Her voice calms, and she studies me carefully.
“Okay. That’s better. So now that you’re back, you want to tell me what is up with this guy, Rowan?”
Again, she flits away before I can answer. I am left standing in the cold darkness.
I hear her distant tenor echo in the abyss.
“Hey, you! Perv boy! Are you listening to me?”
She returns as quickly as she left, making my stomach churn as she turns my neural pathways into an amusement park ride.
Her momentary occupation of my conscious ends as she is bludgeoned from behind and thrown forcibly into the cold.
My hand is warm and wet…
Panting.
Heart still racing.
I’m spent…for now.
I tug at my zipper.
She’s so beautiful.
She’s so very close.
If only she really was her.
Then…
Then she would be perfect.
I tap directly into the solid grounding Felicity is forcing upon me and fight to expand my “self” outward. My growing consciousness forces the vile invader from within me. But it isn’t enough. I’m caught between Debbie and the shadow of her tormentor-effectively outnumbered. And, each time I chase one of the them away, the other comes from behind to occupy the space. I struggle to follow the tennis match going on between the hemispheres of my brain.
For one brief instant, calm ensues and I find myself face to face with a petite blonde.
She strikes a pose then begins to dance about.
Hey, hey, hey, whaddaya say!
Rowan’s here, now we can play!
Hey, hey, hey, whaddaya say!
Look at me, I’m dead today!
Take a good look, don’t you turn away!
Just look at me, Rowan, I’m dead today!
She stops and glares at me with a serious frown.
I’m dead, Rowan. So what are you gonna do about it?
“Rowan?” Ben’s voice slides in behind the morose prose. “What’re ya’ seeing? Tell me what you’re seein’.”
Before I can open my mouth to answer, my “self” is hijacked yet again.
“Oh yeah, that’s a great dress, asshole-if I was going to some kind of retro masquerade prom, MAYBE. Who the hell wears that much puke green taffeta? It makes me look like a bridesmaid in some kind of wedding from hell.” She unleashes a verbal assault then whispers into my ear, “Can you believe this guy, Rowan? He’s got the fashion sense of a rock.”
I just can’t even move.
I’m just so tired.
Don’t know why.
I’m so scared.
What is he going to do to me?
“But, you know, that dress is just plain ugly.”
What is he doing back there?
Oh God no, please…
I’m sobbing inside.
“Will you quit messing with my hair, you freak?” She shifts her view and yells angrily into the darkness, “Can’t you see that you’re scaring me?
“Yeah, that’s it. Come around here where we can see you.”
She turns her attention to me with a quickly uttered instruction, “Watch close, Rowan, here he comes.”
Blinding light.
“Dammit! Did you see him, Rowan? Did you?”
I see nothing but darkness.
“All right, you weirdo, quit messing with my feet. Get up and turn around so Rowan can see you, fetish boy.”
What is he doing now?
OUCH! That hurts!
What is he doing to my feet?
Why?
My heart rattles in my breast.
I can hardly breathe.
I’m so frightened.
“Look at that. The moron can’t even tell left from right.
“Move so Rowan can see you. Yeah you, you fathead, Rowan needs to see you.
“Oh, this is good. Look at this, Rowan. Sequined pumps. SEA FOAM GREEN sequined pumps. And would you look at how high those heels are! Where the hell did he get those things? Now I ask you, do I look like I have doll feet?”
A sudden flicker of light.
Psychedelic spots again.
“I think he’s got a wiring problem in that place. The lights kept doing that.”
Another bright flicker.
Pain rakes through my grey matter like a cheap wine hangover as the sudden switch of personalities occurs again. The throb hammers in my temples as the alternating trio of psyches begin a knock-down, drag-out battle for possession of me.
Oh sweet Jesus, she’s so beautiful.
She’s so close.
So close…
“What are you doing?
Please, no.
PLEASE let me go?!
Please don’t put that in my mouth.
Please no!
Somebody help me, PLEASE!
Gagging.
Bitter.
“You shouldn’t have given me that, you moron.
You already gave me too much to begin with.
You ever hear the word overdose?
Sheesh! What an idiot. Man, I just don’t care anymore.
Just let me sleep.”
Heavy breathing.
Struggle.
I feel so tired.
My chest hurts.
My heart is pounding so hard I can hear it.
Breathe.
I need to breathe.
“Come on you jerk, quit grunting. I’m not that heavy.”
Panting.
Excitement.
Arousal.
It hurts.
Oh God, it hurts.
Why is my heart racing?
God it hurts.
“Look, I may be a cheerleader, but I don’t bend like that.
Give me a break.”
Heavy breathing in the darkness.
Oh God, why can’t I breathe?!
“Look at him, Rowan. LOOK AT HIM!”
Hair just so.
Chin tilted up.
No, stay that way.
Yes.
Legs crossed.
The silky feel of her stockings against the back of my hand.
Another rush of arousal.
Yes! Perfect!
POP!
Bright Light!
POP!
Bright Light!
POP!
I can’t feel anything.
I can’t even feel my heart anymore.
I don’t care…
“Talk to me, white man.” My friend verbally insinuates himself into the vision once again, only to become a weak fourth voice in the turmoil.
If only it was really her…
Really her…
Really her…
Darkness.
Fear gives way to warmth.
Warmth gives way to cold.
Cold gives way to nothingness.
I don’t care…
“Oh, man, what are you taking your pants off for, you idiot?
You gonna jerk off some more?
Oh, no way.
You aren’t going to are you?
Can’t you see I’m already gone?
You fucking killed me already…
You’re gonna be screwing a dead body, you moron!
God, you’re just sick.
Man, put ‘em back on, that’s just disgusting.
You sick bastard.”
So beautiful…
So close…
For now…
She’ll do for now…
Look at me, Rowan, don’t turn away.
Look at me, Rowan, I’m dead today.
So what are you gonna do about it?
CHAPTER 9
“If I’d been told it was anyone else, I never would have believed it.”
The feminine voice issued from the doorway and was accompanied by the low whooshing sound of the door being forced quickly open. Sheathed in an authoritative tone with an underlying note of incredulity, the words glanced sharply from the tile walls, striking their targets from all sides. Those targets were, without a doubt, Ben, Felicity, and me.
The comment didn’t exactly seem angry, but it wasn’t altogether friendly either. It was more along the line of a mixture between disturbed chastising and a cold statement of fact. In any event, no matter what emotion could finally be pinned to the verbiage, the sentence cut through the atmosphere in the room on a determined course. The intent behind its mission was fulfilled as all three of us came instantly to attention, swinging our startled gazes toward the issuer of the remark.