The Child of a Torn
By: Mylifeinshadow, Quiet Man, and The Mobo
The Child of a Torn Fate
The Big Bad Wolf
"Are we there yet," I asked my
"We should get to the hospital any minuet now, Eric," was my dad's reply. It was my tenth birthday, and we were going to see my mom. I was told she got hurt somehow when she was little, but no one told me what happened. She had to go to the hospital every so often.
"Here," my dad said, handing me a shoebox. "Your mom won't like it, but you'll need them someday."
Rather odd gift to remember while driving to the hospital. There were two guns in there. Two very weird, and very fake, guns. They looked kind of like something from a horror movie. The dominant colors were red and black, with strange symbols on them. They had skulls bulging from the sides, with dull spikes on the top, like those on an alligators back, holding a bar. One was merely a mirror image of the other, perfect for using one in each hand. No real guns would be made like these.
"Dad, I'm turning ten, not six," I whined. "Unless they can actually shoot bb's, and they don't look like bb guns, it was a bit of a waste for you to buy these."
"O, I doubt that, but humor me and keep them, all right?"
"Fine," was all that I could say. They seemed like they weren't that cheap, so I had decided that, if nothing else, I could pawn them off on someone at school.
I'm not sure where my family stood economically. We weren't very poor, but we weren't very rich, either. If I knew what my dad had done for a living, I would probably have had a better idea. Whenever I asked him what he did, he always tried to avoid the question, and I never got a straight answer from him. He would disappear for at times, sometimes just a few hours, sometimes for a few days, but he always came back. I was afraid he was involved in something illegal, but he never came back with any questionable injuries, and we didn't live in hiding or anything like that, so I decided that it couldn't have been that bad.
He always had this strong prescience about him, like he'd always be there for me, protecting me, caring for me. He wasn't big, but he was tough. And it showed. His muscles were very finely defined on every part of his body, and he could lift me easily with one arm.
His closet was mostly t-shirts and jeans, with one gray suit, and plenty of jackets. My dad always wore a jacket, anything from a light and fancy dress coat to big black trench coat. That day, he was wearing a white t-shirt with blue denim jeans and coat, and had his rich black hair slicked back. I thought he was living in the past.
I was wearing a way-too-large black shirt with the fox symbol on it and blue cargo pants almost big enough to fit my dad, and sandy colored belt that you wrap it around metal rings instead of buckling it. I like big clothes, and I like black clothes. Not that I was emo or anything. Black just goes with everything. Even my buzz-cut-short, dirty-blonde hair.
We finally pulled up into the hospital. There were a few cars in the lot; it wasn't over crowded, nor was it empty, but when we walked in to the hospital, I was creeped out. The lights were on, the quiet lobby music could be heard over the low droning of the air-conditioning fans, and the twelve black e-z chairs were in their place against the sidewalls undisturbed, but the place was deserted. The worst part was the eerie chill I felt run down my spine. There was no cold in the air, no chilly draft, yet my hairs started sticking straight out of the goose bumps that were popping up on my back. It was easy to tell my dad sensed it too; I could almost see his muscles tighten in anxiety.
I looked down the hallways that were on either side of the desk, running diagonally from the lobby, forming a V shape. They, too, were the same as normal; they weren't dark and foreboding, they still resonated with the hum of the electrical equipment and the soft droning of the air conditioning fans. Yet the hallways also had an inexplicably eerie feel to them. I felt like there was someone, or something, watching me. I felt like around every corner, in every room, was a monster just waiting to eat me. I felt like if I moved, something would notice me and to hurt.
I was afraid.
I was scared and afraid.
More so than I had ever been in my life, and I had no idea what to do. I simply turned to stare at my dad and wait for him to tell me what to do. He never did. He went running down the hallway on the right, and took something out of his coat. It looked like a gun; a real one. And with that, he left me.
He left me scared and afraid.
He left me scared and afraid and alone.
