttons and tugged the shirt over my head. It was a plain, navy-blue one.

"Don't you go leaving me now. I'll be right back babe."

I bent down and kissed her on the forehead. Her glazed eyes stared blankly off into infinity. I loved them, so deep and warm. I walked out of my room and closed the door behind me.

I left my house, locked the door—

Click!

—and went back to my car. I would have to wash the blood off the porch and the driveway. Not like the neighbors would notice, I don't interact with them much anyways. I got in the car and started it up.

I only had one stop to make.

I got back to my house in about twenty minutes. I popped my trunk and grabbed the chains I had just bought. Big thick chain. A bull couldn't break through the stuff, the guy at the hardware store told me so himself. It was heavy and made a lot of noise as I half carried it, half dragged it to my door. I should have remembered to leave the door unlocked. I fumbled around, trying to keep a grip on the chains and still get the key into the lock. It took a few tries and made a lot of noise, but I did it. I did a quick scan up and down my street, I had made an awful lot of noise but I didn't see anyone watching.

I got inside, closed the door with my foot and finally got to use both my arms to carry the chains, my one arm was getting tired. A smile crept up on me as I opened my bedroom door, I couldn't wait to see the look on her face when she saw what I bought her.

I went through the door and was about to call out her name when I noticed she wasn't on the bed anymore. The chains almost dropped out of my hands when I caught movement from the corner of my eye.

She was staggering against the wall across from me, leaning her head and shoulder against it as she stumbled back and forth. She kept her head down with her hair covering her face, her limp arms flopped around with each unsteady step. Every once in a while she would convulse a little and jerk her arm up, scritching and scratching at the wall.

Still a goddess.

I set the chains down and walked slowly towards her as she headed the opposite direction.

I held out my arm and set my hand on her shoulder and she stopped. She turned around, slowly lifting her head up, eyes out of focus, still staring into infinity. Her head fell backwards, opening the wound in her throat completely. Fresh blood bubbled out of her slit neck as she tried to speak. She raised her hand up and I followed the direction of her pointed finger. It was towards the door.

"See, now that's exactly the reason I had to go and get these."

I picked up the chain off the ground and began binding her with it, draping it over her shoulder and circling her with one end in my hand. Her head lolled back and forth as I jerked the chain tighter and tighter, looping and weaving it about into a knot that a rat's nest would be proud of. I stood back and admired my work. She wasn't going anywhere.

## Chapter 14

She looked so beautiful lying on my bed, barely able to move under the weight of the chains. She gave up struggling quite some time ago, but every now and then she let out a wet gurgle. For the most part though, she just lay there. Beautiful.

A goddess.

I didn't even care that she was getting blood all over the sheets. I would wash them later.

I noticed that my hands were smeared with blood again so I gave her a kiss on the forehead and got up to wash my hands.

The water felt good against the cold of the house. Blood ran down my fingers, turning an almost orange in the water. I really would have to fix my thermostat, there's just no way that it's 75 degrees in here. I splashed some water on my face and looked at myself in the mirror. I leaned in to get a look at my eyes but they seemed... Different.

My reflection backed away from me and wagged its finger at me.

"What did I tell you?" he asked.

He reached through the mirror and grabbed me by my shirt, yanking me forward through the mirror. I anticipated pain, but the mirror rippled like liquid and felt cold and wet against my skin. I landed on my hands and knees, blinded by an intense white light.

I shook my head and blinked, trying to get my eyes back in focus. The Voice paced around with his head in his hand before finally stooping down to me.

"What did I tell you? I said not to let your emotions get the best of you."

It took me a second to register what he had said. I was back in the white room. The walls were shifting and seemed even more unstable than they were before.

"Don't let your emotions get the best of you. You need to get your shit together and figure out why we're in here and you better do it quick too."

"Why do I need to do it quick?" I asked.

"Well, with the shit you've been seeing and doing in your memories, I don't really think you want to spend a whole lot of time in there."

"What the hell was that? What was I doing?"

"Honestly, I have no idea what you were doing. You got distracted and let yourself wander. Why you were doing that... Fucked if I know."

I sat myself up against the wall. It seemed to give a little as I leaned back against it. I noticed for the first time that a coffee table and couch were now in the room. They looked identical to the table and couch in my living room. The Voice In My Head sat down on the couch, propped his feet up on the table and crossed his arms.

"We can guess one thing based off your memory. Charles doesn't like you. Not one bit. He clearly doesn't like the fact you're with his daughter and it sure seemed like he mentioned her moving away just to piss you off. And it worked too."

"So what does that mean?"

"It means you need to dig some more for memories of this guy. There had to have been other times when he was around you two, or maybe even just you. Or maybe times when she told you about him or something."

"So you think Charles has something to do with this?" I said, gesturing at the room.

"I think it's a good possibility. Just remember. Pay attention to the details."

"So where should I go next?"

"That's up to you. I'm not your memories, I'm just your thoughts."

I could think of one place I'd like to visit again.

"So anything I think of, or remember... This room will take me there?"

## Chapter 15

The food... My god the food... I'd never tasted anything like it. It'd probably cost me half my paycheck, it was one of those fancy restaurants that don't even put the prices next to the meals, but it was exquisite. I'd never tasted anything like it.

She took a sip of her wine and peered at me over the rim of the glass. Those deep, coy, brown eyes. God they were stunning. She set the glass back on the table and folded her hands up against her cheeks. The candlelight danced shadows off her face, highlighting her perfect cheekbones and playfully hiding her dark eyes.

"So what do you do exactly?" she asked with a mischievous smile, her words carried gently to my ears over the soothing... Whatever kind of music that was playing, I wasn't sure. I wasn't exactly in my element here but I wanted to impress her—which I couldn't do when asked that question—so I opted for humor instead.

"I do security actually, it's a dangerous job," I said with a grin.

"Oh really now? And what do you secure?"

"Only the largest chain of copy machine stores in this nation. The one and only, Copymate."

Mock enthusiasm. She thought it was hilarious.

"Hey come on, why are you laughing? Do you have any idea how many robberies occur in copy machine stores?"

"Are you serious?"

"I'll tell you how many. None. Because I'm the one doing security," I smiled as I said it and she burst out laughing. What a smile, blindingly white but not perfect, just the right amount of character in her teeth. It made me feel warm and I just wanted to make her smile more and more.

I took another sip of wine right as someone behind me bumped into my chair, splashing red wine down the front of my shirt. My white shirt.

"I'm so sorry! Oh my god that got all over, let me get you a napkin!"

Like a napkin would do anything except smear it everywhere and make the stain worse. I had one nice outfit in my wardrobe. Had.

"Don't worry about it, I was going to take it to the dry cleaners anyway."

"Are you sure? I'm really sorry. Here, take this."

He rustled about in his pocket and pulled out a twenty-dollar bill. Before I could protest, he set it on the table in front of me.

"For the dry cleaning," he said, turning around and leaving before I could say a word. At least it would help me pay for dinner.

"Wow, that was nice of him."

"Yeah I know," I said as I put the twenty dollars in my pocket. I could feel my face burning with embarrassment. I put my coat jacket back on and drew it tight in a pathetic attempt to cover the wine stain.

We finished our meal and the waiter brought out the bill—Jesus, even the booklet that the bill went into looked like it cost a hundred bucks. I kept a poker face as I opened it and even I was impressed that I didn't gasp out loud. I took my card out of my wallet and left the check on the edge of the table for the waiter to pick up.

"How much was it?"

"Don't worry about it, it's on me," I smiled.

The waiter returned and I left a tip. She stumbled a little when she stood from the table and laughed as she caught herself.

"Too much wine?"

She chuckled a bit and linked her arm around mine and we made our way outside.

It was a little chilly, which I used as an excuse to draw her closer to me. We walked and I tried to steal looks at her every chance I could get and every time I looked, she looked back. We both smiled and looked away, hoping the other didn't notice even though we knew the other did.

"So where to next?" I asked.

"I don't know. I would say let's go back to your place, but it's only our first date and I am a lady," she said with mock pretentiousness as she flashed her mischievous smile again.

"Well, what makes you think my place is unacceptable? I'm a gentleman after all."

"Well if that's the case," she said through her grin, "then your place it is."

She raised her eyebrows as she said it and I my pulse jumped a couple-dozen beats faster. How did I land a girl like this in the first place? Not to mention getting her back to my house on the first date.

We walked down the sidewalk to a crosswalk and I pushed the button, absently watching the cars pass by. They had no idea about us or how lucky I was to have a girl like her around my arm.

The "Walk" sign lit up and we stepped into the street just as a car zoomed past us. I yanked her back just in time.

"Jesus! Fuckin' watch where you're going asshole!" I yelled to the car as it sped on down the road, "are you alright?"

"Yeah I'm fine, thanks for that."

"Yeah of course, guy ran the fucking light."

I hated when people didn't pay attention when they were driving.

We continued across the intersection to the next crosswalk and waited. A breeze blew by and she quickly burrowed deeper into my arms and nuzzled up against my chest.

It made my heart melt.

The "Walk" sign lit up and this time I looked both ways before crossing. All clear. We crossed the street to the parking lot where my car was parked and we got in. She shivered a bit as she sat down and rubbed her hands together.

"Can you turn the heater on please?"

"Of course."

I started the car and turned the heater up to 75 degrees. The knob was broken, it could get to 80 but it wouldn't turn past 75. And of course it blew cold air because my car had been sitting in the cold for so long.

Great.

"Sorry about that," I said, fumbling with the thermostat, trying desperately to get the knob to turn past 75 to no avail. She shivered some more and squeak-giggled, trying to block the vents.

