Not my thoughts. Not. My. Thoughts. This was going to take some time to get used to. I didn't even think they were Morgan's. The thoughts contained neither of us - ah...but Morgan was a writer. That was probably just a scene going through her head.
Gerard and I sat in a weeping willow, on the forest floor, when her thoughts interrupted mine.
"How did we not even suspect anything?" I asked, still trying to shake off the rape scenario.
"She controlled our environment," he said.
Yeah, she controlled what we saw, technically. But how could she have controlled what I thought. Well...maybe she could control my thoughts, but she shouldn't have been able to control Gerard's thoughts. Unless she made it so I only thought that- no. I'm not even going to go there. I can't really know until...Ah! I didn't even let her explain the telepathy to me. Or the blocking shit.
But we were talking about how we were so oblivious. So, anywho-
“But...” Gee hesitated. “I should’ve realized. I mean...I can’t remember a time that wasn’t like this. A time where...being next to you didn’t make me feel like I had wings. A time where being away from you didn’t rip a hole through my heart.”
I was about to make a comment about the soap-opera tone to this conversation, but I stopped myself, realizing...he wasn’t attempting flattery. He was trying to make a point.
“And a time where,” he continued, voice beginning to break. “We were ever condemned for this.”
What he meant...a time that was never suspiciously perfect.
"You coming to bed, babe?" Gee asked.
"No, I think I'm gonna go wander around the cemetery a bit," I said.
"All right," he said, giving me a kiss. "I'll see you in the morning."
"Night, baby," I flashed him a grin.
His lips twitched upward in a half-smile, as he shut the door.
I shot downstairs before he could call me out on my lie.
See, I was never one to follow rules. So I didn’t pay any attention to Morgan’s words about not coming back to that part of her world without her. I knew it was dangerous, but I had to find those other voices in my dreams. Shit, if Morgan was going to let me hear the voices, she should have expected me to want to see who produced them. And it's not like I would go farther than what she showed me. None of the voices I heard were farther than what she showed me.
For the first time since arriving, the main floor was packed. Some band I'd never heard of was playing weird 50s sounding music on stage, while everyone else was dancing in the middle of the room.
I slipped outside, hoping no one had noticed. Everyone there must have had a mental rule not to let anyone other than Morgan go outside. I decided to use the first thing I ever really noticed as a sort of compass.
The field of paper flowers.
There was something interesting about that place that caught my attention. Something strangely soothing about it.
“Lost?” a female voice spoke. “You’re not supposed to be here.”
“I know,” I answered, looking up.
I jumped in shock. I'd expected to see the woman in white next to me; I'd forgotten she was like a fucking ventriloquist. As I got closer, I saw the woman was still bleeding profusely from her wrists, but she didn't seem to notice.
I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing would come out.
“You should go back before Morgan finds you,” she told me, no louder than she had been before.
“She...” I paused, distracted by her wrists. “Don’t you wanna fix-”
“No,” she interrupted me, then turned around and disappeared from sight.
Finally, I heard the echoic cackle. That dammed echoic cackle.
I turned around to see if it was the woman...it wasn’t.
This new creature sent more shock waves over me, gluing me where I stood, as it was far more petrifying than any of the other beings I saw while with Morgan.
Human, like the woman. But only barely. He was bald and paper white, like he was dead. His fingertips bore nails...or claws, I couldn’t really be sure, that appeared at least twelve, maybe fourteen inches in length. He wasn’t muscular by any means; in fact, he was almost rail thin. Literally. And naked. He was...naked. Except, it seemed more like seeing Spongebob naked, since there really wasn’t anything to cover up. Then I saw the teeth. Small and piranha like, but also molded together and...brown.
And, finally, what got me the most, were the eyes. Bright red, unlike anything I’d ever seen.
Better judgement would’ve told me to run right then, not look back, and keep my dirty little fop ass where it was supposed to be: near Morgan.
But I didn’t have that. So I didn’t do anything it would have told me.
Don’t judge so quickly, I thought, stupidly moving forward. It could be completely retar-
And then it shrieked.
And guess what? I completely ignored it. Was I tired? I had to have been tired.
But I knew there were boundaries. I knew I would be safe as long as I stayed past that invisible line.
Invisible. That’s the part that didn’t register.
I walked a full 30 yards, at least, before I stopped and waited for it to respond. When it didn't, I walked past the lone tree. That's when it snapped.
I didn't even have time to blink before I felt the bark of the tree rub abrasively against my neck, and the wind abandon my lungs. The creature's wrist held me in place, while it glared down at me with it's neon red eyes and its teeth bared.
I gasped against the pressure on my neck, while it simply stared at me. Like it was deciding.
Wishing the telepathic connection Frank and I shared was weaker was a bit of an understatement. I continually mentally slapped myself for ever even thinking of it. Which I guess could have made things more problematic, if I was slapping Frank, too.
But, just this once, I was relieved that I’d made it.
Sitting in the media room, while watching all the songs rearrange themselves and listening to Shinedown, I briefly, and involuntarily, snapped into Frank’s mind.
There were only two prominent things there, but that was enough. Enough to know he’d totally ignored me earlier...or he was just doing this to piss me off.
I ran out of the room and down to the second floor, deciding it would be best to get someone else before I went to find Frank.
Pounding on Mike’s door, I called his name loudly.
“What?” he yelled, opening the door in an irritated way.
“I need your help,” I said.
“Frank,” I said, just as irritated as he had been.
I led the way out of our building and toward where I calculated Frank would be.
Shockingly, other than the fact that he was passed out, my guess being from shock, Frank seemed okay. The creature hovering above him still worried me, though. I knew whatever had stopped him from shredding Frank to pieces could disappear in seconds.
"Do I have-"
"Yes," I interrupted Mike.
He flitted over and back with Frank in his arms in a fraction of a second.
I grabbed Frank's jaw and turned his face toward me.
"The creatures are deadly...and I am their pissed off maker...fucktard,"