"I sense darkness in this one"
It was a hoarse and rasping voice, almost inhuman, and it seemed like I could "feel" it resonate through my mind as much as through my ears. And it came from behind me. If I was afraid before, then I was terrified. I never heard anyone come through the door, and certainly nobody walked around me, but it definitely came from behind me. Every fiber of my being was stiff from fear, but I had to turn around. I was moving agonizingly slow.
"What do we do?"
The voice was the same in every way, yet had somehow seemed to be different. Great. Now there are two. I could see them now. If I was terrified before, now I'd be petrified.
Wolves. Ghosts. Ghost wolves. Black, floating specters, slightly transparent, staring me down. It was almost like they were made of air; their deathly visages slightly flowing to a non-existent wind. And there were three of them. I would never have thought it possible, but my fear had just reached a new height.
It was all the third said. But with that, the wolves lunged at me. I was thinking, as most probably would, "I'mgoingtodieI'mgoingtodieI'mgoingtodie..." I was too scared to move. But I felt, from deep within me, a sort of tug.
It felt like every particle in my body being pulled outward, but resisting. The feeling started moving outward, to the edge of my very being. It felt similar to flexing the muscles in my chest, ever consistently expanding the area of muscles being flexed, while at the same time releasing the ones I had just flexed. But it wasn't just my muscles. This was every part of me, from the center of my bones to the edge of my skin. The feeling stopped moving below my waist, and did not encompass my neck or head, but continued un-abated through my arms.
When it reached the tips of my fingers, it stopped. The flexing feeling stayed in my fingertips, and it felt like it stopped before it had time to relax the muscles in my arm. I felt it from my fingertips to just below my elbow, but was more relaxed the closer to my elbow. Then it started feeling like all the blood in my arms rushed to my fingertips as well, as if I had been swinging my arms in circles. The strangest part was when both the feelings extended beyond my fingers, and I could still feel it.
It all happened in an instant.
I covered my face with my hands, and waited for them to kill me. But they didn't. They couldn't.
End Chapter 1
The not-so-angelic angel
my hands I wore gauntlets; gauntlets that had not been there less
than three seconds ago. They were cruel looking things; they looked
like they were made of pitch-black obsidian, but clearly were made of
something much stronger, and felt like metal. They were thin, but
just feeling them gives you a sense of impenetrable strength; like
nothing but something else of this material could break them.
On the inside of the arm and on the palm, where the metal did not cover, was a strange leathery feeling material, giving off a similar impression of strength. They had wicked barbs on the outer section, and the fingers extended to curved points, forming ruthless looking claws, none too dissimilar to some birds' beaks. They were truly horrendous things.
"Fight them, Eric."
It was a young girls voice in the back of my head, probably a little older than me, almost like a conscience. But no conscience would tell a person to fight, ghost or otherwise.
"If you don't fight them, I'll have to do it for you."
Definitely not a conscience. Could one of these ghosts be in my head? But then why would it have me fight the others? Is there some kind of war going on in hell?
"There's always some kind of war going on in hell. And don't think so loud; someone might over hear us."
"Think so… what do you mean someone might over us? Scratch that, first tell me, WHAT ARE YOU AND WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY HEAD!?"
"I'll tell you later; now, you need to get rid of the wolf."
"Well, first of all, there are three of them. Second, and most important, THEY'RE GHOSTS!"
"Then let me help you. This would be an excellent demonstration of the uses of possession."
"Wait, what? Possession? I'm not letting some ghost possess me."
"Well, not only am I not a ghost, I'm not giving you a choice."
She was like a switch. She starts talking all dramatic like and using a "voice" that made everything seem like a life or death situation, then jump straight into a sarcastic, snobby little attitude. It's like there were two, but I could tell she was the same person.
And with that, I blacked out.
I awoke to
find myself lying on the ground in the hospital, the grotesque
gauntlets and ghost wolves gone. Was it just a hallucination? Did I
fall unconscious when I walked in the hospital?