We both laughed and I backed out of my spot, stopping at the driveway and easing my way up a little so I could see the traffic. I turned left into the median and saw her still shivering .

"It's so cooooold!"

I looked and reached down to turn the heater off, at least until the car had warmed up, as I accelerated out of the median.

Creeeooooooooocccccshhheerrrrrr!!!!!!!!!

My head slammed into the window as a car T-boned her side of the car. Shards of glass flew through the cabin, each one a dagger eager to cut and slice. Her hair whipped in slow motion, like a beauty commercial, if beauty commercials involved broken bones, contusions, and blood.

She tried to speak but nothing came out except gurgles and more blood and I blacked out.

## Chapter 16

I parked my car in front of her house. I made sure to get there a little earlier so we wouldn't be late and lose our reservations, it was one of those fancy restaurants; they probably didn't even have the prices on their menus. It was going to be an expensive night but that was OK. I had somehow gotten lucky enough to get a date with this girl and she liked the restaurant, so that's where we would go.

24976 Sunny Way. Weird name for the street. Willow trees grew on either side and formed a canopy that blocked out just about all sunlight. I wasn't sure what it was, but the street made me feel uncomfortable.

I got to the door and was about to knock when I heard her call out.

"Come in! It's unlocked."

Her voice sounded a little different, like she was sick or something, like her lips couldn't form the words quite right. I turned the knob and walked inside.

"Hey you! Almost ready?"

"Mmhmm why don't you come up here?"

"Uhh alright."

I was a little confused but I wasn't going to refuse. I started climbing the stairs to her room and rubbed my hands together.

"It's freezing in here!"

"I know... Isn't it nice?"

Her voice trailed off every time she spoke and something seemed wrong.

I noticed goosebumps forming on my arms so I rubbed them as I continued up the steps. I could hear her stereo from her room. The door was cracked a little and I could make out her figure floating across the floor in the dim light.

"Come in you..."

I didn't know what had gotten into her but I loved the seductive tone in her voice. I pushed open the door and was taken aback. The only light came from candles, the flames flickered as some rock band played from the stereo.

I didn't know who it was, the singer had an eerily haunting voice as he droned on while guitars screamed, blaring from her speakers.

She swayed her hips and her black evening gown flowed as she danced across the room, paying no attention to me.

Her arms were liquid with the melody, flowing with the pulse of the drums. She kept her head down, her black wavy hair covered her face and she hummed along with the music.

"Doesn't it just make you want to dance," she crooned, "come and dance with me..."

I was transfixed by her body, her hips were hypnotizing and I almost completely forgot about our reservations.

"Um..." I stammered, "What about dinner?"

"I've been dancing all day... I'm so tired... I don't think I want to go out..."

She wafted past me again and I looked down at her feet. Blood seeped out from her shoes, gushing out every time she took a step.

"Oh my god, what did you do to your feet?"

"Mmmm I've just been dancing all day... I'm so hungry... But I just can't stop dancing..."

She twirled about like a silk ribbon, moving from one side of the room to the other with no clear intent.

She spun around behind me and shut the door as she went by, giggling as she did so.

"Dance with me silly..."

"What are you doing? Stop it! Your feet are bleeding for Christ's sake!"

"Mmm I'm so hungry... Feed me... I just want to dance..."

She spun in slow circles around me, grazing me lightly with her fingertips as she went round and round.

"Stop it!" I yelled, grabbing her by her shoulders.

She giggled and brushed my hands off her turning away from me and prancing, skipping into the air, still spiraling around the room.

"Just come and dance with me..."

"No! I'm leaving if you don't stop whatever the hell it is you're doing."

She stopped and stood directly in front of me.

"I'm so hungry..." She whimpered, swaying her body side to side as she stood in place.

"Come on," I held my hand out to her, "come on and we'll get you something to eat. I'll fix you up something here, we don't have to go out."

"I'm so hungry... Have you been fed today?"

"Have I what?" Not sure if I heard that right.

"Have you been fed today? Have you been fed today... Have you. Been fed... Today..."

The candles painted shadows across her covered face as she continued to sway. Her head rocked with her body side to side.

"You're scaring me. Seriously, cut it out. Come on, let's get something to eat downstairs and get your feet patched up."

She mumbled something that sounded like "in a minute," but I wasn't sure. I started backing up to the door and as I did, she finally lifted her head up.

Her hair parted back from her miserably sunken in face, dark rings engulfed her closed eyes. Her skin seemed like it was stretched too tight, like someone had grabbed a handful of skin from behind her skull and pulled.

And the worst part... I thought she was sucking on her lips when she mumbled at me. The blood dribbling from her chin said otherwise.

She had completely chewed her lips off. The bloody pulp that surrounded her mouth smiled at me in a horrible, meaty grimace.

"Come dance with me..."

She cackled and leapt away in a twirl, holding her dress by the hem. A bloody piece of meat plopped from her mouth onto the floor.

"Laaa la. La le la, laaa... Laaa la. La le la laaa..." She sang, spiraling and turning.

She stopped spinning and looked at me, swaying her hips.

"Won't you come dance with me? I'm so hungry... Have you been fed today?"

She advanced on me, still swaying like a charmed serpent. Her eyes held the look of a naive little girl, blended with demented insanity. She pulled her mouth back and upwards with her fingers into a sick toothy grin.

"What the fuck..."

I felt around behind me, keeping my eyes on her and desperately searching for the door. I brushed against the knob and fumbled with it to get a grip, but it kept slipping in my sweaty palms. She was getting closer to me, staggering forward on her bloody feet, her grotesque sneer intensifying with every step.

I managed to get a grip on the door knob and turned it, bolted out of the room and slammed the door shut.

I was about to run down the stairs and get the hell out of her house until I saw I was in a hallway.

My hallway.

## Chapter 17

She thudded against the door with a wet thwap. I bolted down the hall to my living room and double checked my pocket for my keys. They were there. I threw the front door open and slipped on something wet, landing on my back in a puddle of... Something. In the pale moonlight I could see a glimmer of scarlet on my hands. Blood. A trail of it led from my car to the doorstep.

Frantically, I pulled myself back on my feet and sprinted to my car. I got the door unlocked, scurried inside and got the key in the ignition after a couple tries.

As I started the car, she appeared in the doorway. I threw the gears into reverse and slammed on the gas pedal, screeching out of the driveway while she stood at the doorway with an arm outstretched.

I put the car in "drive," and an arm appeared from the darkness behind her, and a hand grasped her mouth. A face emerged from over her shoulder. My face.

She was dragged back into the house while the other me smirked and shut the door behind him.

I sat there in the middle of the street, my hand still on the shifter and unsure whether I should take off or go back inside.

"Are we having fun yet?" A voice to my right said.

I jumped and saw myself sitting in the passenger seat.

"You really should wear a seat belt ya' know. Safety first. Go ahead and drive. Buckle up though."

"What the fuck is going on?" I screamed back at him, "tell me what the fuck is going on!"

He picked at his finger nails before replying casually, "buckle your seat belt, and drive."

I glared at him and he turned his head ever so slightly, cocking an eyebrow and motioning at the seat belt. Reluctantly, I reached over, buckled my belt and took my foot off the brake.

"You really have no idea do you? Do you know how much time you've wasted having your little sentimental moments? You're really good at not listening to me and I really don't like it."

He was clearly frustrated.

"Yes as a matter of fact I am frustrated, smart ass," he continued, "You think I like being here? I don't know why you like being here but you're sure spending a lot of time dicking around. I tell you to do one thing, find out about Charles Green and what do you do? You come back to this memory. Why? What are you accomplishing here?"

"Why is she like that?"

"Because you made her like that! I told you not to let your emotions get the best of you, in fact I think this is the third time I've said it. Are you even paying attention to where you're driving? Take a look around."

I looked out my window and saw my house pass by me again and again and again on both sides of the street.

"What the hell is going on? What do you mean I made her like that?"

"Jesus Christ you don't pay attention do you? What did you feel when you found out that she was moving away and she didn't tell you?"

"I don't—"

"Bullshit, you know exactly how you felt. Pissed off, hurt and betrayed. Now what happened in your memory?"

"I don't know."

He put his head in his hand and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Out of all the voices in someone's head I could have been and I get to be yours. Outstanding. The first time you thought about it she attacked you. You felt betrayed, speaking poetically, you felt like she ripped your heart out. Look what happened. The second time—why there was a second time is beyond me, hell, why there was a first time after I told you to remember Charles is beyond me—but the second time, you felt angry. You felt like you could have just killed her on the spot, and look what happened."

"That isn't true! I wouldn't kill her, I wouldn't kill anyone!"

"Oh who gives a shit what you would or wouldn't do? That doesn't change how you felt or what you thought about when it happened. And apparently you didn't get it when I had you look out the window. Why are we still driving when we aren't going anywhere?"

I looked back out the window, my house was still flashing past me on both sides. Embarrassed, I slowed down and stopped in front of the driveway.

"Ah, finally starting to catch on eh? Come on, get out."

"Why'd you tell me to buckle up then?"

"Safety first."

He stepped out of the car and I could do nothing else but follow him. I needed answers and he obviously had some. I unbuckled my seat belt and turned my car off before stepping out into the chilly cold—

—before stepping out into the room again. The walls had taken on a sicker shade of gray. Drab, dinghy and with a hint of puke green. The furniture in the room had changed a bit too; my television now sat on its stand in front of my coffee table. The Voice In My Head sat down on the couch and crossed a foot over his leg.

"So where were we?"

