Part Eight 1/2_My Perfectly Normal Trip To IKEA

————————PART EIGHT————————

“How’s jumping to conclusions going for you so far?”

I’m tracing my finger around the circumference of the combination lock.

“My twice-validated opinion isn’t ‘jumping to conclusions’,” I replied to her.

She never makes eye contact. She’s said eighty-four words to me in total, but not a single one has been uttered whilst looking me in the eyes. It’s hard to tell if she even knows who she’s speaking to.

It’s hard to tell if she cares who she’s speaking to.

“And that validation is from… someone reliable?” She says. “Not the confirmation bias you’ve been dwelling on for the past week?”

She’s beautiful in a semi-obvious way. It’s just so blatantly obvious that her face should exist. It’s the same face that’s routinely assigned to any fake woman in my head when I’m daydreaming. Her flawless confidence looks easy. Not intricate, just essential. For God to have waited until my small little span of time in the universe to make her… it’s so baffling.

“I didn’t make anything up. His punk-ass excuse for a ‘boyfriend’ did.”

“Ah, I should have realized it’s a homophobic thing. You look like someone who’s openly intolerant.”

How would you know? You’ve never looked at me.

“He’s my best friend, I’m not homophobic. I’m allowed to be mad at a gay person like anyone else. Being close doesn’t mean he can use me for someone else’s attention.”

“Thucydides would have hated you.”

“Sorry, does that mean you’re agreeing with him?”

She finally looks at me.

“It means I’m flirting with you… probably the same thing Chandler is doing, but you’re being too insecure to take it as a compliment.”

I’d been unfamiliar with a perfect distance of toe and line. I felt like I had been hard-wired to be very angry with her just because of what she was, but I wasn’t angry.

I was too busy being sedated by her pristinely elegant dignity.

“GET IN THE VIEW OF THE FUCKING WINDOW!” She screamed at me through the closed door.

Cody Camargo: Twenty-Eight days in.

——————

The door to the cell briskly opened, as I stood against the back wall with my arms spread out. Elijah walked in, throwing me a water bottle as I swatted my arms in to catch it.

“Big day big day big dayeeeee!” Elijah chanted. “How you feel?!”

I drank half the bottle before answering him.

“Ready to piss myself,” I said.

“Ugh, that’s all you ever think about, isn’t it? What an empty life it must be.”

He patted himself on the back as Natalie walked in behind him, already looking annoyed with me.

“Morning,” I said to her emptily before finishing my water.

“Did you get any sleep?” She snapped. “Unfriendly reminder that if you collapse out there, we are not coming to find you.”

I got maybe… two hours? Even with my new freedom of sleeping in whatever position I wanted, I was consistently getting the worst sleep of my life every night. Pandora’s Box had been opened, and my nightmares were constantly running rampant the second I closed my eyes.

I can’t be granted the power to sleep outside the point of total exhaustion.

“Well rested. Don’t you see how chipper I am?” I threw back at her.

I had actually given up trying to sleep about three hours earlier this morning, and started pacing around the room in the dark until the lights came on outside. Walking around this cell in circles might sound like a gourmet recipe for losing your noodle, but after growing accustomed to being so cramped up in that chair 24/7, it kind of feels like I’ve learned how to move in the fourth dimension. Walking is my new best friend. Our relationship has been through a lot of ups and downs, but I’m pretty happy about where we’re at these days.

“Hey,” Elijah said as he clapped his hands. “In honor of this momentous occasion… maybe Cody could, I don’t know, go piss on his own like a normal human?”

He batted his eyes at Natalie, sprinkling his fingers through the air.

“Sure,” She started. “Then we can start a petition for zoo animals to leave their enclosures and use the human bathroom to relieve themselves.”

“Alright well, a yes is a yes,” He replied before turning to me. “You wanna go for a walk?! Outside?! Outside?!”

He patted his thighs with both hands.

Today was the fifth day of my five-day promise to Elijah. Over the past four of those days, it was made unmistakably clear between the two of us that I was not very fond of him. I had almost completely given up the effort to suppress my passive-aggression, as he had completely embraced his effortless ability to make me remarkably apoplectic.

“Maybe,” I said. “I’m pretty okay with the dresser-drawer routine for now.”

His eye twitched. Despite our annoyance with each other, we had built up enough familiarity by the third day to address my elephant in the room. The dresser drawer that day had been occupied by a solid, not a liquid. I internally shivered along with him.

“Godda-…” Natalie said. “Just… take him to the bathroom, please.”

Elijah smiled.

“PRIMO! Alright, follow me,” He said.

“I only respond to ‘Here, Boy’.”

He sent an L’Ombrello my way and slipped out of the door. I began to follow him, before her leg blocked the doorway, stretching up in front of my waist.

Please don’t do things like that when I have to piss…

I sighed.

“Yes?” I said, in the most irritated whine I could muster.

“If you’re really up for it,” She began. “Feel free to just croak out there where no one can stop you.”

Gi-goddamn-normous talk from the person who couldn’t pull the trigger.

“You say a lot of things that make me want to lose more teeth.”

Her brow furrowed violently, as she gracefully retracted her leg. I hurried past, a little scared of the front of my body facing hers in the next ten seconds.

“Elijah,” She called from behind me. “Meet me back with him at the pantry the second you’re done.”

“Relax,” He said, spinning around to walk backwards. “It’s not like I’m taking him to Disney World.”

“Elijah!”

“Yes, Ma’am. I will,” He whined, facing forward again.

I quickened my pace to stick close.

“Hey,” He said. “Is irritating me really worth pissing in a cabinet-receptacle?”

“Yes, Sir,” I answered militaristically. “Can we walk a little slower?”

——————

“What are the chances?”

“Huh?” He said, as we approached the bathrooms.

“What are the chances of a Café and bathroom being right next to each other?”

“Teeny-friggin-weeny. The bathrooms are part of the actual Return and Exchange counter. They’re employees-only.”

We came up to a somewhat large structure, with a black star embroidered on the front above its entrance. It looked like a giant blue drywall chimney was protruding from the heart of the building. It stretched to what I would say was about half the height of the walls that surround R&E, before stopping abruptly in the awkward middle of the air. I faced back down, as Elijah held open a horribly color-clashing door for me. I entered the building’s lobby to see a long curved desk about thirty feet back. The left side wall had ten chairs pushed up against it, three of which were occupied by three women chattering to each other. They went quiet and stared at me rudely as I entered the room. I froze, for only a moment, meeting eye contact with them. When I was so used to Natalie’s invasive gaze, the stare/glare of anyone else seemed comparably meaningless. Still, I looked away as their conversation continued, a little quieter now.

I began to walk before stopping again, as I looked down to the material changing beneath my feet. Instead of the random carpets that cloaked most of this building’s floor, I was now standing on a plastic blue square that read “Returns & Exchanges”.

I turned back to Elijah.

“Is this… it?”

“I know I know, everyone says we should make a museum for it or something. I see it as a Hollywood star, but I get why other people see it in a little bit more of a disrespectful light.”

“Yeah, I do too… and you got the name wrong.”

He rubbed his neck.

“What were they supposed to do?” He said, “Build two communities to keep the name plural?”

“Colorado Springs is plural.”

“Yeah, because they have springs, like… multiple springs, dude. I didn’t name the place-I wasn’t even born yet when it was made.”

“Did you have any meaningful civic role in the world before coming here? ‘It’s before my time, so it’s not my concern’ is not a very healthy mindset.”

“Will you go take a piss please?”

I smiled to myself as I walked away in the direction his hand waved. I strolled down past the right side of the desk to a walkway, suddenly constructed of that same blue drywall. They must have built this building around what was already standing, as there was a small, uncomfortable gap in the wall between where the random mess of materials ended, and the IKEA structure wall began.

I heard a door click open as I faced back forward. I saw the door swing widely, as the boy I’d recognized from his uncomfortably large eyes shot out of the room.

“I’m sorry, dude!” He said to someone. “It was just-… oh… hi.”

I think he might have just seen a body, and assumed I was somebody else.

“Hi,” I awkwardly replied. “Is that… the bathroom?”

I motioned to the door he had just exited.

“Yeah, um… sorry if it-… sorry.”

I winced a little.

“Hey, you’re… that new guy, aren’t you?” He asked.

This was currently the furthest I’d been forced into meeting someone new on my own. It immediately made me nauseous to picture how many times I might have to answer that same question.

“What are you talking about? I’ve been here for months, man.”

He began to nervously shiver.

“What, really?” He said. “I didn’t even… uh… I’m sorry, I just have staring problems, so I get in my head and mix up people’s faces. I’m sorry if we’ve talked before I just-“

“-Hey… I was like… totally joking.”

He STARED at me for what would have probably been forty-five minutes if I hadn’t side-stepped around him after ten silent seconds.

“Sorry, dude,” I said sincerely as I passed.

“Oh,” He said behind me. “It’s cool… but that was kinda… really really really embarrassing for me.”

I opened the bathroom door, considering just walking in and leaving him paddling.

“I can tell. I’m gonna… go to the bathroom now but……. try to ummm,” I began. “Try to stay strong about it.”

I closed the door behind me, immediately cringing at myself. That was such a painfully Elijah thing to say.

The boy had left the light on. The space was quite small, just a size up from an airplane bathroom. My wingspan would have exceeded its width. It seemed much cleaner than what I’d anticipated. There was a small sill next to the door with a stack of papers on it. Above the stack was an IKEA bathroom cleaning log (the same log that made up the pile of papers), thumbtacked to the wall. The column for “time-of-day” had been crossed out and replaced with full weekdays. The next column was filled with signed initials, crossed out down to the tenth row.

The eleventh row was a Wednesday.

CWM

Is it a Wednesday today?

There was a small post-it note plastered to the bottom right of the page.

Is this bathroom clean? If not, please tell Connor so that he can use the body of whoever’s turn it was as a mop.

I involuntarily exhaled slightly, before forcing my face straight. Nothing here is allowed to be funny.

I locked the door, and submitted to looking at myself in the cracked mirror. They can’t just go get a new one? Why would anything ever be broken here? I let the image of my face rest symmetrically on a slanted fault-line. I THINK… my condition has improved enough to reach escape velocity from its previous stratum. I would, arguably, no longer prefer to be dead. That’s a complicated declaration to confidently claim, but I feel its authenticity rearing its head.

I’ve recently adopted a guilty shame about the responsibility of this body. The world I’m living in is one that does not like the human body, but I still feel disappointed in myself for the hell that mine has been through. Honest to someone’s God… I’m scared about today. I’m scared of doing more damage to the body that’s fought through so much to keep me pumping. It doesn’t deserve any more of my stupidity and horrible decision making. It’s been so strong to protect the brain that keeps flippantly putting it in such perilous danger. The idea of trying to motivate myself in the mirror feels manipulative.

When did I decide to let myself agree to this? Does anyone remember? I had come to this depressing conclusion already, hadn’t I? I once knew that forcing myself to continue was a horribly cruel idea, but I’ve moved backwards somehow.

I continued staring for a while before my body reminded me of the reason I was in this room.

——————

I pissed out the entire Baltic Sea and closed my eyes. I could ignore it for now, but I knew that I was still incredibly tired. My energy was a barely flickering match in a pitch black aircraft hangar. I took a deep breath before fully absorbing the aroma that the boy had left in the room. I stifled my breath a little too fast and let out a slight cough.

A slight cough was enough to fill the air of the hangar with petrol vapor. The fit began as I placed my hand on the sill, prepared for a horrible episode.

—————

Twenty-eight hacks in total. Coincidence…

I breathed deep, ignoring the smell for the sake of my lungs. I had lived in a hole with a stench that made this room smell like roses. I zipped up my pants, standing up straight and composing myself.

BANG BANG BANG

I almost gasped into another fit as the door erupted in a pounding behind me. A voice screamed at me through it.

“SLIPS! I SWEAR TO GOD IT’S EVERYDAY WITH YOU NOW-I’LL START PISSING ON YOUR WELCOME MAT IF YOU CAN’T START TELLING TIME!”

I, sadly, remembered exactly whose voice that was. I spun around and practically sprinted over to the door, swinging it open and stepping out face to face with him. Sean stared at me as his face slowly crumpled into a snarl.

“You are definitely not who I thought was in there…”

I wondered how much R&E social credit I needed to afford saying whatever I wanted to him.

“Should’ve known when I saw your caretaker in the lobby-“

“-Do you need something?” I asked rudely.

“Is that a rhetorical question?” He returned. “Please leave before a conversation starts between us.”

Who the hell foreshadows a threat? That’s what the threat itself is for.