"No, I certainly am not a figment of your imagination. Someone like you wouldn't be able to imagine a person as perfect as me. And for that last time, don't think so… o. I forgot. You can't. Well, we'll…"
"Will you stop treating this like this is normal? There is a little girl in my head ridiculing me for…"
"I am not a little girl. And no, this isn't normal; it's a first for me too. So stop thinking a listen to me."
"Stop thinking? If I did that I'd die."
"You know what I mean. Now, first off, I'm not going to answer your questions. Anything you need to know, I will tell you. And right now, that's a little about you."
"Let me finish."
"Mmm… no. I don't want some THING telling me about me. Maybe if you told me who, or what, you are, I'd be more inclined to help."
"Snotty brat, I'm here to help you. All right then, you can call me Light."
"Light? What kind of a corny name is that? It's like some thing from a lame fairy tale or something."
"I'm a voice, in your head, that just helped save you from ghosts, after you magically summoned demonic gauntlets."
"Now, will you let me finish?"
"… Fine. I don't seem to have much of a choice anyway."
"Well, then, a little about god…"
"I thought you were telling me a little about me."
"Ugh, you really know how to try a girl's patience. Just listen. Basically, Heaven and Hell are real, but probably not in the sense you think o…"
"Hey, I just realized, you can read my mind, can't you?"
"Seriously, you have to be the slowest person I've ever met. Yes and no; I can only hear what you're consciously thinking."
"OK, I just wanted to clear that up. Don't want a girl going through my head, learning all the secrets of manhood."
"O please, little boy, men can't keep secrets from women; it's a physical impossibility. Now, for the last time, stop interrupting me."
"For the last time? So, you're, going to, like, go away if I interrupt you again?"
"Fine then, have it your way; but when the Big Bad Wolf comes back, I aint helpin'."
"Hold on, the big bad Wolf? Like, "Little Red Riding Hood and the Big Bad Wolf" the big bad wolf?"
"I don't know why mortals always associate her with The Big Bad Wolf; but yes, she is one of the many The Big Bad Wolf has driven insane since he was bereft of his own sense. She was rather lucky that The Big Bad Wolf did not kill her, or worse. She is currently being kept at Dumpty's asylum."
"You know what? I have no idea what you're talking about, so please stop explaining."
"Now can I finish?"
"I won't interrupt, but I can't guarantee that I'll pay attention, or, for that matter, understand."
"Humph. Then I'll give you the abridged version; you're a half demon, half daemon, and there is a certain powerful, ancient, did I mention powerful? demon after you. I'm here to help train you. I'm ready to start when you are."
"What's the matter?"
"One of us is insane, and since I'm talking to a girl in my head, it probably doesn't matter, 'cuz we're both me. Which means I'm insane. Which means…"
"Sorry to rain in on your little doom an' gloom parade, but I am neither a figment of your obvious insanity, (you got that part right), nor in your head. In fact, I've been having a nice leisurely stroll down the perfume aisle for the last few minuets. Funny though, you know you never got up after you blacked out? Lying on the ground probably isn't the best thing to do when your father just disappeared."
"Crap, I forgot about dad!" I bolted up and ran down the right hallway, trying to remember which hallway my dad started down earlier. I guess I got it right, because as I turned down the hallway, I could see one of the doors looked a little odd. Most hospital doors aren't decorated with skulls, nor do they generally have an eerie, pulsating glow.
End Chapter 2
Rebecca and Red
"You know what, Light? I don't think
this is just imagination. I refuse to believe I can imagine such a
creepy door." I slowed down as I reached the door. I was afraid,
to be sure, but I had to find my dad. I was just a few steps away
before "Light" interrupted me.
"Um, Eric, I really don't think you should go in there just yet."
If she was actually talking to me, I would have probably said she sounded scared. She certainly seemed to be. She, who could possess my body, who could fight ghosts, and do god knows what else, was afraid. And that made me afraid.
"Um, well then, what now? I want to find my dad; I'm not leaving him here." Boy was I cocky. I was a ten year old, with no weapons, no experience; the only thing that I had in my favor was a voice in my head that seemed to know more about what was going on than me.