"We were talking about—"

"It was rhetorical. As I was saying, this place reflects your thoughts and feelings. You can change any memory when you think about it. The things you wanted to say instead of what you said, the things you wanted to do instead of the things you did, how things could have happened...Whatever. Have you honestly not realized this is all in your head? This place we're in, this room? You can't be that slow can you?"

I was about to defend myself and let him know I had known that, or at least suspected it awhile back but he shushed me before I was able to.

"Look, it doesn't matter. You need to get your shit together and figure out what happened to get you in here. Put together the hypothetical situations, use some common fucking sense, do whatever you need to do to figure out what you're doing in here. Understand?"

"I think," nodding my head in agreement, "but why does one of us die anytime I think of her?"

"There's bigger things to focus on right—"

"No!" I shouted, "tell me why!"

"Fine, like I already said, you felt angry when you found out she was moving away. It hurt didn't it? She was the only thing you cared about in this world and she betrays you and hurts you like that. Painful right? The things that happen, you murdering her, her murdering you... That is pure emotion. An unfiltered reflection of the rage, pain and betrayal you felt. Make sense?"

It did.

"Great. Now, do you have any more questions or can you finally start focusing on how to get out of here?"

I looked around the room, my own living room, my own head. The walls pulsed and throbbed in rhythm with my heartbeat. Everything in here was my own creation. I had full control of anything that happened inside of this place.

"Why is my furniture in here?"

He held his hand up and the television remote control appeared in his palm. He clicked the TV on and bits of different shows played as he browsed through the channels.

"Figured I'd make things a little more comfortable since you're taking so long," he said, not even looking away from the television, "so what are you still doing here?"

I leaned up against the walls and closed my eyes. I had to find Charles Green.

## Chapter 18

I sat in my car of the Wonder Mart parking lot—Wonder Mart, what a stupid name—the car was off and the windows were cracked. It was getting pretty hot and stuffy inside.

What day was it?

I watched the main entrance intently; he always came here at least once a week for something or another. The guy spent more time shopping for groceries than any other guy I know. I guess that isn't saying too much considering I don't know a whole lot of people.

A mother, with a toddler in the front seat of a full shopping cart, came out the doors. She was visibly at the end of her wits. The toddler squirmed around in his seat, his face red from the screaming he must be doing. I couldn't hear him but I could see his face, mouth open eyes closed, face red, little fists clenched tight. The temper-tantrum pose.

There he is. He came out from behind the woman and toddler, carrying a small hand basket. It looked like he had a quart of milk and a loaf of bread stuck up from the top of one of the bags.

Those goddamn glasses... I hated the way they magnified his eyes. Those eyes... They ripped through me anytime he looked at me.

I slumped lower in my seat, hoping he wouldn't notice me. I could just barely see him over my steering wheel.

He was heading down the aisle to my right and stopped at a faded-red, sub-compact car. The paint was so faded it was almost a pinkish color. He popped the hatch and set his groceries in the trunk, closed it and walked back to the entrance of the store to return the basket.

How considerate.

Prick.

He dropped off the basket and returned to his vehicle, clearly out of breath. He hopped in the car and a couple seconds later, backed slowly from the spot and drove towards the exit of the shopping center.

Wait...

What was in his trunk?

He had popped the hatch, and something glimmered. Something shiny...

Like...

Chains.

He had set his groceries in the trunk and went to close it when one of the bags spilled over, right? And there was a claw hammer, nails and duct tape. Wasn't there?

Is he doing home improvement or something?

My heart quickened. The last meeting with him didn't go so well, what was he doing with chains, a hammer—

With a claw.

—nails and duct tape?

How was I sure that was really what I saw?

You saw it, described it pretty well.

But I was far away from him, I might be mistaken.

Sure, but you know you're not.

He might be doing some fixing up around his house.

Ha! In his condition? He'd have to pay someone to do it.

He can't have that much money driving a piece of shit like that, they could be for his home. Didn't he mention something about a leak in his house or something awhile back?

Last time I checked, you don't fix a leak with a hammer and nails.

Well then what is he doing with those?

Remember your last meeting with him?

The diner was busy. It was loud from all the people talking and the waiters and waitresses hurried from table to table, taking orders, refilling drinks, and busting tables so the next group could be seated.

We were sat at the back of the diner near a big window. The sun shone through and hurt my eyes a little. He sat on the other side of me and was granted some shade from the glare of the sun, but I didn't complain. I was at his mercy since he even agreed to meet me in the first place.

I opened my menu, not really caring what I was going to eat, I didn't have much of an appetite.

Without looking from his menu and without any genuine care in his voice he said, "The chicken-fried steak is good here."

Like he actually cared.

The waitress came to our table. She was pretty. Slim, fiery red hair, kind face and her uniform complimented her figure nicely.

"And what'll we be havin' today?"

The fake enthusiasm was far too transparent.

"I'll have the New York steak, medium rare with a baked potato with an ice tea to drink" said Charles.

Bastard had to go and get the most expensive thing on the menu. I was the one who was going to be paying.

"OK," as she wrote down his order, "and for you?"

"The chicken-fried steak please. French fries on the side and I'll stick with water to drink."

Coming right up...

"Coming right up!" She said in her far-too-cheerful voice.

"So what did you want to talk about?" Charles asked me.

I fidgeted with the napkin on my table. It wouldn't be easy swallowing my pride to talk to this guy. I've never liked laying all my cards out on the table, so to speak, and this was definitely all of my cards.

"Well," I started, "your daughter is back in town," I couldn't look him in the eye as I spoke, "and we didn't exactly end on the best of terms."

He was expressionless as I spoke. I already knew how he would respond.

I continued, "And I just want to talk to her. I was kinda hoping we could pick up where we left off. I feel horrible for what was said and done before she left. I was just hurt, scared, and I didn't want to even try being without her. And she didn't let me know she was planning on leaving or anything and... I don't know, I just didn't understand why. And I just want to talk to her. Get some closure."

"Well here ya' go, enjoy your meals guys!"

The waitress set our plates in front of us and cheerfully bounced away. Charles began cutting into his steak and looked over the rim of his glasses at me. I just stared at my own food. I didn't have much of an appetite to begin with and the uncomfortable silence was starting to get to me. I went to speak but he cut me short.

"So why are you telling me this?"

Good question.

"She listens to you. She respects your word. I know you guys haven't always gotten along the best." That was an understatement. I could recall several occasions when she would tell me stories that would make my blood boil and the only thing I wanted to do was strangle him. "But, she does listen to you. And I was hoping that maybe if you could mention me to her, just that I want to talk, that maybe she would give me a chance. I know that if I tried talking to her on my own she wouldn't listen."

Charles chewed on his food agonizingly slow. Intentionally. At least it seemed like it was. He looked from his food and up to me again. He was studying me.

Those damn eyes. I hated them. The way they seemed to look through me instead of at me.

"Are you gonna eat? You don't want to waste your food."

I hadn't touched my plate yet and he was over halfway done.

Nice way to avoid the subject.

I cut a piece of my chicken-fried heart attack and put it in my mouth. Deep fried grease. Delicious. He probably knew it was horrible and still suggested it.

You know how much he hates you.

"So... What do you say?"

He finished chewing, wiped his hands and mouth on his napkin delicately. He paused for a second, still studying me, before folding his hands on the table and intimidatingly leaning in closer.

"You don't seem like a stupid guy. You have a stupid job—"

Not anymore...

"—but I don't think you're stupid. Maybe a little unmotivated though. And to be honest with you, I hate that even more than I hate stupidity. She's brought home some stupid-ass boyfriends before, but she's never brought home someone wasting as many brain cells as you on some bullshit job when you could be doing so much better. Now, that being said, I don't particularly like you as a person. But I've also never seen anyone treat my daughter as well as you. Which is the most any man could hope for his daughter."

Not quite the answer I was hoping for. I bit my tongue, the personal attacks were making my cheeks red but lashing back wouldn't help.

"So I'm in a very strange position as a father. On one hand, I have a guy who appears to not be going anywhere in life who I wouldn't want sapping my daughter dry. But on the other, I have someone who I can tell obviously cares about her. You wouldn't be sitting here if you didn't. So if you were me, what would you do?"

Great.

Tell him what you'd do.

"To be perfectly honest," I fidgeted around in my seat uncomfortably, "I couldn't say what I'd do. I don't have a child and I won't ever know your stance until I do. I can't say. All I'm asking is for you to get her to talk to me. That's it. We didn't end on good terms and she probably doesn't even want to see me. I just know I'd regret not taking this chance when I have it. I hope you can understand that."

Oh that was good.

Charles sat back in his chair, both confused and impressed. He folded his arms and furrowed his brow, drilling his piercing eyes right through me.

"Like I said earlier, you aren't dumb," he paused, "which is why I don't know if I can believe you."

You've got to be kidding me. I would have had better luck asking the chicken-fried steak, that was far too cold by now, for help.

I was frustrated and clenching my fists underneath the table.

"Alright look, I get it. I'm outta here. Thanks."

What a disaster.

## Chapter 19

So what? That doesn't prove anything. It was a bad meeting, what's your point?

My point is that he's almost out of the parking lot, are you going to follow him or not?

He was right. The little red car was about to turn out onto the street.

You want to know where he's going with all that hardware, don't you?

I did.

I turned the car on and squealed my tires as I sped out of the parking space. I raced in and out of the aisles trying to keep my eyes on the little red car. He was already on the street and I couldn't lose him. I weaved through the parking lot trying to avoid the various shoppers getting in and out of their cars, unloading shopping carts and children. I got to the driveway and turned right onto the street. He was a couple cars ahead of me but I could still see him.