“It doesn’t look like you’re standing in a puddle,” I said. “You could have tried knocking softly. I didn’t even hear you jiggle the doorknob before you started screaming.”

Face of pure perplexity: Minus ten points.

“It’s my time slot, that means it’s my fucking bathroom,” He said. “You’re standing in my bathroom right now. Leave.”

Time slots? 129 people, I guess that makes sense with only one set of bathrooms. Maybe the dresser drawer is genuinely a preferable option.

Still though…

“I was going to leave anyway. You don’t need to be an impatient asshole.”

Sean stepped the only step closer he possibly could have without our noses touching. I didn’t move, but his voice changed my confidence’s tune a little.

“Let me ask you something,” He said. “Is this your thing? Am I going to have to prepare for this every time I see you? I just want to say right here and now, that shit’s gonna get old.”

Sean is 6’2” if I had to guess. Considerably less muscular than Roman, but everyone is. Sean is still built.

“If we’re going to have an issue together, let’s get it taken care of ahead of time,” He continued as I stood silent. “Because your self-defense is such goddamn overkill.”

If I had a nickel for every time someone used that term…

But do I have a thing? I personally think it saves a lot of future effort to just remind a person how I feel about them every time we speak.

“I would never feel the need to defend myself around you,” I hissed.

“YO!”

I turned up the hallway to see Elijah looking towards us.

“On a schedule, am I right?!” He demanded to me.

Goddammit, I’m kind of in the middle of something here. Now I’m gonna have to walk away silently after he says some snide bullshit. Something like-

Sean shoved me out of the way, stealing the doorknob from my palm.

“Just go blow off some steam, braveheart,” He said, closing the door behind him.

I blew my hair over my forehead and choked down the last word I didn’t get in. I walked over to Elijah.

“I didn’t ask you to rescue me,” I huffed.

“Rescue you? You two could fall over each other for hours,” He said. “I just didn’t want you getting distracted.”

Elijah was in spitting distance.

“I’m sure she’s already mad,” He continued. “I’m sort of tired of the complaint filing that revolves around your being.”

Don’t ask your mom to get a dog if you can’t take care of it.

“You’re the one that brought me here,” I said. “Could’ve pissed in the cell just fine.”

We began moving back to the entrance.

“Jesus, who used that word around you? Natalie? It’s not a cell, dude.”

He opened the door and walked out on his own without waiting for me like he usually does with doorways.

“I came up with the word myself,” I said as I walked outside. “Sorry if you’re a big fan of that room.”

He began walking in a direction I wasn’t familiar with as I moved to his side.

“You know,” He began. “Prison is supposed to be an educational reform to bring someone back into society better than they were before...”

I actually got goosebumps from how pretentious that statement was.

“Have you ever heard of the word ‘Kalopsia’?” I asked.

He turned to me.

“Can you walk behind me, not alongside me?”

I stared at him blankly for a moment, before slowing my pace. We stayed silent with each other for a moment as we walked.

——————

“Do you guys really know what day it is?” I asked.

“Do you?”

“I wasn’t asking to test you…”

He ticked his tongue a few times.

“We have someone who says they do,” He said. “We go by that.”

“… just… one guy? Out of 129 people?”

“130, and it’s a girl.”

“Please stop responding to my questions like that. I’m just gonna keep asking the question a second time.”

——————

“She decided what day it is,” He said. “How are we supposed to know if time is even moving parallel in here?”

“How does that affect someone who shows up with their own differing opinion of what day it is?”

He sighed.

“You should be an expert about where newcomer comfort lands on our priority list,” He said. “They can adjust. Time is time.”

That reminds me…

“How do the time slots work?” I said.

——————

“Let’s talk about this later, okay?” He said. “I want you to focus on the run.”

“Okay… because you don’t wanna talk about how you definitely know the time of Sean’s slot by heart, right?”

——————

“In his defense, you were really taking your time,” Elijah said.

“And you’re suddenly interested in his defense? Didn’t realize you two were such good friends,” I said somewhat mischievously. “Guess you warmed up to him a lot while I was locked up, huh?”

He scoffed.

“Anything is better than your moping.”

I let my lip curl a little, retracting my check. Empty life/empty bladder.

“By the way,” I said. “That kid’s government name isn’t actually ‘Slips’, is it?”

Elijah looked back to me, smirking a little.

“I wouldn’t recommend telling him any deep dark secrets. Let’s just say he didn’t look like you after his entrance interview.”

I will let Elijah be funny ONCE a day.

“Also,” He continued. “He is one slippery little bastard. He’s been circumscribed by fourteen staff at a time and escaped untouched.”

“He’s been WHAT by fourteen staff?!”

He glared at me as I smiled. I was allowed to be funny as many times as I wanted. He turned back forward with a cold shoulder.

“I’m putting you on an exposition time-out,” He said. “You can have whatever info you want when you learn to be mature.”

Keep throwing alley-oops…

“Maybe if you followed Margo’s advice of not using words you learned two minutes ago…”

——————

“The Pantry” was, in my novice architectural opinion, a quite unnecessary building. Just like Elijah said, there was an entire Café placed in the impossible sweet-spot proximity to the Returns & Exchanges counter. The perfect weather condition to support life in a lifeless plane. Still, this “building” seemed a strange allocation of resources just to put a ceiling and walls around a point of interest that didn’t really need them. The large space didn’t feel like it went very far, as a claustrophobic blanket of random materials had been placed haphazardly over its area. It was fine, but I hope this community is aware of the fact that they didn’t build the Café just because they drew a box around it.

The entrance came out to the dining area as Elijah guided me in. The two of us walked by a table with a thirty-something-man in a plaid T-shirt (not a short sleeve button-up, a plaid T-shirt. Who even makes those?).

He was reading a book titled “Calypso”.

“Still working on that, yoop?” Elijah said to him.

“You suddenly a sage example of speed-reading?” The man mumbled without looking up.

“That’s a little passive-aggressive…” Elijah replied as we passed.

The serving line was longer than the other cafés I had seen so far, as it kind of freakishly curled around and in on itself to the left side. The Great Destroyer was leaning against the queue counter by its opening.

“Where’d all the time go?” She said snarlingly.

“Do you know what day of the week it is?” I said to her.

Natalie looked at Elijah with a raised eyebrow.

“Explain the question I just got asked,” She said to him.

“Or you could just ignore him,” He said to her. “I know that’s not something fun for you to do, but I think it’s the sage option.”

Real person, by the way.

Natalie had just a moment of looking flustered before she pushed off the counter and stood up her-version-of-straight.

“Let’s make this quicker than everyone expects us to make it,” She said.

She confidently walked around the Dr. Seuss curve of the left side of the queue, as Elijah followed, swishing his head to beckon me along.

The three of us walked behind the counter, and through a gap of fridges to a back-room kitchen area. I was swept up by sensory overload the moment I entered. It smelled like a whirlwind of lemon and eucalyptus. Typical as it was on inspection, the lighting of the room felt so loud. Wrapped in a porcelain majesty, every appliance seemed to be as clean as if it had only just been materialized into thin air. Every marble counter was flooded with every as-seen-on-TV-esque utensil and device you could probably ever find. They couldn’t have all been from Earth. It was ginormous and… so clean. Back in my semi-clean three-bedroom, I avoided any x-second-rule for the principle of not feeling like a dog. I’d get right next to Kanata to eat off the floor of this kitchen. Rachael Ray would have stars in her eyes.

Natalie did not have stars in her eyes.

“Where the hell is Margo?” She said to Elijah.

Elijah looked around lazily for a couple seconds before looking back to her.

“I’m not sure, I can ask her though,” He said. “I just have to go find her first.”

Natalie had her hand around his arm by the time he was turned, pulling him back as he smiled.

“Seems a little irresponsible for you to not know your ‘buddy’s’ whereabouts,” I said.

Elijah’s smile disappeared instantly as he shot me a wide eyed threat. He sent me a “stop talking” swipe of his hand under his chin before Natalie crushed his dreams.

“Oh, Cody, thanks for reminding me,” She said. “Elijah…”

She thrust Elijah towards me as we stumbled over each other, both grabbing to the counter to keep from toppling.

“Meet your new partner,” She added as we recovered. “Surprise.”

Elijah’s eyes went about as wide as Slips’ could. He turned around to her, standing up again.

“Wait, what?” He said.

“It’s just a title, dude,” She said, crossing her arms. “You’re already spending more time with him than most people spend with theirs. Why not make it official?”

“Margo is already Elijah’s buddy,” I interrupted sarcastically.

She looked past a dumbfounded Elijah to squint at me.

“Did I ask you, Regis?” She spat. “Not anymore she’s not.”

Elijah’s jaw wavered up and down as he seemed to be having trouble forming a sentence.

“Well… what about her? What’s she supposed to do?” He asked.

The tone of Elijah’s voice made me realize that we weren’t just sarcastically joking with each other.

“Well, I’m not changing my position,” She said to him. “There’s not many other people around here that don’t currently have a partner…”

Elijah’s disbelief immediately turned to anger.

“No. Absolutely fucking not,” He growled.

“Excuse me?” She snapped sharply.

Elijah was curling his fist. This “hidden” side of him wasn’t much of a surprise to me anymore, but I still hadn’t seen it in a good number of days. I grew anxious as I saw it slipping into his face.

“There’s gotta be an alternative,” He said, a little more level. “There’s just no reason for the two of them to have to be shoved together-“

“-no reason? Is that a joke-Elijah, neither of them are a concern at the moment. This is about Cody,” She replied. “Right? I’m trying to do my best to professionally swallow this pill you’re force-feeding me. If you want me to meet you halfway, you’ve gotta be halfway-“

“-Yeah but that’s not me, that’s Margo. I don’t want her to have to be with him-“

“-Oh Elijah-for what?! You scared she’s gonna fuck him?!”

I genuinely felt like I had just been stabbed. I was so immediately horrified by the energy-shift between the two of them that I wanted to dash out of the room. It’s strange. With each of them separated on their own, neither felt threatening to me anymore. Not really. You kind of get used to their brand of intimidation and manipulation by the second or third round, but when they’re together…

Natalie had begun smiling sadistically. It was unbelievably threatening.

“Say that again,” Elijah said.

“A little louder this time?” She said venomously.

“Hey…” I said warily.

I hadn’t even meant to, it was a totally reflexive exclamation. They both turned back to me with faces that made me sea-sick, before my body was thrown gracefully ashore with the sound of footsteps.

We all turned as a tan boy with long, curly-black hair walked into the kitchen. He stopped and looked around at the three of us nervously.

“Alright,” He said. “Before you do anything crazy, ask yourselves if you really know what beef is…”

Elijah stayed on guard, but Natalie sighed, and visually shook herself out of the tension.

“Nikko,” She said. “Why were neither of you in here?”

“What?” The boy, Nikko, replied. “Margo‘s here.”

“Oh yeah?” Natalie said. “Is she hiding in the icebox? I didn’t remember to look for her in there.”

He looked confused.

“Well Allen is here, also I-… wait are you messin’ with me or have you actually not checked in there yet?”

Natalie rubbed her face in both hands as she spoke through her circling palms.

“Nikko, you can’t leave this kitchen unattended,” She said as her hands slipped from her face. “Twice in one month is far too frequent of a happening. It’s a bad look for The Pantry and, to me, a pretty bad reflection of your faculty for responsibility. I’m perfectly fine moving you somewhere else.”

She blew a bang away from her eye as I lost interest in the stranger completely. I really liked it when she got more articulate. It felt so surprisingly intrinsic from her tongue.

“But since you’re here,” She continued to him. “You can explain to Cody what we need.”

I kind of flinched, jumping out of my shallow daze as she waved her hand to me again. Nikko looked over to me.

“Right,” He said begrudgingly. “Not like I was doing anything…”

“Yeah,” She said. “I know you weren’t, because you better have not been breezing in here for what I think you were at 10:17 AM.”

I saw his face flush a little at whatever that statement implied.

“Maybe if it was your morning, I would’ve thought you were just popping in and out like a tardy asshole,” She said.

“I was… just coming in here to tell Margo something-“

“-Like fucking what?!” Elijah yelled.

“ELIJAH!” Natalie stomped. “What is wrong with you?! Stop!”

Elijah sunk into silence as he leaned against the counter. Natalie slowly turned away from him back to Nikko.

“Train, please,” She said to Nikko.

A typical interaction between me and Natalie was usually quite vitriolic, so I tended to look at her as an all around vitriolic person. The more time I’ve spent here though, the more I’ve seen her trying to talk herself down from aggravated edges. That’s not to say she was good at it, just that she tried.

Nikko sighed as he walked towards me.

“Help me out with something, will ya?” He said as he passed me.

I looked towards Natalie for approval.