"Well, anything. I don't know what is behind that door, but by the looks of it, it's not gonna be pretty. We need to be prepared for anything."
For a girl, she was a pretty bad liar. I knew she knew exactly what was behind that door, but I'll be damned if I argue with her just before running head long in to some kind of creepy demon door thing.
"And just how do I do that?"
"Do you think you can summon your demon claws again?"
"Umm… you mean those things from earlier?"
"Sigh. Yes. I'll try and help, but I never was too good at that stuff. Do you remember what it felt like?"
"O yah. I'm never going to forget those scary things. I'm going to use them?" I hated those things. They were scary. They looked like something that was about to murder me; not save me.
"All right, good. Just imagine what it felt like too summon them. Visualize them; imagine them on your hands. Feel them. Picture them in your mind to the minutest detail; I'll handle the rest. One of these days I'm going to teach you to do this on your own."
I did what she asked. And something happened. But it was different. I was in control this time. It wasn't in involuntary action; I brought it about this time. Sure I had some help, but that didn't matter. This time, I saw. This time, I nearly hurled.
The claws did not just appear; they didn't pop out of no were, materialize slowly, or do any of that stuff. They grew. From my arm.
The black metal started poking its way out of my arm just below my elbow and snaked down my arm, popping up as curved lines that pushed themselves together into one solid sheet. The leather straps started just after the metal. They launched out of the metal and wrapped around my arm in a sort of crisscross fashion, but the pattern had neither rhyme nor reason that I could see. I watched as the metal wrapped around each of my fingers, leaving tiny gaps so that I could still bend them, which were promptly covered by the leather. This probably took about a second, though it felt like an eternity. It made the wolves look like pleasant company.
"What the… did they just grow out of my arm?!"
"Oh my goodness. That was… unexpected."
"O, great, that fills me with confidence."
"It's alright. I had my suspicions, I just didn't expect to be so… correct."
"All right, I'm ready."
"O, so you get some cool claws think your all that, huh? Do you even know how to use them?"
"Umm, well, no…"
"I didn't think so. Just leave yourself open to me this time, I'll only takeover if we run into anything you can't handle. Which is probably anything and everything."
"Well, don't you just have a wealth of confidence." I tried to be brave. I didn't want to go in there. I wanted to have no part in any of this. I wanted to go home, sit on the couch next to my dad, and watch TV. But I had to get my dad before I could do any of that. I think she was doing the same thing, I just didn't know why; or, for that matter, who for.
Of course, I forgot about what dad gave me in the car until it was too late.
A girl. That's all there was. A little girl, who couldn't be much older than me, wearing a hooded red cloak, holding a straw basket. And a huge, jagged, bloody sword. She crouched and jumped at me.
"All right, I'm tired
of this. The hospital my mom was at is haunted, my dad left me, I've
been talking to a girl in my head, get jumped by another girl, and
then find my self lying in bed at home. I WANT ANSWERS!"
I was tired. I was confused. I didn't know whom I was talking to. And I was hungry. I didn't know why, but after my first bit of shock, all I could think about was how hungry I was.
"I know what you mean. I'm a little confused myself."
Her again. The misguided little freak girl. She was frustrating, conceited, and down right annoying. Most girls, you can at least avoid; this one was in my head.
"You? Confused? Little-miss-know-it-all? I'll bet that's not a first. Tell me what happened. Who was that girl?"
"So now it's the cold shoulder treatment?"
I just figured I was insane. I
didn't think it was too bad, at least I knew what was normal and
wasn't. If I start confusing the fake for the real, then I'll get
I knew he wouldn't answer. He couldn't. I knew he was gone, I watched him run off. But I was alone. Even the voice had left me then. How was I going to go on? I was too young to do anything; I was just starting middle school. That was about when I heard the door open.
"Eric? I'm here!"