So why did you have me remember that? Nothing happened.

You don't pay attention to people very much do you?

What do you mean?

He's never liked you as a person let alone with his daughter. Did you even notice the look in his eye? Or were you too busy fidgeting?

No, I didn't notice...

I didn't think so. Heads up, he's turning here.

Oh shit, I wasn't even paying attention. I glanced behind me in my mirror and merged over two lanes to get into the left lane. There was one car separating Charles and I.

The left-turn arrow changed yellow and I wasn't even at the line yet.

Don't lose him...

I slammed on the gas and made it into the intersection right as the light turned red. I almost smashed into a car turning right onto the same street and had to hit the brakes and swerve to avoid hitting him. The driver honked and flipped me off but Charles was still in my sight.

"Not bad," a voice to my right said.

The Voice In My Head had a boyish grin on his face as he leaned over the seat to look out the back window.

"You almost caused some damage back there, you should be more careful."

"Hey, you told me not to lose him so I didn't," I retorted, "where is he heading anyways?"

"You never were much for navigating. If he turns left on this street—"

He trailed off as Charles turned left just up ahead.

"—then he's heading towards Sunny Way."

## Chapter 20

I blinked.

I sank into the worn spot in my sofa and felt instantly relaxed until I remembered what I was doing a second ago.

I jumped from my seat, panicked. I needed to get to her house before Charles did.

The Voice In My Head put his hands on my shoulders and guided me back to my seat. I struggled against him but he was somehow stronger than me so I gave up fighting and let him sit me down.

"Easy there pal," he said gently.

I took a look around, it seemed like I was back in the room but it looked just like my living room now. The walls still pulsed unsteadily and changed, the ever-changing sickly gray was now a little closer to the actual color of my walls, my end table was next to the couch and even my coatrack was in the corner near where the front door should be. Across from that was what looked like the formation of the hallway that lead to my room, but it stopped abruptly just past the entryway. The wall on my right seemed to bulge outwards as if something were pushing on it and stretching it which is right where my kitchen would be in my house.

The Voice In My Head pulled a chair out from nowhere and sat down on it to my left. He leaned forward, and folded his arms, he seemed amused as he watched my confusion.

"We need to get back there before he gets to her house!"

He chuckled a bit.

"Shut up!" I screamed as I jumped from my seat and kicked the coffee table over, "you don't tell me any fucking thing that's going on and give me cryptic bullshit answers and I'm fucking sick of it! Now get me back in there so I can save her!"

"Well look at you, all fired up! That's what I like to see, get angry why don't you? Instead of using your head.."

"Fuck this, I'm getting out of here."

I stormed over to where my front door would be, it was the only wall that wasn't bulging or in the process of shifting into another section of my house.

"You said anything I think will happen in here, so how bout my fucking front door?"

I put my hands on the wall, it felt like putty. As soon as I touched the wall an outline of a door formed and a second later the door knob appeared as well. The Voice In My Head remained seated, studying me curiously. I flipped him off and opened the door and stepped—

—into the same. Damn. Room.

"Are you done yet? You tried this once before and it didn't work so why would it work the second time?"

"Fuck!" I screamed, angrily. Frustrated and desperately, I beat my fist upon the putty-like wall, every time my fist connected a pulse of colors and pictures radiated outward, sending ripples across the entire room.

"Get me the fuck out of here! Let me out!"

I balled my fists up and glared at the Voice In My Head. His cool, calm and collected demeanor had grated on my nerves long enough and I was sick of it.

"So go ahead and do something about it," he tapped his head with his index finger, "thoughts remember, I can hear them."

"I want you gone, I don't wanna look at you anymore. So," I wasn't really sure how it was supposed to work, "get back in my head and leave me alone. There, I thought it."

He just sat there with his arms crossed. He looked sarcastically from side to side and shrugged his shoulders.

"So what did you think was going to happen?" He asked me with that same smart-ass tone in his voice.

"Get. Me. Out. Of. Here." I spat through gritted teeth.

"What do you think I've been trying to do? You think this is fun for me? It's not my fault I'm stuck in here with the dumbest motherfucker I've ever known. Sit and listen and I'll explain this real slow for you."

He gestured for me to sit on the couch but I remained where I was.

The hallway had almost finished forming, I could see the door to my bedroom and it looked like the office was next. The wall behind The Voice In My Head bulged and stretched until it finally snapped, and behind it was my kitchen. Pieces of the putty walls stuck to parts of the furniture and dripped off the ceiling, plopping onto the floor. The pieces of putty moved and slithered, combining together and speeding to the walls where they were absorbed.

I watched in amazement, it had changed into my living room in its entirety now. The wall colors, the carpet, the windows, the window curtains, everything. The hallway had finished morphing and I could see the open doors to my office down the hall.

"What the hell is going on?" I asked as I began walking the perimeter of the room, running my hand along the wall. It was no longer putty, it was drywall and solid.

"Sit."

I went to my couch and sat, completely dumbfounded.

"Now pay attention for the last time," he continued, "he already got to her house. You can't stop that. Haven't I already explained that you were in a memory? You can change and damage your memory of what happened, which you've done a damn good job of, but you can't change what actually happened."

"So what did he do to her?"

"You know what he did." His voice was completely flat as he said it, "And you know what he's going to do to you."

"But why?"

My head was racing with questions.

"Because of you."

"Stop being vague goddammit!"

"What was the first thing I asked you to do when we got here? I asked you to remember what you were doing before all of this didn't I? And what did you decide to do instead? You went to play around in a memory of a dream of a whatever the fuck you've been doing. What were you doing before all of this?"

"I don't know," I let my head fall into my hands, "I don't know."

The Voice In My Head threw his hands up in the air in exasperation.

"You were meeting up with her! You were meeting up with her! How dense are you?"

The closer I got to the door, the stronger the smell got. The smell of sweat. And sex. And something else... I couldn't quite place it.

"I mean come on, it's a well known fact that someone who suffers a traumatic experience will often times put themselves into a fantasy world in their mind where the event never happened..."

Blood painted the walls, no corner of the room was spared at least one drop. Streaks of it crawled up from the head board of her bed. The sheets were saturated to the point where the blood appeared black.

"...and the only time someone in that state can come out of it..."

What the hell was he doing here?!

"...is if they can unlock the buried memory..."

...a baseball bat over his shoulders in one hand, his other hand held several feet of chain.

"...of the traumatic event..."

"Call me Charles."

"You wouldn't be sitting here if you didn't. So if you were me, what would you do?"

When he shifted I could see a wide slit on her neck, opening and closing every time he thrust in and out of her.

"...and confront the source..."

"Laaa la. La le la, laaa... Laaa la. La le la laaa..." She sang, spiraling and turning.

The last thing I felt was her fingers running through my hair.

"...in order to bring closure..."

They had never gotten along well.

Charles clearly wasn't impressed with me.

"...and to finally break the cycle that the mind has created..."

Remember your last meeting with him?

"Ah, I see a light bulb has clicked. I think you've got it now. You asked me why I had you remember your last meeting with him, but I don't think you remembered right."

I felt sick. I squeezed my head trying to make the thoughts stop but they were rushing and flooding my skull like a tsunami.

"Let me help you remember a little better."

As he said it, the thought of when I first thought the Voice In My Head into existence popped into mind.

At first glance he appeared to have the same tired look in his blue eyes that I did, only they were much sharper. A kindness that glossed over intent and a slight malevolence I couldn't quite place.

## Chapter 21

"Please babe, I don't want to talk about it. Just leave it be."

I squeezed her hand from across the table. Her dining room seemed a little chillier than normal. We had been sitting here like this for at least fifteen minutes and our plates of food had long since gone cold.

"I just don't understand why you wont tell me. You and your dad have never gotten along, ever. And now he's moving in with you?"

She let go of my hand and put hers in her lap.

"Hun," her voice had an edge to it, "he just is. And besides, there will be someone here to house sit if we ever go away for a while."

She smiled but I could tell it was fake. She had never really told me a whole lot about her father. It didn't make sense why she was all of a sudden letting him move in.

"You know, I've never even met your father. And you don't ever really talk about him."

"Well, I was thinking about having him over for dinner next week or something."

Not what I was going for by making that comment.

"Yeah sure. You sure he's going to like me?"

"He'll love you babe, just be yourself!"

Just be yourself. What did that even mean?

I faked a laugh for her and returned her gaze. Her eyes, to someone who didn't know her, would appear to be bright and happy. But they weren't. She wasn't telling me something.

"Why don't you ever talk about him?"

"Why do you have to keep pushing when I say I don't want to talk about something?"

Her voice was bitter now.

"Because I want to know! Geez, what's so wrong about wanting to know what your dad is like? Shit, I've only been dating you for a couple of years now and you've only mentioned him a handful of times. I just want to know."

There it was, her eyes revealed themselves now. There was pain in them and I knew she was fighting back tears. She was good at that.

"My mother died when I was nine years old," she began, "and he was devastated. He never used to have an anger problem, but he started drinking a lot after she died. And sometimes," she choked up, paused and sniffled a little before continuing, "sometimes he would get mad at me. The more the years went on, the more he would drink and the angrier he would get, and the more he would hit me."

The tears were streaming by now. I could do nothing but listen in shock as she told her story. I had never talked to anyone with a past like that. At least not that I knew of. I had no idea what that was like.

She continued, "The hitting wasn't the worst. There were other things too..." She trailed off and looked away from me. The pain radiated off of her and seemed to flood the entire room, making the air thick and difficult to breathe.

"What other things?" I asked.