“Today, asshole,” She said.

Heard, Chef.

“Uh, sure,” I said to Nikko, as I followed him around a counter and to the back of the kitchen.

He led me to a large closet with giant shuttered doors. He jiggled the fold aggressively until I heard the door snap back onto its track and slide open. He walked into a dark room, turning to his left and smacking a switch. It illuminated a room full of fridges… like, genuinely full of fridges.

“Alright,” He sighed. “Be honest, you want me to go get Roman?”

I croaked a little, keeping down a sudden urge to cough.

“I… don’t even know what you’re doing,” I replied.

“WE… are gonna move these fridges out of the way. Come get this side.”

He walked up to a smudged, dented fridge that had long since lost the shine of the appliances in the other room. I stared at him blankly. He looked back to me after I had been silent for a moment. He groaned and walked back towards me.

“Sorry, dude. I know she said it but… I’m Nikko.”

He put his fist out as I looked at it nervously.

“Don’t be a bitch,” He added. “It’s nice to meet you.”

I looked back up to his eyes as I fist-bumped him weakly.

“Cody.”

He nodded.

“What made you wanna do this stupid shit?”

I shrugged.

“I didn’t totally volunteer…”

“Mmmm,” He nodded. “Community service?”

“Uhh I’d say closer to drafting from death row.”

He rolled his eyes and walked back towards the same fridge.

“That sounds the slightest bit dramatic to me,” He said.

BANG

We both turned as we heard something metal being slammed, or punched, in the kitchen.

“GODDAMMIT LISTEN!” I heard Elijah scream.

I turned to run out of the closet.

“Ah beh beh beh beh,” Nikko called. “Highly recommend whatever is the antonym of you trying to get in the middle of that.”

I vacillated in place for a moment, feeling desperate to do something.

“Doubt that anything you say is gonna simmer down either of them,” He added. “You could try it out on me if you want. I’ll give you my opinion on what its level of effectiveness would be.”

I moved away from the door a little, back towards him.

“I’m… not feeling very clever right now anyway.”

He smiled.

“Good, I’d much rather you feel motivated to grab the other end of this fridge.”

I walked over to it awkwardly.

“Are they… both always like this?” I asked as I stood across from him. “Like, eternally?”

“Um, with each other? Basically. Only one of them is consistently like that in separation though. I bet it’s not the one you’d think, either.”

I winced slightly.

“Actually, I uh… I think I know,” I said.

He popped his eyebrows up and down to tell me that I was right.

“Let’s just trade off. Pull towards the door,” He said.

I nodded and got a good grip on the cold front and back of the fridge, my right hand latching in the grooves of the back vent. He groaned and took a noisy scraping pull on his side. I steadied myself, and tried to pretend I hadn’t just realized this was a bad idea for me. I sunk the effort into my left side, and held my breath until my half of the fridge had mostly reached the same distance as his. I let out two slight coughs into my arm and breathed slow and deep.

Nikko gave me a strange look.

“Roman?” He asked.

I waved my hand.

“Fuck Roman,” I declined.

Nikko smiled a little, before it turned into a grimace with him moving his other half.

“Why does he get like that anyway?” I said.

“Roman?”

“Elijah,” I corrected, as I squared my body for the second pull.

“Ask Margo that question,” He said. “Not me.”

I strained through, taking light puffs instead of holding through the tear.

“Okkkaaayyy,” I said, almost suffocating myself with that extended word. “Thought the guy that told me not to be a bitch would be more open to conversation-“

“-I’m not being rude. I’ll answer anything else you wanna ask… something else. Not anything.”

He walked away from the fridge, smacking his hand on the side of another to call me to his aid.

“Can we start with why you guys have a room full of fridges?” I said.

I took my previous form again on the second fridge.

“They uhhh… kinda just keep showing up,” He said.

He grunted and pulled from his side.

“Showing up? From where?”

“What kinda question is that dude? You gettin’ logistical about anything that happens in this place?”

“Nononono, I mean like… when you say ‘showing up’, I don’t think you mean that they’re being hand delivered, right? You said they keep showing up here. I just thought that this room was like this when you guys got here.”

He stretched the arch of his back and dusted his hands.

“It was like this when I got here,” He said. “There’s a fridge out there that keeps… replacing itse-… or um… how do I say it-there’s a spot out there where a fridge should obviously go, and a fridge is usually there. Usually there, usually working, usually running like… normal. Totally normal. It’s just that every once in a while, totally arbitrarily-“

“-huh?-“

“-Another one just appears. But… in the same spot the old one is already in.”

“What does that word y-… wait, what?”

He nodded slowly to confirm I heard him right.

“You mean… exact same spot…” I said.

“Exact same spot, exact same fridge, and, whatever is putting it there, it’s trying to put it there at the exact same time. Don’t know how to describe what happens to the old one other than… zoooom.”

He airplanes his hand through the air lazily as I sit in disbelief.

“That sounds…” I began. “Like a Final Destination level of ridiculous comic danger.”

“It sounds exactly like it is.”

I sort of giggled morbidly at the thought of that even happening. Seeing whatever other biblically-accurate anomaly this place had to offer had not made my threshold of wonder any lower. Seeing that up close must be so…

“Anyone ever gotten hit by one?” I asked.

He tilted his head back and forth.

“Yeah. Me.”

I ticked my tongue in a very “bullshit” kind of way. He raised his eyebrows.

“You think I’m lying?”

“I think you’d be dead,” I said. “Unless it isn’t as ridiculous as you’re making it sound aaannnddd you’re just telling me fairy tales-“

“-Fairy tales?!-I’ll give you a fucking tail.”

Nikko turned around, lifting the back of his shirt to show me his bare skin.

“Jesus Christ, dude!”

My outburst was completely genuine. There was a giant, slanting, bubbly valley of a gash that stretched from the small of his back to the center of his left shoulder-blade.

“What the fuck is that?!” I tacked on.

“That’s the body make-up I wore on the set of Final Destination 3.”

Stars had truly found their way to my eyes. I almost felt the same as when I was looking at Natalie.

“Can I… touch it?” I asked.

“What?! Hell no, dude-What kinda freak shit is that?”

“Nikko, that is easily the coolest scar I have ever seen in my life.”

He let his shirt drop back down over his spine as I whined.

“Yeah, thanks,” He said lethargically. “Can you pull the rest of your side, please?”

“How’d it happen? I mean I know how it happened but… what was it like? The moment, I mean…”

Nikko was giving me a worried look that I was very familiar with. I felt the smile on my face slowly shrinking in its proximity. He noticed.

“I was knelt down on the floor, thank God,” He began. “I think I was picking up a strawberry or something-I don’t even remember. I just know I was down there when I heard this-… it isn’t like a bang it’s like a uhhh… you ever heard lightning? Like lightning striking so close that you hear the actual current? That’s what it was like. I think I’d actually been on my way to beginning to stand. I just blinked and my face was on the ground. Sandra was surprised it didn’t wring my neck into silly putty. I’m surprised it didn’t barrel right through me. Take off the left side of my torso completely or… something…”

I was trying so hard not to smile. It probably wasn’t hard enough as he glared at me.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “That is just awesome. It was awesome, right?”

“Sure, after all the blood loss? It was fuckin’ tubular.”

I backed off that line of questioning and steadied myself to the fridge. I scrunched myself in, and tried to make the pull, but immediately choked. I stood up, backed away and began coughing into my arm. Out of my peripheral, I saw Nikko running up to me. I quickly threw my other hand out to keep him away. I slowly breathed and recovered. I closed my eyes and felt my lungs expanding and retracting as gently as I could operate.

In the blackness of my eyelids, I heard the scraping of the fridge. I opened them to see Nikko standing up from what used to be my side of it. He turned around to me, stretching his back again.

“Are you gonna collapse the second you step outside?” He asked.

I shook my head.

“No, I’m good.”

He nodded his head.

“… well, I’m not gonna flat out say that I don’t believe you, I’ll just say that it was nice knowing you for these ten minutes.”

“Did you just say it’s been ten-“

“-NIKKO!” Natalie screamed from the kitchen.

“WE’RE COMING!” He screamed back.

I knit my eyebrows as he walked away through the space we had made. I followed him over.

“Alright,” He said. “This is really all you’re gonna need.”

He placed his hands upon the dirty railing of a dolly cart that was wedged in the mess of appliances towards the back of the room. It had what must have been at least sixty random Tupperware containers stacked into and over each other on its bed. There was also a large opaque storage bin.

“Is this what Patrick used?” I asked.

Nikko whirled around his head and gave me a dirty look.

“You typically name-drop the dead that casually?”

The bones of the fallen and all that, but that seemed like an overly-sensitive question.

“Well,” I said. “I feel like I’m in a makeshift mortuary right now, so I guess I lost touch with my subtly.”

He noticeably shivered.

“Not funny, but… morbidly interesting idea,” He said sarcastically. “I’ll run it by Vernon.”

I smiled in thanks.

“Anyway,” He said, as he jiggled the cart out into the open space. “Just sweep any fridge they have with the big bin, pack everything else in Tupperware and stack them over the drinks in there. Fifty gallons. Should have no problem cleaning house. Lot of these containers won’t be big enough for a whole tray of whatever is over there, so if you run out of space just start shoving things in with each other. Make it a little sensible when you do. Hot with hot, cold with cold, room temp with room temp.”

“You… want me to just mix it all?”

“I want you to get whatever you’re able to get, which should be everything.”

“It’s gonna be a gross fucking mess. Especially in these dusty ass containers.”

“That’s what Margo and I are here for. You get the shit, we’ll make it look pretty. Deal?”

I’ve gone over this thought process before, but painting this exchange with as much simplicity as Nikko was painting it with was worrying to me. It needed to be explained to me why someone couldn’t have done this long before I got here.

Yeah, you want a hot towel with that too?

“I… okay, sure I guess.”

“Sick, sounds like we’re completely on the same page. Get out of this room before your girl comes in here and gives me a second Grand Canyon on my back.”

He walked away towards the door.

“Don’t… call her my g-…ugh…” I mumbled to myself.

——————

I followed Nikko, pulling the cart along behind me. I kept spinning around because I couldn’t decide if I should push it facing forward or pull it looking backwards.

Natalie turned around as she saw us.

“You think you’ve got an immunity idol this week, Nikko? Why are you smiling?” She said.

Nikko rubbed the smile off of his face with his palm.

“He’s here. He’s ready,” Nikko said. “You’re cool to spend the rest of your morning getting mad at him.”

“Heh,” Elijah chuckled. “She already spent her day’s worth on someone else-“

“-Get ready to have a serious issue if you say anything else,” She said to Elijah. “Can we be out the door? Now?”

She stared at my stupid face.

“Why are you asking me a question?” I said. “I’m a lot more comfortable when you’re confidently ordering me around.”

She ground her teeth together, probably imagining my throat between them.

“Door. Gate. Run. Food. Now.”

Elijah’s behavior alone was truthfully scaring me, and I realized I did not want to be an accomplice to Natalie’s headache anymore. At least for the rest of the morning.

“Just food?” I replied to her. “You don’t need anything else?”

“You looking for extra credit or something? Food-“

“-Food, yeah, I can get the food. I was just asking. I’m surprised you guys even have toilet paper.”

“We can swap it for blankets and a pair of scissors if we run out,” She said.

It isn’t fair for her to say something funny.

“Sounds like it would be clogged a lot,” I said, trying to let her know that I was in on her obvious joke.

“Not a chance,” Nikko said. “Pipes are like a Delta P in these bathrooms-“

“-Delta pee,” I whispered.

“Alright, that’s the cue that this is taking way longer than already way too long,” Natalie said, turning to the door. “Just food, Cody.”

“Okay……” I said, before thinking like a dumbass. “You sure you don’t want me to add a new mirror to that grocery list for you?”

She spun around, face red.

“What the fuck did you just say to me?!”

I quickly realized what that sounded like without context, and my tone hadn’t helped.

“The b-… the mirror, the bathroom mirror. The broken one… you want… do you want me to get a new one?”

She looked even angrier for a second, before her mind visibly shifted somewhere else. She seemed to become distant for a moment.

“Natalie?” I asked.

Her anger shot back to the forefront as immediately as my lips had finished writing that word. Though she had submitted to telling me her name, I could easily see that she hated the sound of it coming out of my mouth. Still, she visibly calmed herself.

“Nikko,” She said while still staring me down. “Please stay here until lunch. I’ll go find where Margo is-“

“-Hey,” Elijah interrupted. “I can find her myself. How about I go look for her, and you can take Cody to the-…”

Elijah went silent and pale as Natalie strode over and towered above him, staring at the side of his face.