A woman. A woman that I did not know. I could hear her high heels clacking on the hardwood floor. It sounded like she was carrying plastic bags. Her shoes made a good deal of noise when she took them off, and the practically stomped her way into the kitchen. Boy was she loud.
Then I realized; I wasn't afraid. It might have been her friendly attitude, it might have been that I had had enough fear for the rest of my life the night before, but I wasn't afraid.
I sat up in my bed, and realized that I was still wearing the same clothes as the night before. I didn't really care at that point. I hopped on to the carpet and started padding my way the four or so feet out of my room to the top of the steps. I didn't make it.
My legs crumpled underneath me, and I fell with a "thud". It didn't really hurt; my legs just felt like they had no muscles, but it caused my dressers to shake, and I could hear my mini dragon statues shake. I had a black display case that held twelve of the things. They were a little bigger than my hands balled together, and were made of some kind of heavy plaster. Each one had its own name and a fake jewel of a corresponding color they were depicted as protecting.
I could hear my display dagger, about 1½' long, the handle a red dragon, the blade his fire breath, wobble on its stand and clank against the mirror. Around the mirror, on their tiny shelves, the fancy wooden display cases holding my extremely expensive letter openers rocked and fell. The pendulum of my clock, the fireball of another dragon, rocked back and forth more violently than normal. I was glad to notice that the other statues, one of two dragons fighting over a pit of fire, a fake crystal ball held by the flames between them, one, mounted on a wall, of a dragon wrapped around a small sword, and one of Jesus the savior, were rock steady.
The lady, whom I had yet to identify, called up to me, "Eric?! Are you all right?! I thought I heard something fall!"
Still feeling a little on edge, but not wanting to make a scene, incase I should know this person and only forgot, I yelled back a bit sarcastically, "Not something, someone."
"Oh my god! Eric, are you all right?!"
Well, who ever it was she had seemed to care. That didn't matter to me though. "My legs feel like Jell-O, my clothes stink, and I think I'm going insane. Who are you and why do you care?"
At this point, she came running up the stairs, and I finally got to see her. I guess she was pretty, if you could see past the girl cooties. Actually, she almost looked like a model. Dark brown hair that came straight down to her shoulders, and tanned skin, she was trim, though a little flat breasted, but she wasn't dainty. She had well defined muscle; she wasn't skin and bones like models; and she had a hard expression on her face a refined lady would never be able to pull off. She was wearing a I still didn't recognize her. She wore a deep yellow t-shirt that came loosely down to her hips and very baggy black cargo pants with a white belt that had a weird, round buckle. She had good taste in clothes, but I still couldn't recognize her.
"Eric, what happened? Are you all right? Say something."
She was down on one knee staring down at me. I was laying down on my back with my hands behind my head, but my legs were in awkward positions. My left leg was bent, my foot underneath my rear, while my right leg was only slightly bent, but was facing out to the right. I could feel my legs, I knew they were there and that they were in awkward positions, but I couldn't really feel with them.
"You still haven't told me who you are. I think that's a bit more important."
"You talk big for a ten year old. I'm Rebecca. I'm a nanny, a sort of long-term baby sitter. I got a job watching you from some lady; she sounded young, but she certainly didn't seem to be."
"So basically, you're here to replace him."
And then it hit me. He's gone. He's gone and I might never get to see him again. I cried then, a cried long an hard, until my body was too dehydrated to produce anymore tears. She took it the wrong way. Two hours she spent, trying to console me and make me think she wasn't bad and that it would be fun and so on, but that wasn't my problem. Finally, when I could breathe long enough to talk, I did my best to tell her.
"Go sob away.sob sniffle I don't sob care."
I wasn't thinking straight, so didn't too good at conveying the message, but at least she left me for a minuet.
"I'll go get you some water," was what she said, but was gone for a while.
By the time she got back with a bottle of ice water, I had just about finished crying, and was starting to get some feeling in my legs.
"All right Eric, here's some water. Now, why don't you tell me some things. What did you mean 'You're just here to replace him'?"