"Don't, please don't. I don't even want to remember. I do everything I can to not think about it. Saying this much is hard enough please don—"

She broke off, her entire body convulsing with sobs.

I got up from my seat and knelt by her side and gripped her hand. It was silent for some time, she sniffed and wiped her eyes, still looking at the floor. I wasn't sure what to say, so I said:

"I'm sorry."

I'm a fucking virtuoso when it comes to conversation.

I should have just not said anything after that, but I had to ask.

"Then why, after what he's done to you, are you letting him come here?"

She jerked her hand out of mine with a look of pure malice in her eyes.

"What the fuck is your problem? Why does it matter to you? You have no idea what its been like living with something like that and you have no right to keep prying," she said it calmly and dangerously, "you should leave."

She glared at me and a single tear drop fell from her eye and landed on her hand.

If you were to ask me now why I said it, I wouldn't be able to give you an answer.

"Do you know how much of a pain in the ass it is trying to deal with a selfish, secretive bitch all the time?"

Her nostrils flared and her eyes flashed with rage. She picked up her plate and hurled at it me. Luckily it missed and it crashed into the wall behind me, spraying me with bits of food and porcelain.

"Are you fucking crazy?!" I screamed at her.

"Get OUT!"

"You've got some serious mental issues bitch," I pointed at her and backed away keeping my eye on her hands. There was still another plate on the table, "get some fucking help from a fucking professional cuz' apparently my help isn't good enough."

"Just GO!"

She was trying to stay tough and not start crying again but it wasn't going to last much longer. And I knew what to say to make her call me later and apologize.

I was almost at the door but I stopped.

"When you're up in your room alone and crying your eyes out, just remember who it was who started throwing shit. And remember who it was who just wanted to help and get to know their girlfriend a little better."

As I shut the door I glanced back to see if my words had hit home. They had.

The diner was unusually crowded. People were chatting and the waiters and waitresses were bustling about, attending to their tables. It was kind of a far drive to go to such a mediocre place, but this is where he wanted to take me so I agreed.

Charles Green sat across from me, nonchalantly chewing on a piece of chicken-fried steak. I didn't know how he could eat it. Grease pooled underneath the meat on his plate and oozed out of it as he cut into it with his knife.

I looked at my plate, a half eaten cheeseburger and some stale fries sat there, slowly getting colder. I didn't have much of an appetite. I took another sip of my water—probably tap water—and looked back at Charles. While he was clearly savoring his meal, he didn't seem to have the same affection towards me.

"All I want you to do is to talk to her—"

"Listen up you little shit, let me get one thing clear to you. I. Don't. Give. A. Fuck. About you. Not one bit. I had to listen to my daughter crying to me over the phone about the arguments you guys got into, the names you called her. And now you honestly expect me to help you try and win her heart back or whatever it is you want to do? You're out of your fucking mind."

His glasses had slipped down his nose and he pushed them back up with his finger. His face was flushed and his eyes were heated with anger. I sat in my chair, ashamed, and knowing full well what he meant.

I wasn't perfect. But what he was describing wasn't a regular occurrence. We definitely had our arguments though.

"I'm sorry I lost my temper babe."

She sounded sincere but I couldn't quite tell since it was over the phone.

"It's OK hun."

I was still a little annoyed.

"I'll tell you what's going on with my dad if you still want to hear?"

"OK, I'll listen."

"After I moved out, me and my dad didn't talk for almost six years. One day he shows up at my house, I never even gave him my address. He must have looked me up or something. Well, he shows up and literally breaks down and starts crying, apologizing and talking about how much he hates himself for what he did and that he's been getting help. Last week he called me and told me he was diagnosed with cancer and wanted to be with me while he was being treated because he had no where else to go. So I agreed. And that's why he's moving in."

It was silent for a moment. I had had no experience with something like this. I wanted to kill the guy for what he did, but I wanted to be understanding and take her side.

"How am I supposed to be in the same room as this guy after knowing all of this?"

Charles was still mad dogging me from across the table. He had stopped eating his chicken-fried steak some time ago.

"Well? Are we done here?"

"Honestly, how do you expect me to sit and have dinner with this guy after knowing this?"

Wrong thing to ask.

"How do even you even think you have a right to ask something like that?" She spat back at me, "I was the one who had to grow up with him, I am the one who's had to live with what he did, I am the one who's had to come to terms with him and you think you have the right to ask that question?"

Second time tonight that this guy has been the source of an argument.

His words seemed far away as he spoke. We always made up the same night, or at most the next day. A constant, never-ending cycle of torment. Neither one of us wanted to let go though because neither of us knew anything else but each other. She knew all my imperfections and I knew hers. The only problem was instead of accepting those imperfections, we just grew accustomed to them and threw them in each others faces when we eventually got tired of them. We would apologize later and then start the cycle again. But that was what we knew.

I couldn't help wanting to get to know her more and more whereas she seemed only comfortable with the half truths and limited bits of information she would share. The more I asked and pried the angrier she would get.

"Hello? I said, are we done here yet?"

"I heard what you said Charles."

I could either apologize and back off, or keep going. Unfortunately I wasn't very good at backing off.

"As a matter of fact, yes I do. It's not like you tell me anything on your own accord. It feels like you're on another planet half the time. I have to pry it out of you just to find out how your day was. You don't tell me a fucking thing so yes, I do have the right to ask any goddamn question I feel like."

Charles got up without saying a word and left the diner. I was left alone, stewing in guilt, shame, and anger. I had bared everything to him and all I wanted was the smallest bit of understanding.

And he gave none.

He gave none, and to complement the guilt trip, he also left me with the bill.

Prick.

## Chapter 22

Something happened inside of me. Something I hadn't felt in a long time.

Anger.

And it felt good. Pure, unadulterated anger. Raw, unrefined, pure.

Not about the check that he left me with.

Not about the things I had seen Charles do throughout my little trip down memory lane.

Not towards her.

Not about being trapped inside of a room with the Voice In My Head.

None of that.

But towards myself.

I realized in that moment that I had spent far too long trying to "keep the peace" at the expense of myself. Refusing to say what I needed to say. The fact that I felt like I needed to go through Charles in order to see her again made me feel pathetic. Settling for an unsatisfying bullshit job simply because that's what I could do. And who steals a fucking copy machine? Being stuck inside of my own fragile beliefs that The Voice has showed to me to be all wrong, made me feel lost and insignificant and belligerently unknowing. The claustrophobic feeling I had from being trapped in this room was making my skin itch and crawl and I needed to get out.

And the fucking bastard Voice in My Head kept staring at me from across the room with his goddamn smirk. I wanted to rip it off his face.

And somehow, the knowledge of my own worthlessness seemed to enlighten me and it created this feeling of anger.

And I liked it.

I could feel my blood pumping, the veins in my arms swelled, my head pulsed and I just wanted OUT. I saw what The Voice had been trying to do all along, he was giving me a scapegoat. Someone to direct my anger at, an outlet for me. He had been trying to help me this whole time and I just wouldn't accept it.

I felt weak and powerless at my new insight but also invigorated. Excited even.

The room around me pulsed on beat with my heart. Racing and pulsing so fast it made me dizzy. Even the furniture seemed to throb with the room. The chair The Voice In My Head was perched upon seemed to sway and rock but he was apparently oblivious to it. He just sat there watching me, eyes gleaming. He obviously knew what I was thinking and he was delighted with it. After all this time I finally understood him.

I felt a new found strength. I pushed myself up from the floor and the room became still. The pulsing had stopped. I couldn't even remember what I was so worried about a couple hours ago. Or was it days? How long had I been in this room?

It didn't matter now, I was back in my own house. The Voice In My Head was nowhere to be seen. Everything looked... Normal.

But things weren't normal, there was no way I could believe that. The Voice was leading me to a solution this whole time.

Charles...

A fresh wave of anger surged through me just thinking of his name.

Charles...

Charles needed to die.

# Book 3: Depths
## Chapter 1

A plate whizzed past my head and shattered into the living room wall behind me. There was already a vase in her hand ready to throw, water splashed everywhere as she drew her arm back and took aim with one arm, while trying to get her pants back up with the other.

I got my arms up just in time to prevent a dead-on shot to the face. The vase crashed into my forearms and shards of blue ceramic glanced off my cheek, while the rest of the water left in the vase showered me.

"Jesus fucking Christ! What the fuck is the matter with you?!"

The physical pain hurt, but the way she was treating me was worse.

"Get out get out!" She screamed. Tears of rage streamed down her face as she looked wildly about for more objects to throw. I could already feel the bruises on my arms.

"I am not leaving. We are going to talk."

I ducked just in time to dodge the picture frame with her and Charles at an amusement park. I darted up to her before she had the chance to hurl anything else towards me and grabbed her by the wrists—tightly.

"Will you stop throwing shit at me and sit down and talk to me?"

I threw her onto her sofa and straddled her, pinning her down on her back. She struggled and thrashed, and tried to scream but I covered her mouth with my hand.

"Look, listen to me OK? Listen and calm down and I'll let you go. You know I'd never hurt you, even if you are throwing plates at me."

Her eyes widened and she stopped flailing around. Her body loosened up and relaxed.

"Alright, I'm going to let you go OK?"

She sniffled and nodded her head and I released my hold on her arms.

"Don't you think you're overreacting a bit? Come on, I know you liked it too," I said with a grin.

Her fist collided with my jaw and knocked me off the top of her. She picked herself up and tried to start running, but I latched onto her ankle and tripped her.

The phone rang and she crashed to the floor, knocking over the corner table with the little knick-knacks and coasters. She tried to scamper away but I held on tight and dragged her back. I climbed back on top of her and clamped my legs around hers.