Fully straight. A real straight. Taller than him.

“Elijah, you’re being insubordinate. You are going to knock that shit off. Now.”

Nikko and I stood there silently as Elijah visually cowered into obedience. She backed away slowly, still staring daggers into his side.

Finally, she turned back to me.

“I’m gonna manifest you sounding like less of an idiot today. Try to start thinking about a sentence before you say it.”

She began to walk out of the room, speaking to Elijah and I.

“If Cody is not outside of that gate in the next ten minutes, you’re both gonna need Roman to protect you.”

She exited as Elijah stood there angrily silent. His social resemblance to her was bleeding its hand like crazy.

And as I watched him nervously, I saw it just…

“Eh,” He sighed as he looked to me and smiled. “I’ll find Margo later. She’s probably off polishing her Jane Eyre impression or something. You ready?”

I had a lot of alarm bells going off in my head, all of them telling me that it was not a good idea to be around this person. While I didn’t disagree with them, I did think they were being a little dramatic.

“Um,” I began. “Can I get like… some peanut butter crackers or something first?”

“Hang on,” Nikko said beside me, as he walked over to a cabinet.

“He’s fine, Nikko.” Elijah interrupted sharply.

Nikko and I both stared at him, as I realized that it was very important for me to take some initiative.

“Yeah,” I said as quickly as I could. “I was just kidding.”

I looked towards Nikko.

“Thank you, though.”

He nodded, eyes wishing me good luck.

“Sure, no problem,” He said.

Thanks, I’ll need it.

I turned back to Elijah.

“Human meat as I’ll ever be...”

——————

Elijah and I walked silently through town, the only sound between us being the wheels of the dolly cart, skidding on the commercial epoxy. I pushed from behind, keeping a slow pace to not hit Elijah’s ankles. I had sprung to the orientation of keeping the cart between the two of us. It gave me a sense of security that I was sure I didn’t need, but enjoyed nonetheless.

As much as my resentment had flourished for him this past week, my choice of silence towards Elijah was not solely based on my current unease in his presence. Truthfully, I was trying my best to avoid bringing up his interaction with Natalie. I was worried that any conversation between us would lead to it somehow, and I didn’t want him to have to talk about it. It would be such an easy leg up in our childish seesawing, and I, regrettably, felt a little bad for him.

Even though I couldn’t exactly explain why…

“Hey,” He began unprompted. “Are you giving me the silent treatment again?”

Even responding to that question felt like a minefield.

“No… I’m just nervous. Lost in my head…”

I was trying to lie to him about being nervous at all, but I think I had made it sound like I was nervous to be around him.

He nodded without turning to me.

“For sure, you’ve got a lot to be thinking about,” He said, rubbing his head. “Well, I won’t give you anymore.”

I cringed, but resisted feeding into his company-starved misery, the same way I had fizzled out before further toying with Natalie’s knee-high-to-a-grasshopper-fuse. I wasn’t nervous about anything, and I wasn’t scared of Elijah. I simply didn’t have the drive to offer any kind of trivial discourse to him while he was clearly teetering.

I needed to remember that most everyone here was probably looking for someone to trigger their “you know what? Fuck it” tripwire.

Plus, I had already spent my vitriol on Sean this morning. Maybe it was unnecessary, but I felt good about that encounter. Sean had thought I was Slips when I was in the bathroom, and the barbaric harshness that I had heard in his voice made me ridiculously unhappy. The thought of Slips opening the door to him and slinking away in fear while Sean continued to assert his dominance… it was driving me up a wall.

This place breeds an easy irritability. Maybe I should recognize that in myself more, but personally, I’m not taking that as a valid excuse for anyone deserving my sympathy. That’s just as true for Sean as it is for Natalie and the boy walking in front of me.

“Hey,” He said. “I don’t know what Natalie said to you, but I’d definitely prefer it if you didn’t die out there.”

Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

I didn’t care if he was lying or not. I felt nothing for it either way. Apparently he’d been silently begging for me to bring up Natalie in some way, shape or form.

“Her concern, or lack thereof, is more important to me than yours,” I said to him rudely.

“Pfff, could’ve figured that out myself, Fabio…” He mumbled.

He didn’t turn around to see the anger spread across my face.

“Anyway,” He continued for some fucking reason. “I just want to make sure you’re okay to venture out again. Your wounds do look a lot better.”

“They are,” I answered shortly, feeling like I was trying to get out of a nagging conversation with my parents as fast as possible.

It seemed to work for a small little moment.

“That’s good,” He said. “You should be able to take physical care of yourself out there, if making this trek doesn’t reopen anything.”

“I thought you didn’t want to give me anything extra to think about.”

“I don’t. I’m just…” He began. “I guess I’m only bringing it up because you’re going to be walking a lot, and I haven’t seen the wound on your left foot in a while.”

——————

“What?” I said, considering whether or not I should feign obliviousness.

“The giant gash on the bottom of your left foot… the one that you already had when you got here… ringing a bell?”

I didn’t answer.

“There were regular bandages on it,” He continued. “Not sure where you found those in here, but I’m assuming that’s because you didn’t find them here.”

What do you want?

“You remember what you did to get that injury?”

He turned around slowly as I brought the cart to a halt, and we both stood motionless.

“I definitely don’t remember showing up here barefoot,” I said.

He smiled.

“Well, I’ve learned not to put too much trust in your memory,” He said, smiling.

He turned around and began walking again.

I felt like I just gave a confession, but I didn’t know why the incident would mean anything to him. I assumed he was picturing something much bigger than the cage match of me and a piece of furniture, but I was still confused about his desire to get it out of me.

I nervously followed him, as the sound of the cart began to buzz again.

——————

I found myself back in the vestibule of Hell, as the giant gate loomed ahead of me. I stared up at it helplessly, kind of hoping it would magically break off its hinges and crush me to death before I had to go through any more trouble.

The power couple, Tim and Carolette, had appeared to take up a post by the handles. I continued staring up in a daze, paying them no mind.

“We can… start whenever his high wears off,” Tim said to what I assumed was Elijah.

“Super!” Elijah said, walking past my side. “He’s as sober as a straightedge!”

By now, I’d learned to only daydream in shallow waters. Elijah’s voice had rudely shocked me back down to earth. I looked towards Tim and Carolette as Elijah joined them in front of the handles.

“Just to put it out there,” Carolette began. “I’m not going dainty on you or anything, but I wouldn’t mind him taking my spot.”

She motioned to me.

“You know, if we’re gonna be doing this everyday now,” She added.

Elijah shook his head.

“I’d like to conserve at least some of his energy if possible,” He replied. “It seems unavoidable that he’s going to be spending a lot of it arguing with me everyday.”

She rolled her eyes.

“I know the feeling,” She said.

Tim’s face shrunk in confusion.

“You… you do?” He said. “Since when?”

“Alright,” Elijah said. “I got told he needs to have been gone like two minutes ago. Let’s kick him out. Is Sean here?”

“It’s a little too calm for Sean to be here,” Tim said. “Don’t you think?”

Elijah nodded in agreement.

“Hey, you guys um…” He said awkwardly. “You haven’t seen Margo yet today, have you?”

Carolette shook her head nervously.

“I thought Nikko was standing in so you two could bring him here together?” She said.

“Sooooo did I,” Elijah replied.

He stared into space for a moment, before shaking his head.

“Whatever, let’s go.”

The two of them nodded to him, and all three of them moved to the handles. Tim lifted the giant bar up and to the side, as Elijah took one hook. Carolette took the other as Tim ran to join her.

I watched silently, as the three of them slowly heaved the door open. There was no real Roman-esque powerhouse amongst the three of them, so it took them about a full minute to get the gate to a reasonably opened sliver. I felt the dolly cart jiggling from the vibrations of the floor. Even with due credit to my current condition, watching them made me embarrassed about my inability to pull one side of a fridge earlier today.

Finally, the three of them gasped, catching their breath as they backed away from the door.

“Mercy,” Elijah said in exasperated huffs before looking at me. “You wanna see if you can find me any Grapes of Luxury out there? We deserve to have a servant feed them to us after that… doesn’t have to be you.”

I glared at him for a moment as his smile kept itself anchored. I began pushing the cart through the slit that was made, breezing past Tim and Carolette as well. I didn’t exactly want to treat them with the same disregard, but since they were obviously friends with Elijah, they were as guilty by association as was necessary to forgive myself.

That being said, my ignorant energy was snuffed out quite quickly as my head spun in the wake of the wilderness. I had been pumping myself up for it this entire time, but of course it didn’t help when I was actually standing on the edge of it again. My bladder felt suddenly full.

I heard Elijah thanking the two behind me as they reciprocated. His footsteps followed me outside of the gate, and I felt his presence standing behind my right side. We hung in silence for a moment as I stared forward.

——————

“You know,” He said. “I see it from up there like every other day, but standing in front of it is always different.”

I stayed silent.

——————

I felt his finger tapping my right shoulder. I turned around angrily.

“What?” I hissed through my teeth.

He pouted slightly, his right arm hiding behind his back.

“You’re so mean,” He said like a schoolgirl, the same thing he was currently posing to look like. “I got a present for you.”

He pulled his right arm out from behind his back, and revealed that his hand was holding my notebook, noticeably stained in my now dried blood. I stared at it for a second, before my gaze drifted slowly back up to his face.

“I uhhh…” He began. “I knew that Natalie would probably want to permanently confiscate it when she found it on you, so the night you came back I just… borrowed it… for its protection.”

I think I felt my mouth slowly parting in a dumbfounded gape.

“How’s that for insubordination?” He added.

Seeing the notebook was truthfully more exciting to me than I’d like to admit, but…

“Where were you keeping that this whole morning?” I said.

“In safe hands… in a safe place anyway.”

A reflexive jolt shot through me as I snatched it out of his hand roughly. I felt like I had gone slightly feral for a moment.

“I didn’t read it, in case you were wondering,” He said.

“I wasn’t, because I know you did.”

He frowned.

“Okay,” He said. “Honest to God truth, I read like one corny line of it before I realized it was obviously personal. I shoved it closed right away. I promise.”

I… sort of believed him, but even one line was more than I was really comfortable with.

“What um… what was it about?” I mumbled.

He scratched his head.

“Uhhh, it’s hard to say without context but… I think it was just some weird fever dream you were having,” He said. “Something about an ocean maybe.”

I didn’t really remember that, but I wouldn’t tell him if I did. I generally don’t write down my dreams.

“It’s not a dream journal,” I said.

“Yeah, doesn’t seem like it would be. Maybe you were just daydreaming about someone.”

I scowled.

“Do you have my phone?”

“Uhh, not on my person.”

“Then please get the fuck away from me.”

I turned around, placing the notebook on the bed of the dolly cart, and my hands back on the railing.

“I don’t know if she told you, but Carolette’s a writer,” He said. “There’s actually a notebook she just like that in the library from her. She’d probably love to talk to you about it. Again, not the best authority of quality literature, but I think it’s some pretty strong shit.”

“… good for her,” I said more to myself than to him.

I heard him chuckle a little, as his footsteps strolled away from me again.

“Alright then, lonely,” He said. “Have whatever you want to eat or drink when you get there. It should be Brunch-ish. I’ll still get you something substantial for dinner later, but you’ve earned a self-portioned meal.”

Didn’t need your permission.

I waited for the sound of the massive scraping gate to begin.

“Oh, and Jebediah?” Elijah called out in a southern accent that I absolutely refused to turn around for. “You remember that you’re coming back, right? This isn’t another exile, there’s a lot of people counting on you… me being one of them.”

I waved the farmgirl my favorite small appendage and began rolling away with the cart. Soon after, the sliding wheels were silenced by the colossal groan of the sealing entrance.

As I heard it latching closed, I froze, and immediately regretted not bullying the ever living shit out of Elijah.

——————

I’m surprised I’m even speaking to you again.

Before today, the last thing cataloged here was before I’d even fallen into the warehouse. I spent so much time down there thinking about this notebook sitting on my dead-body, with the last notable entry being about my perseverance to start living again.

I don’t care how dead “dead” is, that would have to have been enough embarrassment to never let my soul cross the River Styx.

I’m pulled over on the side of the road right now. I was trying to catch up the record on foot, but I kept getting distracted and forgetting the details of what I was trying to recount. You know how some people can’t walk and talk? Well, I can’t walk and write. I really don’t want to keep being dramatic about it either, but a little too much of my mental capacity is still being spent on simple motor-skills. I’m just having some trouble focusing.

It’s almost like there’s something else I’m supposed to be focusing on right now…

——————

I had begun walking again, a little too long after the gate had finished closing. Anger pulled my feet as I couldn’t believe I was sent out without at least one water bottle to start me off. Unfortunately, I knew I could make it there without it. I began slowly crawling into the endless network.