"My dad; Light called you to sob replace him. He left, and, and, and, I'm never ghunna see him again."
"I can't believe that. Do you know why he left?"
"B'cuz there was sob no one there."
"At the hospital. The place was empty. The clerks, the doctors, the patients, the friends and family, they were all gone. Which meant mom was too."
"You mean the Old Faith Hospital? That place was scheduled for demolition a week ago. They blew it up today. When did he leave?"
"… Who's Light?"
"Don't tell her. If you tell her, I'll have to leave."
I didn't want Light to leave. She was annoying, but she obviously cared, and it was nice to have a friend always with you. So I did the best I could at lying.
"She's one of dad's friends. I know it's not her real name, but I don't know her real name."
"You left." I was going to try to have two conversations at the same time. I didn't really think about it, but if I did, I probably would have realized how hard it would be. Instead, I had Light do the thinking for me.
"Stick to one conversation, you silly child; you aren't attentive enough to talk to the both of us at the same time. See, you probably just missed that; the nice lady asked you to go wash your hands."
"O.K." I "said" it both through my mouth and my mind.
Under normal circumstances, I would have protested a babysitter, especially when I didn't know I'd be having one. But these were far from normal. I had been slapped in the face with all this stuff; ghosts, spirits, magic, demons; a babysitter popping up out of the blue was rather welcome.
I got up and wobbled into the bathroom. When I finished washing the snot off my hands and face, I went back into my room. I opened the curtains, and was surprised to see it was night. Was it still the same day? If so, what day was it? I decided I couldn't start thinking about the weird stuff that happened until I can straighten out the normal stuff, so I had a talk with Rebecca first.
End Chapter 3
Of Demons and Daemons
"It's Wednesday, the twenty third of October.
Rebecca seemed a nice person. She seemed to know when asking questions wouldn't help anything, and when asking unwanted questions was necessary. Too bad she shouldn't have asked that last one.
"I… I forgot."
I lied. The day we went to the hospital was the fifteenth. The day before, if I remember what Rebecca said correctly, they scheduled the demolition of the hospital. No wonder I was so hungry.
It hit me again. Between Rebecca and crying, I totally forgot about my hunger. Now it hit me in the stomach like a twelve-wheeler. I heard it grumble so loud, I wouldn't have been surprised if the neighbors heard it.
"Was that your stomach?"
"What do you want? I've got some ice cream…"
"Yah, sure, you do that. I'd like some too, but I need something now."
Another miscommunication. What I meant was more along the lines of "while you get that ready, I'm gonna go pig out on something." I guess I can't think any better when I'm starving than when I'm crying.
"Umm… all right? I guess I'll just go make myself use full… some where else in the meantime."
Could she be much more obvious? I went and grabbed a box of Cheese-its and started woofing them down by the handful.
"How old are you?" I didn't want her to leave yet, and it was the first thing I could think of to say that would get her to stay, at least just a few seconds longer.
"Never ask a lady her age. But twenty-nine. Your ten, aren't you?"
"Yah, I'm just starting… o my god, school!"
I think that since I finally had some food in me, I started thinking clearly. I certainly got smacked back to reality with a few realizations.
First: I'd been out for a week, so no school. What do they think happened? Second: I might have been able to go with ought food for a week, but I'd remembered hearing a person can only go three days with ought water. How am I still alive? Third: How am I going to explain what happened to my dad? "He left" wasn't going to cut it. The list went on.
"Whoa there cowboy. Your thoughts are so jumbled, you're messing me up. I've been out for as long as you have, and I need something to eat too, though you have a good point; how are we alive? Red usually never lets a single mouse escape her."
"Red? The girl in the room with the door?"
"All those rooms had doors."
"You know what I mean. The scary one."
"Yah, she's Little Red Riding Hood."
"And I thought I was confused before…"
"O please, I've already told you more than I ever intended to. And I still never got around to telling you just what is going on. You still want to know."
"Will knowing make this any easier?"
"You sound like you've resolved to go through with this. I haven't even told you what you need to do."