RINGRINGRINGRINGRING!

She tried to scream again but a swift blow from my fist silenced her. Her dazed eyes rolled in their sockets and a dribble of blood leaked from her mouth. I snatched one of the throw pillows from her couch and pushed it down on her face.

RINGRINGRING!

Realizing she couldn't breathe made her start struggling again. Her nails dug into my hands, drawing blood. I pressed harder and harder on the pillow, even throwing my upper torso on top of it to trap her talon-like nails.

RINGRINGRINGRINGRING!

One of them cracked and broke off, lodging itself into my flesh.

"You bitch!"

I pushed down harder, I could feel her nose through the pillow. I put my full body weight on it and a satisfying crunch, followed by a yelp, let me know I had broken it.

BEEP!

"Hey honey it's Dad. Just calling to see how you're doin'. I was wondering what night you'd be free for dinner, I miss you. Gimme a call back, I love you!"

God I hated that guy. Charles fucking Green. He was just too... Nice. And it bothered me for some reason.

I realized the movies have it all wrong; it takes far more time to smother someone with a pillow to make them just lose consciousness, let alone kill them.

It felt like an hour had passed but it really only had been maybe a couple minutes or so before her body finally went limp. Winded, I rolled off of her with the pillow and lay there beside her for a few seconds. She looked absolutely ravishing lying there like that, disheveled with her hair all messed up.

Beautiful.

I put my index finger to her pulse and felt that it was still throbbing, faintly. I wasn't sure how long she would be passed out for so I got up and hurried into the kitchen. She had a "junk" drawer that she kept a bunch of miscellaneous items in, one of which was Duct Tape.

I rolled her over onto her stomach and taped her wrists together nice and tight behind her back, followed by her ankles. I even checked to make sure she wouldn't be able to reach and get to the tape. Nice and secure. I tore one last strip off and placed it over her mouth and returned the tape to the "junk" drawer.

By the time I returned, her eyelids were starting to flutter open. I stood over her for a moment admiring her astonishing beauty. Her eyes bolted open as I picked her up and flung her over my shoulder. She squirmed and wriggled about like a worm but I held onto her tight, and walked out the front door.

When I got to my car I reached into my pocket with my free hand and pulled out the keys to unlock the passenger door. I turned the lock, but right as I did, she lurched off my shoulder and hit the pavement with a thud and a crack, some bone breaking. Perhaps her collar bone. I heard her whimper a bit followed by a muffled cry, and I turned to find her trying to scrunch her body up and extend it away from me down the driveway, almost like a caterpillar. I got the car door opened and grabbed her by the ankles to drag her back. I pulled, scraping her up something fierce, and she fought me when I tried to shove her into the seat but I managed to get her in and shut the door.

I got in the car and clicked my seat belt.

"Buckle up for safety hun," I said as I reached across her and clicked her own seat belt. It was an odd mix of anxiety, confusion and worry that spread across her face. I couldn't tell which was more dominant. She looked tired but it could just be the bruises under her eyes from her broken nose.

I put the car in reverse and backed out of the driveway and started driving down Sunny Lane, never did like the street. Too many willow trees canopied the road. Stupid name for a street like this.

"We're just going to my house, nothing to worry about."

I stroked her hair to calm her down but she flinched away from me.

"Just relax," I told her and gave her a playful flick on the forehead. She strained against her bindings, but I had put so much tape on her that I would have trusted it to hold my entire car together.

The streets and scenery passed by me in a blur. How could I pay attention to what's around me with a goddess like her next to me? But even still, I had to be careful. Other people wouldn't understand what was going on between us.

"I know you liked it as much as I did. We had both been waiting so long, I just had to do something about it. I know you understand, you've always understood me."

Fresh tears of joy sprang from her eyes. I wondered if she could read my mind. She couldn't seem to keep still. She must be excited for what's to come.

"Isn't it great though? To finally release all of that passion that had been building up? God... I held it in for so long. Too long, too many years. I know it must have pained you just as bad if not worse. But we don't have to hold back anymore. Doesn't it feel great!?"

My voice reached a fevered excitement as I continued, "I say we get out of this place. You and I never really cared for this town too much. I say we move into the city. And the first thing I want to do is take you somewhere nice. You know, one of those fancy restaurants, we can get all dressed up and everything."

Such bliss it would be... I couldn't wipe the smile off my face.

Her body was wracked with shivers as she wept, unable like myself to hide the happiness. Poor thing must be cold.

There was only one more intersection before Memoir Drive and I caught a glimpse of a headlight on the right side of my car, just behind me, while the light ahead of me was turning yellow. I wouldn't want to cause them any alarm, they really wouldn't understand what was going on here.

"Here, let me turn the heater on. You look cold."

I reached down and flicked the heater on as I merged into the left lane. Damn thing always got stuck at 75 degrees, and after the car sitting out in the cold for so long, the heater blew only cold air.

The light had just turned red.

You wouldn't want them to see you with her like this now would you?

The headlights were getting closer, they'd be stopped right alongside of me in just a couple moments. Without hesitation I slammed my foot on the gas through the intersection.

"Enjoying yourself?"

The Voice In My Head now sat where she had just moments ago. He seemed giddy, and a gleam of excitement shone from his eyes.

"We're here."

## Chapter 2

I recognized the little red car in the driveway, parked outside the garage. A porch light illuminated the front of the little one-story house. Very quaint but also smack dab in the middle of the street with neighbors all around. A wave of apprehension washed over me and I immediately second guessed this decision.

"Aren't you going to park?" The Voice asked.

I pulled alongside the curb and turned the lights off but I didn't shut the car off.

My palms left little sweat smudges on my steering wheel and my legs shook.

"I'm not so sure about this anymore."

The Voice In My Head threw himself back into the seat and let out a groan.

"Oh come on, what happened to all the bluster and fury and 'he needs to die' and such and such? This was your idea and your decision to make this happen, not mine."

"I've never killed anyone before."

"You haven't? Hmmm... Interesting. "

"That wasn't real. That was..."

Was what exactly?

"...That was in my head. You said it yourself."

"In your head, in reality, what's the difference? The only difference is that doing something for real actually has an impact. All the fantasizing in the world isn't going to do a damn thing for your head. I mean, you're having a conversation with a figment of your imagination right now and you're questioning your own solution to your problems. Really, what do you have to lose?"

So is this reality then? Am I really here outside of Charles's house right now, about to kill him? Or is this another fantasy? Did it even matter? It had to right? If it didn't matter, then the entire thing would be pointless. Nothing would be accomplished. If she's already dead, then killing Charles wouldn't do anything. If this isn't real, then it wouldn't do anything either. So what's the point?

"Because it'll feel good," said The Voice, "it'll feel good. Think of it as part of the healing process. You're mad, so let it out. What good does bottling everything up do?"

Fair enough. Real or not, it would feel good. It might even feel better if it was real. Probably would actually. But either way, I don't really know so I can't really be responsible. Right?

"Not at all. Just tell them the voices in your head made you do it."

Voice, not voices.

I grabbed the keys and turned the car off. The lack of engine noise created an uncomfortable silence that echoed around in a cacophonous roar. The "pop" from my door handle was a cannon shot in the still night, which didn't even compare to the clatter that rang out when I shut the door. Each footstep was a thunder storm of noise. It's a wonder the entire neighborhood wasn't outside trying to figure out where all the commotion was coming from.

His house loomed up before me, stretching miles into the sky despite it's one-story stature. I felt like an ant outside of the door.

Just turn the knob...

Locked. Shit.

A light flicked on from the far side of the house. The faint glow it made through the drawn shades was a spotlight shining down on me, giving away my presence to anyone within a mile range. The footsteps were getting closer.

"Don't just stand there!"

The Voice had dashed down the side of the house but I couldn't move, my legs were rooted to the spot and my brain couldn't seem to figure out how exactly my legs were supposed to work.

Another light flicked on. He was right outside the door. No point in trying to move now, he had surely already seen me through the peep hole and all I could do was stand there.

The deadbolt turned, unlatched, and the knob twisted...

And there he was, in slippers and a robe. Must have been getting ready for bed, a far less intimidating figure than usual. His magnified eyes peered inquisitively into me, trying to figure out what the hell I was doing standing on his doorstep at... I don't even know what time.

God I hated those glasses... But his eyes were wet, like he was just crying.

"What are you doing here?"

His tone was mellow and calm, nothing like what I expected.

I managed to stammer out a couple "I's" and "uh's" and the next thing I knew my hand was on the back of his head, slamming it into the door frame. His glasses shattered and embedded shards of lens into his face. His nose spewed blood and he collapsed immediately. I dragged him inside and shut the door quietly and stood over him. He seemed so much smaller now.

I stomped on his abdomen which made him ball up and roll onto his side, gasping for breath. I really couldn't remember why I was here in the first place, but this did feel so good. Seeing Charles writhe in pain... It was like the first day of Spring. Well, if I liked Spring that is, most people do and that's where the expression comes from so it's still applies. Right?

Her eyes blinked, still heavy from sleep and finally focused their gaze straight into my own eyes. She smiled and I smiled back.

Oh yeah, that's right... I was here because of her.

"Come on, let's take him back to the house."

The Voice In My Head was nonchalantly watching from the arm chair in Charles's living room.

"What if we get pulled over or something?"

"I really think that's the last of your worries. Come on, it'll be a lot more fun somewhere a little more... Comfortable. Here, I'll take his legs you get his arms."

Charles was unconscious in a puddle of blood. I took his arms and The Voice took his legs. Little drops plopped onto the tile floor, splattering and spattering in pretty patterns. The Voice fumbled around a bit to get the door open and then I had to fumble around to shut it and we made it back to the car.