I watched the first clock as it passed on my left.

10:39 AM.

I discovered a negligible, but existent nonetheless, new calm wash onto me. I did know I wasn’t being exiled. I had a place to return to. A place that, in some backwards sense, I belonged. I was just going for a very purposeful walk. Alone time. That’s all it was. Well, maybe without the knowledge of experiences I’ve had in the past. I wasn’t in love with the idea of staying in one spot for any considerable amount of time, but the first thing on my mind was almost immediately to create an opportunity for myself to stop and write.

I didn’t look back, but I was sure that one or more of them were watching me from the observation deck. After traveling a somewhat considerable distance, I started weaving myself into avenues without being too obvious about avoiding their line of sight. The reliable muscle memory of my one paramount movement was remaining steady. I didn’t feel like I was going to fulfill everybody’s less-than-satirical assumption of my collapse. I even began to feel like I was getting some figurative fresh air. My depression had really pulled a hat-trick of proficiency when I was locked in that dark room for so many consecutive days. The visitation certainly hadn’t been helping. My brain was working a little more reasonably out in the open, washing out the blue color that had been splattering all over it for the past week.

I knew the general location of the Café, and if ever I felt I was losing my way, a bookshelf climb would set me back off in the right direction. I began making the distance needed to hide myself from the view of the observation deck.

I looked up at the fake sky, ready to make the best of my first “real” day under it.

——————

Feel free to set a timer of how long that optimism will last.

——————

After feeling like I was successfully off the radar, I had found a nice little egg swing to bunker down in and write. The model patio reminded me of a much more cliché version of the backyard patio that Chandler’s parents had. I used to go there after school every Friday, sometimes even without him or Toby. It was a good place to get work done, and his parents used to like me.

I sat down like the ignorant little kid that the space had taken me back to being, and let myself be hypnotized.

I was muttering to myself like a goblin the entire time, going through a halfway trauma of the emotions I’ve had the past week or so. I wrote about the abyssal ghastliness of The Warehouse. I wrote about making peace as the Staff member had stood over me by the couch. I wrote about the pit of pitch black radiation that slowly sucked the lifeblood out of those seven. I wrote about the dead-horse attrition of Wyatt’s skull. I wrote about the sound of Anne Marie’s neck snapping. I wrote about Anthony’s eternal scream that I’ve been hearing every time I close my eyes. I wrote about my attempt to sacrifice Kanata. I wrote about the corpulent mass of what I thought was Elizabeth’s untimely corpse in my arms. I wrote about Abel.

I wrote about Nick.

I wrote about the uncomfortable burden that still being alive had colored itself to be for a while there...

I kept expecting to chronicle the sequence of my own death somewhere in between the events, and I even began laughing a little at how outlandish it all was. Did I really do all that? How am I alive right now? It seemed ridiculous that all of it had happened, but more ridiculous that after it all… I was just sitting here. Like I should have a goddamn lemonade in my hand or something. Sitting here on this fake patio, writing in this stupid notebook. For what, my own sanity? I mean, does this get old?

Traumatic situation arises, I make some jokes because I’m ignorant to the consequences of reality, but afterwards, I’m human and recognize my own mistakes, that’s why I keep making them and keep hurting people, which I’m ignorant to, but sometimes I’m not, and sometimes I have a humane revelation of my care for other people, and that makes all the other times okay… wanna hear me make a joke about that?

That’s stupidity, right? It’s stupid for me to be making jokes with every asshole in R&E while there’s so many thousands of dead bodies floating around in this place’s stomach.

Stupid isn’t a good word, disrespectful is better.

This journal is so fucking disrespectful.

——————

I finished writing what I felt was sufficient enough to help you feel caught up again, but not enough to be out here for too long. Well, that was the goal anyway...

I looked at the clock next to me and immediately cursed as if I had woken up late for my first day at work.

11:53 AM.

“Jesus H. Bleeding CHRIST!”

I’d sat there for over an hour?! How?!

I ran back to the cart where I had parked it outside, groaning as I felt my back being slightly thrown out. I began speed-walking. I had been prepared to run if need-be today, but was well aware of the fact that any genuine need to run would probably have just been the end of me. I felt winded in just seventeen seconds as I slowed my pace, holding in the cough. I took small sharp breaths until I trusted myself to slowly inhale and exhale again.

Elijah was talking to me about brunch. Surely they didn’t expect me to be back in just a few hours, but I had burned so much time lying completely motionless. Maybe that mattered, but when all of them were expecting me to crumple to my death at any moment, the timeline for my return was likely more lenient than I was making it out to be.

I shouldn’t be pushing myself…

My imagination of running from something made me realize that I didn’t have the pole with me anymore. I hoped they hadn’t scrapped it to turn it into a support beam or something. It had a somewhat emotional value to me that I hadn’t signed up for, but knew I would be somewhat sad to lose. It was more just about the comfort of having it, but again, here’s to hoping I didn’t need it for anything. I would hope I don’t have ANY encounters in the ominous daylight.

Really, I just needed to make sure I didn’t meet any more staircases.

——————

11:58 PM.

I opened a closet in a faux mudroom. There was a really nice backpack on a hook in it, SwissGear (not sponsored). It was pretty big, the kind an adult would bring to an office, saying they prefer it to a briefcase for their commute. I had always tried to not bring work home with me (in a literal sense anyway), so I usually never used either. I was only ever carrying my lunch, and that was never big enough that I needed, I don’t know, a dolly cart to wheel it into my room.

I took the empty backpack and slung it over my shoulder. There was a flashlight sitting on a high shelf. I clicked it on to see that it shined like the battery had never been touched. I assumed it probably hadn’t if it had just materialized here from nothing. I zipped it up in the main compartment, and zipped up the notebook in the safer small one. The rest was just coats. I was sure I hadn’t yet appreciated this place for the paradise it could be for changing my musty attire, but I would rather save that for another trip. I mentally promised myself a makeover day when I felt a little better.

Apprehensive as I was in this open abyss, I kept wanting to stop and investigate everything I walked by. After the ice-bath dive of getting myself out here, my only option to calm my stress was to try and cherish how cool the randomly generated homeliness was. However, remembering the time I was supposed to be keeping kept my childlike wonder on an unappreciative leash.

I realized that if I returned today with the facade of focusing on the mission the entire time, they would expect that hour to factor into the time I needed to complete a run. That meant, if I pretended to always be on my best behavior, I could have an hour to do whatever I wanted everyday.

Just have to… figure out what that is.

——————

12:38 PM.

I hummed a little Kid Cudi. I accidentally started thinking about my mom. I realized how I never got the chance to watch True Detective, and now I’ll never know if McConaughey deserved the Academy award or not. I realized I should have settled for spoiled milk that morning (Or, if I had just clipped someone’s mailbox on the way to Five Guys, I could probably be having a pretty relaxing time at home right now). I felt kind of horny, but not enough to feel like stopping again. I thought about Hannah.

I stopped thinking about Hannah.

I thought about the Encyclopedia Britannica. If I ever ended up back in the real world somehow, I would see who I could talk to about getting an Encyclopedia IKEA published (Emphasis would be on the I there. “Encyclopedia I-kee-a” (Also, remember when I was sounding out IKEA’n? I think rather than I-Kee-ya-en, or even I-Kee-an, it would be I-Kin-Nee-en. I know that’s adding a letter that isn’t in the word, but it’s the only way for it to not sound awkward. Places with names that don’t work for demonyms would normally just make a relatively close word anyway, so I think it works (Did you know people from Glasgow are called Glaswegians? They know the North Sea still exists, right?))).

I stopped thinking about the Encyclopedia Britannica.

——————

Have I ever said IKEA’n?

——————

Sorry. It’s easy to record events from experiences in R&E, but I’m a little out of my groove when it comes to projecting my stream of consciousness. Also, in case I didn’t make it clear earlier, this concept of keeping you informed of what I’m doing with this journal has started making me sick to my stomach. I’m a little nauseous regardless. I’ve been looking straight forward for so long that my brain is playing tricks on me, and my vision is tilting the floor. Like the entire IKEA is lopsided. It would be funny if it wasn’t an eye trick, and the whole complex was doing an Inception tilt. What would happen if everything went vertical and I fell from the side? I guess I would be falling forever, at least until I starve to death midair. Does terminal velocity kill you with no other factors? I feel like my organs would eventually be popped like pimples by the g-force. I think I would pretty immediately try to swipe my arms until I could propel myself back towards the “floor”. Just to bash my head open on the first thing it touched at that speed.

I’m not a fan of… falling. Heights are fine, it’s just that feeling. Jumping into the pit had been just about as fun as being in it. To be in that state forever…

Maybe the Hell I got here wasn’t the worst roll of the dice.

——————

1:24 PM.

Okay, wow. I swear it didn’t use to suck this much. Did I used to have fun walking? I feel like this is WAY more unbearable than I remember. If I had to see a pie-chart breakdown of what activities occupied my time for the past month, I think that walking is higher than even sleeping. Was it always this awful? I feel like I want to lie face down on the ground, give a long exhale, and never inhale again.

Before I let myself melt, am I even close to this fucking Café? Eight goddamn miles. EIGHT! And if you think I’m forgetting about that .1 that the homeless Ernest Mach had thrown in…

——————

2:10 PM.

It took all of three shelves to calm me down when I climbed up above the tree-line. I saw the small decorative spindles of the Café. It wasn’t exactly close, but I could make it in less than an hour. My feet were starting to ache. I should’ve asked Elijah if he had a pair of shoes more suited for a hike than Converse.

As if. I couldn’t get a stick of gum if I sold them my liver.

——————

2:47 PM.

I’ll probably be there in about fifteen minutes.

How was I talking to you alone for three whole days? Was I giving you crazy backstory? I just remembered that I never finished telling you about her. Hannah. Obviously I… could have. Basically none of this is being written at the time it’s happening anyway. That story just isn’t fun to tell or hear. My brain’s already retold it to me about five trillion times through dream sequences.

Haven’t I already made that excuse?

Sorry, I can’t. Not right now. I just don’t want that reminiscence to be the straw that makes me throw this notebook away into the distance. I need to be a little happier to tell you about her. Will that ever happen? Ummmmmm…

Let me just skirt around it a little longer. I’ll trade you something that’s almost as emotionally disquieting to talk about instead. Something liiikkkkeeee……

——————

Ooooh, I know.

——————

I can’t call Mom and Dad bad parents. I think my mother was an incredibly strong woman. Having one boy is the test of that. Having two is probably a weak woman’s parallel to an infinite IKEA. Three and four? I’ll just say from the bottom of my heart, I never would’ve blamed her for going absentee the second I came out.

Hell, marriage itself is already a lifelong commitment to taking care of a child. My father wasn’t a child, I just think he kept forgetting what he was doing. If I had to guess why he never showed emotion, I wouldn’t say it’s because he felt too proud to, I simply don’t think he ever realized that he was expected to.

I had both of my parents around for the crucial years of my childhood, and that’s more privilege than I could ever argue against with surrounding circumstance. They didn’t abuse me, they didn’t abuse each other. They were good at what they did, and they did it four times without letting themselves slack off on “the next one”. They worked so hard.

But that’s all it was, I think. Work. Parenting is work, but you usually do it because you love your child. I don’t know… I think it was just their jobs and nothing else. That’s not isolated to me either, it was all four of us. They didn’t play favorites or least favorites, we were all equal to them no matter the age or behavior. I was the only one who was still “there” when they split. Eddie wasn’t going anywhere, but by the time I was seventeen, I felt like his name was just an important word I had to remember. He never tried wasting his time in college, but he never really moved out either. His stuff was always at the house, but he never was. I took as much of it as I could when I moved in with Chandler’s family at nineteen, but I would guess that that shit is just rotting in their basement now.

Mateo had called me the day after our parents told me they hadn’t been interested in each other for years. He told me he was surprised they ever were. I knew exactly what he meant. They were always just… there. I didn’t think they were empty or vacant, I just felt like they were always waiting to be told they could go. Like they had better things to do. I told you once about how I only saw my father cry one time. My mother cried a lot, but it wasn’t an overwhelmed kind of crying. Not weak. She could do it strategically. There were so many days when she came home, ruffled my hair, and broke down sobbing on her way upstairs to her bedroom. I would hear her heaving for twenty minutes, door open, not trying to hide it, before coming down to start making dinner like she had just hit a reset button.

Whistling with the radio on. Talking to Eddie about his lacrosse team. Complaining to herself out loud about my grandfather giving her bad genetics and smokers lung, seemingly for no reason relatable to anything that was happening at the time. Doing renditions of old Andy Kaufman bits to make me laugh, pretending they were her own jokes when we both knew they weren’t.