"Well, I seem not to have much of a choice in the matter. If I don't accept your help I'll…"
"Hey! You're talking out loud. Rebecca can still hear you."
"… Probably get sent to an orphanage."
Rebecca let out a sort of giggle. "You make it sound like I'm doing charity. That Light girl's paying me."
"Oh." "You have money?"
"Well, sort of. I have access to emergency funds. I'm only allowed to use it if it is the only way to get out of a mission ruining situation with ought any death."
"Yah. Officially, I was sent on a mission to help you. What really happened is that I came to help you, and my parole officer was nice enough to cover for me."
"Your parole officer? So, you're human, right? Not some ghost thing?"
"I'm not at liberty to tell you what I am, but no, I'm not a ghost."
"Will I ever meet you?"
"If my objective is achieved, yes. If everything goes according to plan though, it won't be for a long time."
"Can you tell me your objective?"
"What can you tell me?"
"Three things. First, you seem to adapt very well."
"Thanks. And you're not as annoying as I thought you were."
"We need to work on your compliments. Second, you're not human."
"You mentioned that earlier. You said I was half demon, half something."
"Half daemon. That's a…"
"Hey, you want to go swimming? I saw a pool on my way through the neighborhood."
Rebecca interrupted Light, but there was no way I was leaving it off like some kind of fairy tale were some character interrupts some oracle telling the main character something, and it turns out they don't get to say some crucial fact.
"Gimme a sec."
"A daemon is a… spirit kind of thing. It's not like the soul of some dead person or anything, it's a… well, I will just give some examples. God is a daemon. So is Satan. So is Jesus, and angels."
"I think I understand… so my parents aren't my real parents?"
"Well, yes and no. I can't talk about that though."
"Yes and no… that means one of them is?"
"No, it means WAIT! Wow, I almost got tricked into talking by a ten year old. And a boy. I guess you aren't as hopeless as I first thought."
"Well? You want to go?"
Rebecca again. I think she wanted to go as much for herself as she wanted to take me.
"Yea, I'll go. I'll get my bathing suit."
"Take your time, I'll need to get mine out."
She went over to the kitchen table and opened one of the plastic bags I heard earlier. There were clothes and toiletry items and such in them. I guess Rebecca was staying here.
"I figured you two would hit it off. I figure I might even be able to learn something from her; not that I'm not perfect or anything, it'll just make me more perfect."
"Sure, whatever you say."
End Chapter 4
I went back upstairs to my
room to put on my bathing suit while Rebecca was searching for hers.
I couldn't decide which one to wear; the black and blue one didn't
fit me, the yellow one with flowers on it looked fruity, and the
bright blue one was too big. I finally decided on the blue one; if it
fell off when I was swimming, too bad.
At that point, I remembered something I had completely forgotten before; the guns my dad gave me. Were they important? Were they related to what happened at the hospital? If so, then did my dad expect something was going to happen? I knew my most reliable source was probably going to just shrug it off, but I asked anyway.
"Do you know anything about those guns my dad gave me?"
"The ones he gave me in the car."
"I wasn't connected to you before the incident with the Big Bad Wolf."
"So you don't know anything about my life before we were connected? How would you know anything about my parents? And you didn't know what I was thinking, I must be thinking quieter."
"I noticed that myself. And I told you before, I can't 'read' your mind or anything of the sort. This link is supposed to be a form of communication."
"But you could see what I was seeing back there."
"O yea, I forgot to mention that. You analyze what you see so much, it's hard to believe you're so young. I bet you do well in school."
"Augh! Did you have to bring up that accursed place?"
"Do you even know what that means?"
"No, but I've heard my dad say that when he needs to go to a place he doesn't want to go to. Speaking of which, do you anything about my dad? Like, where he is? Or, at least, what he did?
"… I guess I can read you a little of his file. 'Tim Hillman is a specialist hit man for mayor Mandy. He specializes in surgical removal of demon communities without raising any questions.' Happy?"