We got to the trunk and The Voice and I looked at each other, shrugged and dropped Charles on the ground. I popped the trunk and we set him inside and headed back to my house.

## Chapter 3

She rested her head on my shoulder as I looked down on Charles from my couch. She made such a pleasant clinking sound with her chains while she nuzzled me.

"You did this to her."

He turned his face to me, the blood running down the top of his skull must have made it hard for him to see. He tried stammering out something but I couldn't tell what it was. It didn't matter anyways, I didn't want to hear it.

"You did this to her, right here. Dragged her down my hallway. Right there in that room," I pointed to my room and continued, "so I thought I'd do a reenactment for you. I thought it was fitting. So if you'll excuse me, I'm going to grab something from my car."

I turned to her, put my hand to her cheek and gently brushed it. Her skin was so soft. It didn't really feel quite right, a little mushier than normal, like it had lost its elasticity. But regardless, I lifted her chin and kissed her lips, or at least where her lips were supposed to be, softly. Her head lolled backwards, exposing the slit in her throat—still fresh, glistening with shiny, red blood.

"I just need you to make sure he doesn't go anywhere OK? I'll be back in a couple seconds."

Not that I was really worried about him going anywhere, he couldn't even stand up.

I went out the front door and she stood over him, keeping watch for me. She's such a good girl. I popped my trunk and took out the baseball bat I took from Charles's house. It felt good in my hand, solid. I couldn't help but admire the weight before going back inside, shutting the door behind me.

Charles was still squirming on the ground, cowering away from her while she loomed over him, her head hanging loosely down towards him.

The "tap-tap" of the bat made Charles freeze.

One step closer... Tap tap _..._

He whimpered and rolled over to face me.

One more step... Tap tap _..._

"God, please no! Please don't!"

"Shut up Charles."

One... More... Step...

Taptap.

"Well Charles, it certainly has been interesting. But now it's time for us to say goodbye."

I gave her a kiss on the forehead and gently brushed the hair from her face.

She had the most beautiful, soulful brown eyes. They stared blankly at me, her lipless mouth hanging open. She looked hungry to me.

"Go ahead hun, wave bye-bye to Mr. Green."

I spat his last name out, not wanting the syllables to linger on my tongue any longer than necessary.

She wiggled a hand from under her chains in an attempt to wave. Tears poured from Charles's eyes, mixing with the blood.

Her chains jingled excitedly and I took one last step forward, raising the bat high over my head with both hands.

"Please God no! Oh fuck!"

He raised his arm to block the blow as I brought the bat down, smashing into his wrist. A sickening but utterly satisfying crunch, and a scream. Music to my ears.

Charles had managed to save himself a full blow to the face and only received a glancing hit to the top of his head, which split open instantly, spilling fresh blood down his face.

He frantically tried to push himself away from me with his legs, holding his mangled wrist to his chest. Fresh howls of pain brought new vigor to my task at hand.

"Oh Charles, why did you have to do that? This could have been over real quick for ya."

I leisurely followed behind him, bat slung over my shoulder like a regular Major Leaguer, while he clawed his way towards the door. He looked behind himself and the terror and pain splattered across his face... Pure eye candy.

"You've caused me a lot of grief Charles."

I brought the bat down again, just behind his knee cap...

A crunch, a squelch, more screams of "Oh God!"

And again, this time directly on his hip bone...

The room flickered.

Sort of like how the blank room did... Whatever, that didn't bother me right now.

I brought the bat up again and heard the pulverized bones in his hip shift around in places they weren't supposed to go.

Charles rolled over on his back, not even able to scream anymore through the excruciating pain. A childish smirk leaked across my face, I was a kid inside a candy shop. My excitement was impossible to contain.

Giddily, I hopped over to him and smashed the bat into him over and over again, the room flickering each time. His bones snapped and blood spattered everywhere, all over myself, the walls, the carpet. I would clean it later.

I paused briefly to steal a quick glance at her. I thought her face had some look of approval on it but it was hard to tell. I didn't care though. I resumed the beating, cracking his rib cage with two good heavy swings. I smashed it into his gut, and he spewed up blood and vomit. The stench of copper and stomach acid filled the room, nauseating but the adrenaline kept me focused.

Smack! Another flicker.

"That was a good one Charles!"

Splat! Flicker.

"Hooo... Charles you're getting better and better at this!"

Crack! Flicker.

Squish flicker smack flicker smack flicker crack flicker splat flicker.

Euphoria flooded my body and I stood over him, ready to give the final swing. I couldn't even recognize the bloody piece of pulpy mess before me. He twitched just enough to let me know he was still alive. Perfect.

I took position off to the side of him and aimed the bat low, right at his head, and swung it like a golf club. It connected with enough force to actually send a shock back into my hands, making them go numb. I had put a hole right through his skull.

The room flickered again but not just once this time. It kept going, making me sick. The blood reversed its trajectory and flung itself back into Charles's lifeless body. It reversed itself down my walls, unsoaked from my carpet and cleaned itself off my bat. With a blink, Charles's body had gone. The bat in my hands vanished right before my eyes and I turned my head to look at the rest of the room.

Nothing looked disturbed, no signs of a struggle, no more blood. Just a room. My living room.

"Where were we?"

Her voice came from the sofa. I jerked towards the sound, wide eyed and slack jawed. She just sat there, as if I hadn't just beaten her father to death.

What's going on?

"You gonna just stand there or are you gonna come here and sit down?"

She beckoned me with her eyes. Stupefied, I obeyed and plopped onto the couch, still in disbelief.

It had to have been in my head right? I mean obviously, he's not here anymore and she's sitting right there. No blood, no chains. Normal.

Did I fix things? Was that some sort of cathartic event, bringing me some sort of closure... For what? What had happened that I needed closure on? What did I solve? Maybe it didn't matter... This had to be real.

It is real.

"Good. Now, what were we talking about?"

Without a word I grabbed her and pressed her mouth to mine. She seemed shocked at first, but didn't move away. After a second or two, she kissed me back. Her tongue flicked over my mouth and her hands ran down my chest. My fingers traced her spine, her flesh burned into my own and I pulled her shirt over her head and—

—backhanded her across the face. Her teeth dug into my hand with the force of the blow and drew blood, enraging me more—

—without missing a beat she yanked my own shirt off as well and fumbled at my belt—

—and ripped her panties off. Black lace, my favorite pair. It's almost like she wore them especially for me. She kicked at me but I grabbed her foot and yanked her off the couch—

—I gently rolled on top of her. The warmth from her thighs spread through my body as I pushed my way inside. She broke away from my mouth and gasped before pulling me back—

—slamming her head into the floor, stunning her. I quickly straddled her and forced my way into her. Her hair smelled like vanilla—

—I bucked into her, increasing my vigor with every thrust. Our moans blended into one sound, carried throughout the house on the musical notes of couch springs. She rolled on top of me and I stood up, still inside of her, wrapping my arms under her legs and carried her down the hall to my bedroom. I caught a glimpse of the glowing thermostat, 75 degrees. The perfect temperature. We collapsed together, spraying sheets and bedspreads into the air. A few more final thrusts and we climaxed together, melding into one form. Our bodies were slick with each other's sweat and saliva and fluids and it was beautiful.

The sea of clothing settled to the floor and we just rested there. The heat spread from one of us to the other and swirled around us, still trying to catch up from minutes ago. She nuzzled against me and I ran my fingers up her neck and through her hair, simply savoring the moment. Everything was OK now. Everything was perfect. Just me and her. Nothing else existed, we were in our own world now. I had been sucked into hers, and her pulled into mine. She trembled slightly and I pulled her tighter. Poor thing must be cold.

A tear rolled down her cheek onto my arm and I knew she felt exactly as I did. Swept up in the beauty of the moment. I couldn't have asked for better. It was perfect.

## Chapter 4

"I didn't remember there being a mirror on my wall... Or did I? Was it always there? I couldn't remember. But where did she go? I couldn't feel her beside me. A chill spread over my exposed backside instead of the warmth that was just there. The sheets that were still on me for some reason, seemed constricting. And there was that clinking sound again...

"God, it had nearly driven me mad. The constant clinking and clanking, scampering down my halls, not giving me a moments rest. A glimpse of movement from the corner of the mirror caught my eye, and her slender figure moved into frame. Well good, she was back. I had thought I lost her for a moment there. She ambled past me and behind the bed, clinking along as she went. The clinking noise didn't bother me anymore, knowing that it came from her.

"Wait a minute... Was I saying all this out loud? Whatever. It didn't matter.

"Her head lolled around, bobbing up and down as she stumbled past. The gash on her throat still looked perfectly fresh. Her hair covered her face, but I knew those chocolatey-brown eyes reflected the same affection that my own held. The clinking became almost soothing and rhythmic. Her steps were a beat. The thump from her first foot, the clink of the chains and lastly the slide across the floor from her second foot. I could listen to it for hours.

"She made her way back around the other side of the bed. My eyes followed her as she crept back and forth behind me, moving in and out of view of the mirror. It was hypnotic—I couldn't help but stare at her perfect legs, speckled with black, blue and purple bruises that provided just the right contrast with her fair skin.

"Her slender waist curved just enough, while her cotton panties hugged her tightly, showing off the dislocation in her hip. And the red-raw abrasion marks that lined her upper body like stripes, seemed to flow along her contour lines. A wild, tangled, beautiful mess of hair poured over her shoulders with drops of scarlet from her neck trailing down into the pattern of chains. No one could ever match her, and no one can take her away now. She was finally mine.