She was sweet, I loved her… for so long.

I don’t want to blame it on Leo’s passing, because if I wanted to, I could blame everything that happened in that family on it in some way, and it’s just a lazy reassignment of fault.

Plus… I don’t want Leo to have to be here anymore. I don’t want his memory to be tied up.

No, that wasn’t what started shutting her down. She was fine for too long afterwards for it to have been causation. I don’t think it was any of us, not even dad. One day… I think someone just finally told her she could go. She didn’t listen to them right away, she knew it wasn’t right for the time. She fought against it, she damn sure did, and as much as I want to say she didn’t, I’d be a lying little bitch if I said she hadn’t tried.

But Eddie started drifting for a reason. Mateo stopped visiting for a reason. I started feeling sorry for myself for a reason.

A month or two before my sixteenth birthday, Mom came home in the middle of the day when none of us were there, and went into Leo’s room. We hadn’t ignored it like you’re supposed to do with a normal late family member, we cleaned it everyday. She cleaned it everyday. Every. Fucking. Day. It was an unhealthy habit, yeah, but it was an unrelated one. Because… I don’t really know how to say this, but I don’t think it’s because she couldn’t let him go. I think it was rooted in a genuine belief that if she wasn’t respectful enough of the gravity of his passing, it might undo itself. I have absolutely no idea where that would have come from for her, but that’s what the paranormally superstitious nature of that family had begun to feel like. The way she acted about that room… it was just weird. Look, everybody grieves differently, but that shit wasn’t grief… it was obstruction. She behaved as if she was warding off the encroachment of something horrible that had made itself known to her. Maybe that’s what had spoken to her, and she had begun living under it as if it had always been there.

My only explanation for her shift in behavior is that some… “thing”… had given her the permission for it.

That day, she emptied that room like it was nothing. All of his belongings that could fit in a box were in the back room of a Goodwill before I even got on the bus home that afternoon.

In a more realistic sense, maybe it was a way for her to hurt herself. Not to take away something she cared about, but to disrupt a foundation of routine that she had very much relied upon to feel like she was in a safe bubble of lucidity. She broke her own unspoken rule that was understood by all of us not to be disturbed.

I didn’t care, not at that time. Dad did.

Somehow I don’t remember a single word of that fight, and I DO NOT block shit out of my memory (as I’ve made abundantly clear). That misleadingly destructive day was the start of a sixteen month timer, counting down to the day where our family would be officially nothing but a group of people with a loose association. Truthfully, it’s quite self-important to call my day of discovering mommy and daddy don’t love each other the “end of the family”.

The end of the family was probably the day I was born, simply because… that was the day it was done being made. The day we were all finally here. The rest was just waiting.

The aftermath of perspective was not good to me.

I learned quite soon after moving out that it was a blessing to have lived in a time where my father had shown no emotion. Any day which I crossed paths with that man again was a very bad day. For someone who had spent so much time playing possum, he seems much more at home flying over the Cuckoo’s nest. Everything I could call him is an undiagnosed label, so I won’t give you the laundry list, but that man acts like he was sold a broken Geiger counter. For summarizing reference, I made it a point to never ask my father’s opinion on my felony conviction.

My mother on the other hand… sadly, I think her wits are more about her than they’ve ever been. She has hence learned something very integral about herself: She does not have the energy to let someone’s feelings down easy. If that means breaking the news to her son that she is hardly interested in reconnecting with him after all these years...

——————

Is that enough useless fucking backstory for the next couple entries?

——————

3:01 PM.

I got you your fuckin’ money…

I immediately booked it to the drink fridge, unscrewing the first bottle of water I could get my hand wrapped around. I learned from my old errors, and slowly enjoyed the sustenance. I sipped in somber relief, as I found the loveseat that I had dragged over to a table during my previous visit. This was weird. Being here again was weirding me the hell out and I couldn’t describe why. I slung the backpack from my shoulder and placed it on the cushions. I retrieved the notebook, and flipped back in it until I found my entry from the day I was here.

I made an I Love Lucy joke? Why?

Ugh, the teeth. Yeah, that shit sucked.

Not as much as that “living” speech though, Jesus. Reading back, that thing is solely embarrassing enough even without an ironically subsequent death.

I placed the notebook on the table and brought the cart over to the buffet line. I parked it and grabbed a tray, focusing on my own hunger first. I would be fine, but I didn’t want to stay for very long at all. I had to remember how long it took me to get here, and plan to avoid a situation where I was even remotely close to lights-out when I returned. Wow, she can call it community service if she wants, but this schedule feels like a perfectly real job to me. Walk for about four FOCUSED hours, maybe get a nice hour of a lunch break, walk back for another four. Maybe it’s healthier for me than sitting at a desk, and at least I’m lucky to be aliv-oh whatever you know how I feel about this.

I went to consider my once again free decision of whatever I wanted to eat for the first time in almost two weeks, before that freedom made me realize the other beautiful liberation I had just been granted. I placed down the tray and walked over to a random spot in the middle of the fucking floor.

I then proceeded to piss in the middle of that fucking floor. God Bless IKEA.

——————

Chicken, macaroni & cheese, greek salad, water, water and water.

I sat down in the loveseat, running a finger over the rib that had originally encouraged me to retrieve it. Pressure was an almost negligible nerve pinch these days, but I was trying incredibly hard to avoid having any excessive amount of it applied. Case in point: My retreat from the front lines of Natalie’s anger this morning.

I grabbed a fork and rooted up a bite of hot macaroni. Feeding myself, chewing soft and slow, I closed my eyes and let the warmth run down to my stomach. My teeth felt better, but something in the back left was either chipped or broken. It must have been from Wyatt, not Natalie, as it pulled on a different discomfort than the one I had recorded before. Well, the discomfort wasn’t dissimilar, the location just was. I tried to chew on only the right side of my mouth, but I kept accidentally tapping the problem area. It didn’t matter, as it wasn’t enough to ruin the euphoria of the meal for me. I even grinned a little as I took another bite, and that bite was good.

Then, I got through about three gnashes of teeth with the next mouthful before I spontaneously burst into tears.

——————

It stopped like a mood swing, but it felt right. I felt my brain say “Okay, that’s enough”. I had already felt pretty good before, but now… I felt satisfaction.

Like hitting a reset button.

I finished the rest of my meal with a clear head.

——————

I placed my tray back on the rack before returning to the cart and counter. I stood stationary for a moment, looking around with one hand on my hip, and the other holding the mini hot dog I was still chewing.

I considered the idea of making a stash of food somewhere, and telling them the rest was all there was. For no other reason than for fun. Not too much, just a container or two-worth so they couldn’t possibly notice. I didn’t want it for myself either, I’d rather dump it on the ground to fucking rot. If I did that everyday for months, the amount that cumulatively piled up would probably have been enough to feed everyone for at least days. Maybe that’s not as much as I think, but the idea of pettily ripping the hypothetical food from their mouths was engrossing me.

For like… a minute or two.

I really no longer felt the same echoing call for vengeance towards R&E that was basically printed on my forehead. I definitely wasn’t going to the polls for them or anything, but I felt like I was being a little much. I’m ALSO not trying to say my post-cry clarity turned me into Ghandi, because I still didn’t like them, but I understood them. That little episode I just had, I really think it was because of the food. Just hunger playing with my emotions. Was that why I was so optimistic all the times that I was on my own? More importantly, maybe that’s the more reasonable excuse that all of them have for being assholes. They’re all just putting up the Bat-signal for a Snickers bar. Doesn’t excuse them all being a lot-much, but it’s an understandable reaction. I guess, I don’t know dude, I’m trying here.

I swallowed my last bit of hot dog and dusted my palms.

“Youth is wasted on the young…”

——————

* Pancakes

* Salmon Fillets

* Salmon Wraps

* Veggie Balls (bleh)

* Waffles

* Caesar salad

* Greek Salad

* Quinoa Salad

* Stockholm Salad (you’re out of your mind if you think I won’t try to make a joke out of this eventually)

* Bacon, a lot of fucking Bacon

* Garlic Lemon Cod

* Chicken Tenders

* Cold-Fermented Buns

* Mashed Potatoes

* Diced Potatoes

* Red Pepper Relish (gross)

* Cauliflower Rice

* French Fries

* Chai & Chili Toasted Chickpeas

* BLT Chicken Wraps

* Macaroni & Cheese

* Peas

* Lingonberry Jam (If there is a God, then just why)

* Eggs

* Plant Balls (probably Bleh)

* Greek Veggie Ball Wraps

* Chocolate Cake (did consider hiding this somewhere for only me)

* Strawberry Shortcake

* Caramel Almond Cake

* Swedish Apple Cake

* And of course, Swedish Meatballs

It didn’t seem limited at all as I menially picked apart most of the Café. It was what I felt was enough, and I truthfully wanted to play the field today of how much they would judge my effort. I was guessing this was probably good, but wanted to see the audacity of it not being so. I emptied the drink fridge into the giant bin, resisting my desire to drink a soda as I opened another water bottle.

I stood back and looked at the cart, stepping forward to fix some of the more precariously placed bins. Once I felt that one slight turn wouldn’t cause an avalanche, I steeled myself and prepared to set back out. I felt… kind of cool? The brave explorer venturing beyond the bounds of safety to feed the village. He also hates that village, but don’t leave that part in the documentary.

I began walking down the path I came. The cart was a little heavier to push, but I was feeling a lot better than when I’d shown up there. I breathed a deep breath, not even close to coughing. It felt cliche to smile, so I didn’t.

——————

I passed by the first clock on my way back after I had already been walking for about ten minutes.

4:22 PM.

A good padding of time to get back without having to worry about curfew. I guess this really is my whole day. They’ll probably shove me right back in the slammer as soon as they get this food from me. Honestly, for now, that’s cool. As long as I have something to do with my day instead of constantly sitting at the table, I’ll probably only feel better and better with time. Only having to sleep in a cage is a better quality of life than being a dog in a cage forever. Plus, not only will I get to walk around everyday, but I’ll be consistently able to write agai-…

——————

The skidding wheels were silenced as I stopped walking.

There is just no way I am that obliviously stupid. I am genuinely refusing to believe it.

I stepped back to behold my own presence in the universe, as I somehow realized for the first time in ten minutes that I had walked away from the Café without the backpack on my back. I let my mind’s eye picture it still sitting on the loveseat, and as it drifted to the left, it illuminated the image of my notebook still sitting on the table.

I placed my hands on each side of my head.

“No no no no no no no… gooooooooddamit.”

Should… should I just leave it there? I’m doing this everyday, so I’ll just be going back there anyway. I can just get it then, it will still be there. I need to get back to R&E.

It will still be there tomorrow. It will still be there…

——————

Why do I not believe that? I don’t trust that being true. Where would it go? Of course it… of course it will still be there.

——————

I looked back at the clock.

4:31 PM.

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

I started running back to the Café.

I immediately began sweating out the optimism and warm fuzzy feelings that this day had begun to instill in me. My back began to itch, and my rib even began to throb. I should have recognized the approach of my stupidity’s resurgence the moment I “felt cool”. I just can’t let myself get on top of the psychology of things, because the second I do, I find a way to prove to myself that I’m like a monkey with a typewriter. Every revelation I have is being caboosed by a new punctuation of discrepancy. God forbid I ever-

Alright come on, dude. You misplaced your fucking diary, is that really the next layer of inferno for you right now? Shit happens, and you’re in a place where the frequencies of shit happening and shit not happening are flipped. Can you stop acting like shit happening is this unprecedented blue moon? Just go pick it up, and get the hell back.

Yeah, I… yeah. Okay.

I made it back in what was maybe six minutes. I coughed as I pulled my pace back to a slow walk, entering back into the Café’s opening. I saw the loveseat and table, both with their respective belongings of mine. I resolved my self-induced panic as I picked up the backpack and strung it over my shoulders. I took the notebook in my hand.

There, was that so bad?

No, and I probably needed the exer-

I turned around, and was about to walk back the way I came, before remembering that my internal monologue doesn’t have a differing intelligence level from mine just because it speaks with reverb.

A Staff member was standing on the other side of the Café, staring at me as I froze.

——————

It didn’t move, the same as I tried to. I was probably contorting like a shivering chihuahua as its invisible parasite eyes dug into my skull. It had been a while since I had seen one. My last encounter being with a number too large to count did not make this lone wanderer any less horrifying. My entire nervous system was twirling around itself, like my own body was trying to hide behind me.

Any input here, genius?

Ummm, I’m good. This is all you.

Typical.

Fine, let's weigh it out.

1. Fight it. Bare hands, preferably any object I can grab in the next five seconds (How did that thought even get past the word “Fight”?).

2. Back slowly away out of sight (I don’t really know how their “sight” works).

3. Run past it back to the hallway (Seemed to work the last time before you went Wile E Coyote).

4. Apologize and beg it to look the other way (Did you just say “look”?)

5. “Hey, what’s that over there?!” (Ummmmm)

That’s it? Five options? Infinite IKEA and I have five options?

What happened to not using that word so much?

You’re hurting my focus, please leave.

WAITWAITWAIT, I THOUGHT OF ANOTHER OPTION! How about we stand completely still forever and see if it just walks away?!

Must be mad-easy for the disembodied voice to choose the least physically possible option for my PHYSICAL body to perform.

You asked.

Fuck it, let’s go with door #2.

As slowly and steadily as I could, I began rolling my feet backwards. I made an effort to have my ankles and feet remain the only parts of my body in motion. My heel almost immediately stumbled on a table base, as I listed hard to the left. I caught myself before I fell, but the table rocked back and forth quickly with an obnoxiously loud rumbling.

——————

Totally off-topic:

Saying something redundant like “well, that’s not good” in an unbelievably life threatening situation is unexplainably fun. I think a lot of people watch action movies and find it really annoying when people are “funny” in the middle of a ridiculously over-the-top scenario. I totally get it, but I will say this: In lethal circumstances, I think one of the only realistic human ways to tie your sane composure to the ground is to have some banter with it.

Kind of like someone who decided that standing in front of a humanoid abomination was the best time to role-play a bickering argument with their own stream of consciousness.

——————

“Well, that’s not good…”

Wasn’t there an option out of those five that I recognized to have WORKED BEFORE?! What’s the reason I didn’t choose that one again?

The Staff member began walking towards me. It didn’t scream or even run, maybe because of the time of day, but it knew that my body was something it needed to care about. Meanwhile, a clump of tubifex worms was replacing my stomach as I staggered my body around. I threw myself into the opposite tree-line of aisles out of the Café, trying to disembark from the sight-line the same way I had from the R&E observation deck. I heard the wet footsteps patrolling at a slow pace, but couldn’t exactly nail down their trajectory as I began panicking. I wanted to stop panicking, as, in theory, all I really needed to do here was snake my way back around to the other side and book it back to the cart. I began doing that, recognizing the hanging Café sign that floated over the view of the bookshelves. I oriented myself, zipping towards my original path, hearing the footsteps residing in the opposite direction still.

Home-free?

I breathed a sigh of relief as I emerged from the woods, and stepped directly into the personal space bubble of two other staff members that were standing in the middle of the path. A sound left my mouth that I think was supposed to be a scream, but turned into an awkward cough as I dashed back into the bookshelves. I darted further into the reach, hearing the footsteps commence behind.

Okay okay okay, you saw It. It was just those two, just spiral around again and get back on the path to run. They’re not in the same wild state that the-

KRUNCH

I heard the cracking of a large piece of wooden furniture somewhere from the direction of the two.

Listen, I’m so serious. Stop saying things. Every time you say something, everything gets so much wor-

“Hey.”

As the overwhelming decision of what to do when hearing an unfamiliar human voice completely discombobulated me, I tripped and fell face first into the floor. Grace under pressure at its finest.

“Oh wow,” The male voice said tiredly from somewhere behind me. “You alright, man?”

I flopped around on the ground, finally gaining the sense to scramble to my feet and turn around defensively. I saw a man that looked to be in his mid-thirties. He had a slightly long neck, with long, dirty red-hair that stretched down over it. He was wearing a navy green raincoat hoodie, and standing way too close to me for someone I didn’t know.

“WHO THE FUCK-“

“-Jesus brother-calm down it’s like five O’ clock in the afternoon.” He said. “No reason to be yelling about things.”

He stepped a little closer as I stepped even further away. It was NOT in my wheelhouse to be meeting new people right now. Not only because of the so ridiculously current situation, but because of how my last encounter with strangers had turned out...

“Look,” I said. “There’s three of those things right over there, and two of them will be here in like ten seconds, so do yourself a huge favor and get far away from me as soon as possible. I will use you as a distraction before you ruin this for both of us, so back the fuck up-“

He held up his hands in reservation.

“-Alright alright, no need for that… name’s Trent-“

“-Don’t tell me your godda-… DON’T TELL ME YOUR NAME! JUST-… get out of here before I do something aggressive.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“You must not get outside much,” He said.

Just then, behind him, the two staff that had migrated from the path revealed themselves about thirty feet away from us. Trent turned around to notice them.

“You’ve definitely got an outside voice though,” He muttered before turning back to me. “You want me to take care of those things? Doesn’t look like you got a weapon on ya.”

Don’t show your hand, he doesn’t know what you-

-Dude, shut up. Where’s the notebook? We need to run.

I spun around to see it on the ground where I’d dropped it during the fall. I snatched it up and turned back to Trent.

“I… stand corrected?” He said, regarding the notebook. “Not sure how that thing’s gonna get ‘em, but I’ve seen weirder methods.“

He didn’t have a weapon in his hands, but I assumed he was packing it under his coat. If he was offering, I’d take him up on it. If anything, I’d dip out when he started screaming in pain.

“No, I… yes,” I said. “Please kill them.”

He shrugged lackadaisically, and turned without answering. He strode up, meeting the first Staff member halfway before pulling out a long broiler fork, and nonchalantly stabbing the shit out of the thing’s face.

“SIR!” The other suddenly yelled as its friend fell lifeless to the ground.

I jolted ridiculously hard, about to turn and book it, before Trent gracefully threw himself forward, getting in the tiny little bubble of its reach, and dealing it dirty before it could wrap its arms around him. He moved with a swiftness that was almost comparable to Kanata’s. The second monster fell to the ground before him. Another crash sounded somewhere in the distance, as the third one began heading straight towards us, rapidly.

Trent turned to me, holding the fork out in my direction.

“Wanna take a turn?” He offered.

I wrung my shaking hands together.

“That’s probably a bad idea,” I replied, as the third Staff member revealed itself.

“No shame,” He said. “Not gonna twist your arm about it.”

He swiftly spun around, and instead of killing it, threw himself under the Staff’s right arm. It continued past him, running directly towards me instead.

“MOTHER FU-“ I screamed, before the edge of the fork poked through the Staff’s forehead.

The fork teeth stared at me like fake eyes in the empty grey, as the titan slid limply forward, the fork sliding from its cold flesh. I jumped backwards before it could touch me. Trent stood behind it, stashing the fork somewhere behind his coat wing as he looked at me.

“You were talking to him, right?” He said, smiling.

Two different shivers coursed simultaneously through my body. I felt like that encounter had given me an irregular heartbeat that I couldn’t shake back to normal.

“Would’ve been nice for you to tell me you were gonna do that shit!” I said.

He wobbled his head.

“I only had ya scared for a couple seconds, didn’t think you were that afraid of ‘em-“

“-What, because you’re not? Great for you, you seem like a super interesting guy. Can you leave now?”

He pulled the broiler fork back out of his coat and tossed it on the ground. It clattered and slid up to my feet as I didn’t let my eyes leave him.

“Not really here to hurt you, if that’s what you’re worried about,” He said. “What are you up to out here?”

I squinted, trying to look as intimidating as I could to the man that had just saved my life after I’d face-planted right in front of him.

“Are you not getting the hint that I don’t want to talk to you, or are you ignoring me? Why the hell is what I’m doing any of your business?”

He frowned a little before wiping it off. His patience was clearly far beyond what I had grown accustomed to from this realm’s population.

“You live up there?” He said, motioning in Return and Exchange’s direction.

I fought and managed to not follow his suggestion with my gaze.

“Live where?”

He rolled his eyes.

“Whatever, friend,” He said, turning and beginning to walk away.

Despite that being what I wanted, I continued yelling. Mostly because he was walking in the direction that I wanted to walk.

“How about you, huh?!” I said. “Where do you live? Do you just sit here waiting for fights to break out?”

He turned around again.

“I’m not mad you don’t wanna tell me,” He said. “I get it. Trust don’t come too easy out here. I’m not one to know if you’ve even met another trustworthy soul out here before, so I’m not pushing ya.”

He walked back over to me.

“But I was watching you out there,” He continued. “I just hope you know the danger of walking around in the open with something as loud as that bellhop’s flatbed.”

Trent did not have a southern accent, but he spoke like someone who should.

“I’m fine,” I said sternly. “I’d be better if there wasn’t some Manson-looking fucker stalking me through the middle of nowhere.”

He smiled slightly.

“See, I’ve gotten Ted Kaczynski when my hair was shorter,” He said. “Guess those guys all had a similar style.”

I was about to shoulder check him and begin walking away, but he beat me to it, side-stepping politely around me. I turned around as he began to exit.

“Yo!” I called to him. “You forgot your shitty little skewer.”

He waved his hand without stopping or turning.

“You can keep it,” He said. “I was gettin’ bored with it anyway. Gotta keep it fresh.”

He moved around the corner of a bedroom display and disappeared out of my view as I stood there, disgruntled.

“Nice to meet you,” I whispered to basically no one. “Don’t ever fucking come near me again.”

Nice last word, man! That’ll teach him to tussle with us!

I will bash in my temple with a lamp if you keep speaking.

——————

I reunited with the cart, and began walking back to R&E.

4:59 PM.

My heart was really starting to worry me, as I couldn’t get it to calm down some twenty minutes later.

Still, I moved with a hastened effort that demanded more out of me, but was less than I minded expending. Not only was I out of the comfort zone of having ample time to get back, but I had to keep looking over my shoulder to see if I was being followed.

By Staff members, yes, but more importantly, the goddamn Unabomber. That was enough to get me in gear.

I had the fork resting on the dolly cart. It was nice to have a stand in for the pole, and I admittedly knew that this, as a weapon, was greatly more efficient. The pole was almost an equivalent to an energy crystal, as I had liked holding it for comfort more than I had felt protected using it. It didn’t have much power without the help of Kanata.

At the same time though, you should probably know me well enough to know that I didn’t want to use his fucking fork. If he hadn’t distracted me, I would have been just fine running away. His help was only useful in the situation that HE had gotten me stuck in. That’s what I’m gonna tell David Letterman when he asks about it, anyway.

——————

7:45 PM.

I stopped to take a quick piss in a display toilet. After finishing, I stashed my notebook away into the backpack, not wanting to show up with it in my hand.

I considered addressing what might be an unhealthy obsession to myself as I did so. That whole situation was because of this notebook. I should’ve left it, why am I messing around like this is a playground? Even with some stranger and two Staff members behind me, the way I had scrambled to grab it from the floor was so skittish.

The way I had ripped it from Elijah’s hand earlier today…

The thing is, it kind of deserves my attention. Trent had joked about it being a weapon, but this thing has truly saved my life. I don’t know if I would have stayed sane if I didn’t have it. I guess the danger of that truth is that without it… I might not be able to stay sane ever again.

——————

But back then was different. Back then was a different monster of isolation.

Thinking about it now, I’m more surprised about meeting no people in my first four days here than I am about the lack of Staff. I’m sure the Staff are born out of nowhere in some way, like test-tube children of the complex. People are different though. Do we all start in the same place when we “end up” here?

This place seemed abandoned when I showed up, but there actually seems to be more people here than New York City. I’m being hyperbolic, but I can’t be expected to believe that R&E is the extent of this place’s populace. There’s probably other communities thousands of miles away. Where are all these assholes coming from?

I really haven’t thought about this for a long time now, because I’ve been so focused on my own shit, but what is seriously going on out there? How is there not a news coverage epidemic of people going missing in IKEAs? Has there been? I never watched the news very much, so maybe I could’ve missed it, but with how many people I ALONE have seen here so far, I would think it would be hard for me to just stroll into an IKEA.

They should’ve made me sign a waiver at the door.

I should really ask Elijah about it when I-…

——————

Actually… I don’t think that’s a good idea…

——————

8:10 PM.

I reached calling-distance of the gate as I passed by the first clock I had used to tell my departure time.

“YO!” I called. “I’M BACK!”

I brought the cart to a stop in the middle of the clearing. I stretched my back and shook my legs, only realizing now how tired my feet were. It was enough to steal my focus from the gentle cold front that was poking my skin, in a place where I usually felt no temperature.

I swayed back and forth in empty silence, as I didn’t hear a single peep from over the gate. I assumed it blocked out noise pretty well, but it sounded completely barren. I looked to the top, expecting to see someone looking down at me over the edge, but no heads were present. I waited patiently for a minute or two, as I figured they might have to retrieve enough people to help open the gate or something, but I got tired of waiting about three minutes later.