"The clinking stopped and she stood directly behind me—her head tilted dangerously to one side, a few bits of tendons and muscle clinging onto her spine—before putting a knee onto the bed. It took her a moment to get her balance as she pulled her other leg over the edge and climbed into the bed with me. She slowly got herself situated next to me and put her head up against mine. Her ragged breath tickled my ear and I chuckled at the gurgling sounds her throat made. I wanted to touch her face so badly but I couldn't move. She nuzzled against me lovingly, and even though her body had long gone cold, I still felt a sense of warmth just knowing she was near me...

...She pressed up tighter against my back and put her hand on my face. I couldn't quite look up at her but I could see her perfectly well in the mirror. Her hair brushed neatly, warm chocolatey eyes locked into mine in the mirror. She ran her hand down my neck to my shoulders, slowly slipping the sheets down past my chest. I wanted to grab her hand but the chains, wrapped tightly around me, prevented me from doing so. They hugged me close and I couldn't help but feel defenseless and vulnerable, at least at first, but after the shock wore off, I felt safe again. I knew she would take care of me. But the most comforting thought of all, was that she wasn't mine. I was hers. Just like it had always been since the very first time I saw her. Just as it always would be. I was truly hers and that could never change."

## Chapter 5

I opened my eyes, trying to remember where I was. What day was it? It took me a second to realize I was actually in my bedroom. My head felt a little fuzzy and I got lightheaded when I stood up. I was barefoot and the floor was cold. I walked down the hallway to the living room and saw that everything was... Tidy. No mess on the floor, no dead bodies, no chains, no putty walls, nothing weird. It looked perfectly normal. There was no voice in my head, following me around and talking to me, it was just me and my house. Normal.

I flopped onto my couch and a smile crept up onto my face and I began to laugh. I laughed and laughed and guffawed until tears rolled down my face. Everything was normal again.

I'm not sure how long I sat there in hysterics, but the rumbling in my stomach told me I needed to go and eat something. What time was it?

The clock told me it was 1:33 P.M.

Well, it didn't actually tell me, it's a clock after all but you get the point. I had really overslept. I could always get a doughnut and some coffee. I felt like I deserved it. What a strange couple of days it had been...

At least I think it was a couple of days. Hours maybe? Weeks? I wasn't sure.

Wait, wasn't everything normal anyways?

...blood reversed its trajectory and flung itself back into Charles's lifeless body. It reversed itself down my walls, unsoaked from my carpet and cleaned itself off my bat...

Hmm. Well, whatever. It didn't matter. I went back to my room and pulled on a pair of jeans, strolling back down the hallway with a botox smile plastered on my face. It was Monday, and I despised Monday, but today was different. Things were finally going to change. Normally, there was always something that could be better about Mondays but not today.

What a strange weekend it had been. Or weeks... Whatever. It didn't matter. Normally I didn't get to sleep in on Mondays but I figured I'd just call in sick today.

But did I need to? Wasn't I fired? Nah...

That was the best night's sleep I had had in a long while. Sleep hasn't been easy to come by as of late. But where was she? I couldn't have imagined last night, not no way not no how. So were did she go?

Hmm...

She hadn't been curled up next to me in bed, or waiting for me, watching TV on the sofa, or getting herself something to eat in the kitchen. She was nowhere to be found.

Her clothes were strewn about across the floor—I'd have to get them back to her—so she had to have been here last night. I could always see if I could catch her in the afternoon.

I was still a little groggy from last night, it almost felt like I was trying to remember a dream. I wasn't exactly sure of what I had done the night before. But her, I was definitely sure of that.

My stomach growled at me, I was starving. I went into the kitchen and saw a note on the refrigerator with her hastily-scribbled handwriting across the paper:

Meet me at my place at 2, I have a surprise for you. Last night was fantastic... I can still barely believe it. I'll cya soon! XOXO

Well, that answered my question. If I left now, I could just swing by and at least grab a coffee. She did like to cook, maybe she made lunch? A picnic maybe? I wouldn't want to spoil my appetite.

I needed my car keys...

Where were they?

I've always liked driving. It's always been a thing I could do to clear my head. It's easy to get lost in the rushing of the cars, the scenery zipping by, the rushing and buzzing... And just let go of everything. I never get tired of the brief little drive from my house to hers. The stoplights don't even bother me like they do with most people. For me, it's all just part of the drive.

Every now and then though, I get so caught up in my drive that I have to stop and ask myself, where am I?

I swear, I've driven this road thousands and thousands of times but that doesn't stop me from getting lost every once in a while.

I had to pull over at a gas station, that I guess I had never noticed before, and stepped inside. Rows of snacks and candy and junk food lined the aisles but I didn't see anyone running the place. I went up to the counter and peered around but there was no one in the back, and no customers. The place was deserted. Come to think of it, so was the road. Seemed a little unusual.

I turned around back to the door, no point in staying if there was no one here. I could always stop somewhere else.

"You look lost."

I jumped a foot in the air at the voice and spun back around.

A cashier sat inattentively behind the register, reading a newspaper. Blank eyes peered up at me from behind thick-rimmed glasses. His eyes seemed black to me, a sharp contrast from the bright reflection of light that shown off the top of his balding head. Seemed like a nice enough fellow, but strangely familiar...

"Can I help you with something?" His voice was long and drawn out. A hint of melancholy canvassed an otherwise bland tone. I could shine a light through the gap in his front teeth.

"I'm actually a little lost, I must've taken a wrong turn. Can you tell me how to get back to Memoir Street?"

He casually flipped a page in his newspaper, taking the time to read the headline and sighed. Something about a hit and run driver killing a father and daughter who were on their way back from dinner.

"There's too much nonsense nowadays. Too much killing and senselessness. It's selfish you know?"

I nodded in agreement, about to ask him again how to get back to Memoir but he cut me off.

"It only takes one person you know, only one person to set off a tragedy that affects dozens, maybe even hundreds. A ripple effect. Like this girl and her daddy."

He pointed at the headline.

"They were just on their way back from dinner, celebrating her acceptance into school when some fellow runs them down and doesn't even have the decency to stick around. Too afraid of the consequences and concerned about his own skin."

He shook his head and rested it, as if defeated, in the palm of his hand.

"But what are you going to do, right?"

Before I had a chance to respond, blood exploded from his throat, spraying me in the face. The man clutched at his gaping neck, futilely trying to stop the blood oozing out from between his fingers. The shock on his face was overcome by the realization of his helplessness, and he collapsed onto the counter with a thud, before slipping off and onto the floor with a wet squish as he hit the ground.

I had reeled back, trying to clean the blood out of my eyes, when I heard a voice I knew all too well.

"Whew! That sure was enough out of him don't you think? Don't you hate it when someone has to go and explain every little detail about every little thing they read, or hear or see, and then try to give it some sort of deeper meaning, their own interpretation? Picking out the morals and the symbolism and the blah blah blah instead of just taking things for what they are and moving on? Half of what you read about or see on TV is all bullshit, but people have to go and apply meaning to shit. You get these movies, just movies that are there to entertain, and some asshole critic has to go and talk about the socio-political messages behind it. Well guess what, it wasn't a social commentary or a political movie. So why is that asshole criticizing the social messages and political commentary? It's just a fucking movie!"

The Voice stepped out from behind the counter and wiped his blade off on his navy-blue shirt.

"You get old fucks like him who want to try and spoil everything for you. What if you had wanted to read that article huh? Doesn't seem like there's much of a point now does it? You've already got your own preconceived opinions about it all and it wont even be worth reading. The guy already gave away the ending. It wouldn't be very much fun for you to read it now, would it?"

I backed away as he moved closer. I was beyond being afraid of The Voice, but that doesn't mean I felt comfortable when he had a knife in his hands.

"He wasn't there now was he? He doesn't know what really happened, he just saw some words printed on a piece of paper and then decided he could go and give a sweeping generalization of the character of the person who hit them, when he doesn't even know anything about that person. Shit, he could've had the right-of-way and they jumped out in front of his car. I mean, it's unlikely, but even if that were the case, he's already been demonized and he'd still be the bad guy even if he wasn't at fault."

He stopped walking towards me and leaned against the counter, glancing over it at the man behind.

"So then you get some asshole who tries to fill in the blanks and over analyze, when really, the only people who are ever going to know what actually happened are the people who were involved. A journalist doesn't really know, just like a critic doesn't know the movie creator's state of mind, or the symbolism of what an author wrote."

He looked down at his shirt as if just now noticing the blood stains.

"Christ, I made a mess. Hey look, take a left at the light, follow the street down for about two miles and you'll make a right at Chestnut and then take the first left after that. You'll hit Memoir in about a mile. How many times do I have to tell you?"

How many times did he have to tell me?

"Cat got your tongue? Come on, let's get out of here. Don't you have somewhere to be?"

With that he dropped his knife and walked past me to the door.

"You comin' or what?"

Did I really have a choice? I did need to be somewhere. I couldn't really remember where though. Lunch? There was a diner not too far away. Or was I seeing her?

"I'm driving, toss me the keys."

Without even thinking about it I reached into my pocket and grabbed the keys, tossing them over to him. He opened the doors up and I got in the passenger seat, the door shut and clicked behind me. God I loved that sound. It meant I was going somewhere.

"Oh and hey," he buckled his seat belt and looked over at me. "You do know it's Monday right?"

"Yup."

"And the significance of it being Monday is that..."

"I know," I interrupted.

"Well good. Buckle up."

I clicked my belt in, sat back and relaxed. I could let him drive for a while. I was tired and I always hated Mondays.

And...