“HELLOOOOO?! IT’S… KINDA LATE RIGHT NOW! CAN YOU LET ME IN?!”

Right about now was the time that one of them would probably pop out and tell me that they had changed their mind, and they weren’t letting me back in. You can leave the food for sure, but go somewhere else before we shoot you dead in the street. I might have been infuriated in reality, but I found the thought of that so ridiculously scornful that it could only be funny. The continued absence of any response contradicted that possibility, though. I just doubted they would choose silence, and miss the opportunity to rub that decision in my face while I was left out here to die. There are way too many people in there that would love to memorize the look on my face when I realized I would never be allowed back in.

I walked over to the cart and opened the top Tupperware container, pulling out a cold french-fry to nibble on. I wasn’t hungry, as I’d eaten more today than I had the past two days combined. I just needed something to help me think. Even as close to curfew as it was, I couldn’t really force myself to be stressed about their lack of urgency. If anything, maybe I had fooled myself earlier about their expectations of my side of the punctuality, and they had just assumed I was dead like three hours ago.

“Did we have a passcode or something?”

If we did, I definitely wasn’t told about it. I could just start guessing…

“1-2-3-4-5-password-asshole-qwerty-6-7-8!”

No response. Weird, seems like exactly what Natalie’s computer password would be.

“Do I need to say the special character out loud at the end?!”

My floor began to warble under my feet, as the familiar horn of the apocalypse sounded before me. I tilted my head in annoyance.

“Long ass password…”

As the passage made the slightest opening, Roman entered the clearing, brandishing his sword.

“Wow,” I said. “That was a little quick for you to be the first one out. I didn’t think you could fit through an opening that small.”

He walked up to me silently, and shoved his left palm into my chest, basically shot-putting me backwards to the ground. I coughed as my back punched the floor. I continued coughing as I lay on the ground, disoriented.

“What… the actual-“

The tip of his sword pressed against my sternum as gently as a butterfly’s leg. I held myself still in its grasp.

“Why didn’t you have your hands up, dude,” He said down to me, less aggressively than I would have expected.

I didn’t follow suit.

“Why didn’t I what?! Was I yelling the word BOMB?! You almost made me crack my skull just now!”

“Sorry,” He said. “But you have to listen about the hands.”

“Oh shit,” I heard Sean’s voice say behind him. “Don’t tell me no one told you about that.”

I lifted my head slightly to see him leaning against a wall with a fireaxe in his hand, his other hand stuffed in his pocket.

“Kind of important, right?” He added, smiling at me sadistically. “I would’ve just shot you if I had been the first one out.”

“No you wouldn’t’ve,” Roman mumbled tiredly without turning around to Sean. “Cody, you have to have your hands raised away from your pockets and back when you come to the gate. That’s serious, that’s important. You need to follow that rule.”

“Dude I-…” I sputtered. “Sure, what the fuck ever, I’ll do it. No one ever said that to me.”

“Yeah-“ I heard Elijah gasp as he stepped from the gate’s opening. “I… may have forgotten to mention it, that’s on me.”

Roman stayed silent for a moment as he slowly retracted the sword, and I sat up on my elbows. He turned around, walking past Elijah.

“Yeah,” he said to him. “It is.”

He disappeared back inside the gate.

“Sean!” I heard him call from behind it.

Sean stepped up from the wall, and went to follow Roman, giving me a typically wicked side-eye.

“We makin’ room for the cart?” He called to Roman. “Or are we trapping them both out here? I’m down either way!”

As the scraping began again to widen the gate’s mouth, Elijah walked up to me on the floor, and held out his hand.

“I’m sorry…” He said. “I was distracted this morning… can you stand up with my hand instead of standing up on your own please?”

I couldn’t even tell if I was mad. Most of this could likely get summed up as Elijah being Elijah, and I was a bit distracted by the way Roman had spoken to me just now. All of that to the side though, I recognized that this was just an occurrence of shit happening. Meaning, it was up to me whether or not I wanted to continue being a little much. If anything, I would just pace myself.

I blew my hair over my forehead, and took Elijah’s hand.

“You’re fine,” I said as he helped me to my feet. “You probably ‘forgot’ to say it in an effort to rebel against your boss. I’m used to you using me to accomplish that.”

“That’s… fair,” He replied awkwardly. “I can work on being a more creative asshole in the future.”

Behind him, Sean walked back outside.

“At least you’re observant, because it is late,” He said to me as he passed us. “Let’s get him back inside.”

“Agreed, don’t wanna let him go chasing a butterfly off a cliff,” Elijah replied before turning to me. “Anything cool happen out there?”

Sean started rummaging around the cart behind me.

“Nothing cool,” I said. “Just found a really awesome stick.“

“YO!”

We both looked behind me to see Sean holding up the broiler fork.

“Yeah, that’s the one,” I said to Elijah.

“WHAT WERE YOU PLANNING TO DO WITH THIS SHIT?! HUH?!” Sean screamed. “No hands shown, and he tries to smuggle a fucking weapon in here-what the hell, Elijah?!-“

“-Sean, chill out,” Elijah said. “He probably just thought it looked cool or something.”

“I mean, I was actually keeping it to kill someone,” I said.

Sean turned, hurtled the fork far into the distance and strode up to me with his fireaxe, dropping it slightly to get his hand right below the shoulder. He grabbed me by mine, and forced the bit up to my throat.

“Come on dude, stop!-“ Elijah immediately cried.

“-Someone? Who?!” He pestered me.

“Anyone,” I said calmly. “Should I have said something instead? Would that have prevented you from holding an axe up to my neck-“

“-what’s in this goddamn backpack, huh? You got a bomb in there or something?-“

“-did you not hear what I just said to Roman?-“

“-If I hadn’t picked that shit up, and you brought it inside, what would you have done with it?”

“I don’t know, probably forgot I even had it. I didn’t even use it out there.”

“Then why do you have it?”

I felt myself hesitating for a small moment, as I resisted the honesty of recounting today’s incident. To be honest with you, my withholding of information was simply to spite them, and I likely wasn’t appreciating how bad of an idea that was. I was only appreciative of how I was slowly getting better at lying.

“Do you think I was using it to play with myself? I had it because I was scared of needing it. I get why you’re mad, so I’m sorry, but if we didn’t need a weapon to go outside, you guys wouldn’t need me, right? It would’ve been nice for you to throw one over the wall after locking me outside.“

He stared at me silently. I’m sure he could feel my heart beating. I couldn’t get my mind off of it.

“How about you and me have our thing be communication from now on,” I whispered to him.

——————

Elijah put his hand on my other shoulder, looking at Sean.

“I don’t know where this conversation is going, but I gave him the backpack,” Elijah lied. “It was just in case he needed the-“

Sean shoved him away, pushing through the both of us.

“Go fuck yourself, Elijah,” He said as he walked to the gate, and disappeared behind it.

Elijah stood motionless. I kicked my feet awkwardly, waiting for a comment from him that never came. I decided to make one instead.

“Yeah I uh… I should’ve known bringing anything else back was a bad idea. That’s my bad.”

He stayed silent.

“And you didn’t have to do that… lie for me,” I said to him. “Especially since you’re horrible at it. I know I’m easy to lie to, but most people aren’t as gullible as me… he wasn’t gonna do shit anyway.”

——————

“Yeah, maybe not. I’m gonna wait a while before taking your advice on lying though,” He said slowly.

I need holy water.

“I can…” He began without looking at me. “I can help you get that cart to the pantry if you’re tired.”

I nodded to the back of his head.

“Sure,” I said.

I turned to walk back towards it, trying to hide the smile that Sean had tempted my face to wear.

——————

Elijah had guided me back through town with the cart. He confiscated the backpack (sans notebook), but let me take another water out of the bin as we walked. We met Nikko at the entrance of the pantry, as he took the cart from me, thanked me for my valiant sacrifice, and wheeled it to the back.

“Have any specific dinner requests while we’re here?” Elijah asked.

“I’m… actually not very hungry. Just the water is fine. Is it okay if I just eat tomorrow?”

“You asking the starving people if it’s alright to not eat their food?”

We started walking back to the cell.

“Did Natalie ever find Margo?” I said to him.

“Oh… yeah, she um… she found her.”

“Where is she?”

Elijah stayed silent for a moment.

“Um, my ‘she’ I mean,” I pretended.

Elijah turned to me, smiling.

“She’s yours now?”

This is the reward I’ve been repeatedly getting for avoiding sensitive topics around Elijah.

“I just expected her to be the one yelling at me when I got back.”

“Yeah, well… she got a little busy today after you left. She was… checking on someone.”

“You mean Jen?”

“Uh, no. Not her….. also, I know I told you about that, but I’d be careful saying that name out loud. If anything, just make sure you don’t say it around Natalie OR Roman. Sensitive topic, you know?”

It would be quicker to list what isn’t a sensitive topic here.

“Hey,” He said. “You can walk next to me if you want.”

I… didn’t really want to. I did though.

——————

I slid down in the chair, feeling like it was a lot more comfortable than I remember it being this morning.

“Alright,” Elijah said. “We’ll be here to wake you up again tomorrow. Even though I know you’ll probably be awake.”

That is if I didn’t have a heart palpitation in my sleep. It just wouldn’t stop. My attention was being drawn to every single beat that seemed like it would rocket out of my chest.

“But try to get some good sleep,” He continued. “You’ve earned it.”

I rolled my eyes a little, choosing not to mention my current physical fear to Elijah.

“It wasn’t that hard, dude,” I said. “Anyone could’ve done what I just did.”

He moved to the doorway.

“Maybe,” He said. “But you did it. And I know you were sort of… tasked with it but… thank you for today. For doing it, for not running away… definitely for not dying.”

I lay my arms on the pillow on the table, resting my chin on them as I looked up at him.

“Were you assuming I was going to? It seemed like everybody was.”

“Well, don’t hold that against them. We expect the worst and are pleasantly surprised by anything that happens above that line. Everyone will be very happy to have been proven wrong.”

“Everyone, Elijah?”

He shrugged.

“A lot of people will be very happy. I’m happy, Margo will be happy… Roman is happy.”

Was he? I guess I knew he was. That “scolding” he served me sounded so regretful, like he dreaded having to do it. Although, if that was really the case, I feel like he could’ve found a way to get his point across without throwing me to the floor. I felt embarrassed by the thought of having his appreciation.

“I’d rather he not be,” I said.

Elijah frowned, and was about to say something before visibly rephrasing it heavily in his head.

“That’s not your choice sadly,” He said. “Not sure why you would want that either, but your desires are typically an enigma to me.”

Everything can’t be obvious to everyone.

“Yeah well, no one should be too happy yet,” I said. “Just because I didn’t die today doesn’t mean I’m invincible.”

“Sure it does.”

He smiled, as I imagined what my afternoon would be if I had decided to take my chances outside.

“Anyway,” He said. “I’ll see you later… are you gonna want breakfast tomorrow? You’d probably get a cramp as soon as you started walking.”

I shook my head.

“I’ll be fine until lunch,” I said. “Breakfast is severely overrated.”

“Dude, I would’ve been feeding you a single grain of rice per day if I knew you could live off it. One grain of rice and four bottles of water.”

I smiled big at him as he stepped out of the door, dropping the lock behind him.

I shed my smile immediately.

“Fucking weird bitch.”

I wish he was a worthless little slug that I could dump an entire shaker of salt on top of. Hopefully he would still scream in his own human voice.

——————

The lights went out some five minutes later, and I was swallowed in a darkness that didn’t take long to tee-up my sleep. I used my excessive fantasies of anger to drift me out the rest of the way. A little Sean here, a little Natalie there, and a big steaming pile of screaming Elijah in the center. Robert didn’t feel as satisfying as he had before, but my subconscious wasn’t picky.

A little bit of myself off to the side wouldn’t hurt though.

——————

I’m finding it hard to relate to the cold. Wind is beginning to hit like a wimp. One thousand meters until the top. No one else is trekking alongside me anymore. Troublesome breathing. Lazy and tired. Eating my own legs is sounding so appetizing. To quell my hunger as much as to disengage my own movement. Yetis could come and demolish my stubby torso. Of course I would let them. Unless they are planning on making it slow, I’m sure it would be a welcome relief. Risk/reward? How bad could it be in comparison? Every step I force myself to take is how I imagine walking through a lake of broken glass would feel. At least I could give up and float on my back in that lake. Rest in the pain. Teeth sound like a perfect life raft, because swimming is so much work. Saving myself is one thing, saving myself the trouble is another. Trapped one thousand meters from the top. One more harness to undo. Perfect.

Part Eight 1/2

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