"Dexter…," calls out the reverberating, ethereal, voice of a mysterious girl. The soundwaves she's producing are somehow making me tremble and sway. It feels like I've been lifted off the ground, or like I'm teetering on the edge of a bough. Frightening, especially since I'm sleeping and can't open my eyes.

"Mmmuuummmrrrffgggrrrbbl… grrrbbbl…," is all I can seem to utter in response. This sleep is feeling too good.

"♪ Deeeeexter… ♪" she calls out again, this time attempting to be gentle and melodic. She sounds sweet and very inviting, but I still don't want to budge. I just want to sleep. I'm comfortable right now.

"Noooo… I wanted to go to Jet's Games today, not church… grrrrbbbl…"

I don't know where that came from, but I see that I'm talking in my sleep. That means this is some good, goddamn rest! Perfect!

"DEXTER! WAKE YO' OL' BRAMBLE-HEADED-ASS UP, BOY!" she roars. This time her voice hits me like a concussive wave and sends me flying into a tough, flesh-like wall. I swiftly drop to the floor (which is also fleshy, but softer) with a heavy thud.

"OWWWW! Wh-what's going on?! Where am I?!"

"Weeeeeell, it would appear that you're, or rather we're, inside of your unconscious mind. A place where you have somehow still found time to sleep. Fuckin' lazy-ass."

"Oh…? I see. Wait, who are you, and why are you inside of my head? Also — I'M NOT LAZY!"

"Ugh! Do you seriously not recognize me, nigga?! ANNNNND—YOU DEFINITELY FUCKIN' ARE!"

"Well, ummm, I'm not familiar with any giant, wavering, disembodied heads with blazing royal blue eyes and pulsating, golden veins running throughout their face," I retort, scratching my head. That was a fuckin' mouthful.

This young woman… her voice, though unusual, is captivating and oddly reminiscent. I'm puzzled however, because something about her seems welcoming and comfortable, for lack of a better way to put it. I feel like I should be able to recognize who she is, but I'm drawing blanks. Fuck her for still implying I'm lazy though. I'm never that.

"Ugh! Bruh! It's Zuri, nigga!" No sooner had she said that, did all of my memories of the past several hours come rushing back.

Assailed by a quickening river of remembrance that initially showed no signs of arresting, I felt like I was drowning. That drowning, however, quickly morphed into something far more atrocious as every recent experience began to cascade like a waterfall, but a waterfall that is more akin to molten lava than something aquatic, pouring itself over my brain. I don't know how, but I've gone from believing I was freezing to death, to believing I'm being waterlogged by a violent deluge and, lastly, to believing I'm being burned alive. Or rather, that my brain is.

The intensity with which the memories have returned forces me to fall to my knees and cry out in pain. As pathetic as it is to admit, I've been doing that a lot today. The falling on my knees thing, I mean. Well, I've also done a lot of wailing. It's just not my fuckin' day today. All bad.

"MAKE IT STOP!" I plead, rolling around in agony on the moist and membranous floor of my subconscious. The Zuri-Head—best name I can think of right now 'cause, you know, my mind is ON FIRE!—just stares at me quizzically. Her eyes turn from the previously luminous royal blue, to a much more sedated, grayish shade. In some strange way, she has a degree of control within my head because the burning immediately stops, delivering the much desired relief.

All of this begs a particular question though: am I really so weak that I can't even settle and dominate my own brain?

"No, you're not weak, Dexter," Zuri-Head starts, speaking in an almost motherly tone. While I didn't ask that question out loud, she managed to hear it. Scary. I wonder what else she's heard. "You're just anxious and confused, which has you flustered, so it's hard to get a grasp on things. That's only natural, especially after what D'Voorz put you through. Also, I can hear everything since this is your mind I'm in, so I would love it if you just called me Zuri instead of 'Zuri-Head'. I'm aware that I don't have my full body right now, so I don't need you repeatedly pointing the shit out, my nigga."

"Alright, alright. Sorry, Zuri. Haha! That attitude though," I observe, weakly laughing and rubbing the back of my head. "Man, I swear that shit must run in you and Shan's blood."

"UGGGGGGH! BRUH! CAN YOU, LIKE, NOT RIGHT NOW?! I DON'T WANNA TALK ABOUT THAT WAYNCH!" blares Zuri, her ethereal voice thundering and reverberating more intensely than before. Her eyes have now returned to being a radiating royal blue, which is probably a sign that she's pissed off.

"ALRIGHT! ALRIGHT! CHILL! I was only making an observation, not trying to start shit. Jesus…,"

"Yeah, that's what you say," she scoffs, rolling her eyes and releasing crackling, blue embers at the same time. "You seem real obsessed with my cousin though, bruh. It's giving creepy-deepy, fa'real."

"Fuck that! I am NOT obsessed with her! Actually, it's more like she's obsessed with ME, especially with all of the constant torment she puts me through! Fuckin' day in and day out, always popping up when I least expect it and don't want her company. Matter of fact, I NEVER want her company!" I pause and, in a moment of anger, shove my right fist into the tender and viscous floor, which causes me a measure of immense pain. I forgot this is my brain I'm inside of. Anymore outbursts like that and I may very well damage it. Probably what D'Voorz is hoping for by trapping me here. "Anyway, I'm still confused on how you're inside of my head. Is it because we're both unconscious?"

"Bruh, I know you're not changing the subject like that, are you? We're supposed to be discussing your obsession with my cousin, not this fucked up psychic link! Stick to the script, fam."

"Okay, wait a minute: first you didn't want to talk about Shan, now you want to psychoanalyze and falsely accuse me of being obsessed with her? Make up your fuckin' mind!"

"Talking about your obsession is not the same as talking about her, my nigga. I can mention her in passing without lingering on anything about her. You have a serious problem when it comes to Shan. I peeped all of that while you were sleep."

"Wait — you were probing my fuckin' mind?! That's an invasion of privacy!"

"Fuck your privacy! I'm in here for some reason, so gon' 'head and say goodbye to that shit," she voices with a heavy sigh, sounding more perturbed than eager to be privy to all of my deepest, darkest thoughts. The veins in her face are pulsating rapidly now and emitting a more fulgent golden glow. An "explosion" of sorts seems imminent. "For the record, you think about feet entirely too much. It's confusing and unsettling for me, especially since I'm on a 'tape' in the perverted recesses of your mind."

"Wait, you know about that?!" I scream, my speech almost cut short by an asthma attack that stops as soon as it starts.

Like I said before, I'm always trapped in my mind. However, being metaphysically trapped here is something I'm not quick to adjust to. I can feel so much pain, but it moves through me faster than a synapse, which for some reason feels like it could possibly kill me if I'm not careful. That aside, my world feels like it's falling apart right now. I mean, it might not seem like a big deal since it is only Zuri, but I'd rather NOBODY know about "the tapes".

The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

"Shit, well………uh, now that the cats out the bag for you now too, you can just join the club. Your cousin already teases me about it anyway. Won't feel much different if you do as well," I assert, trying to hide this chimera of annoyance, embarrassment and nervousness currently devouring me. I honestly don't know why I'm so nervous, we're only inside of MY head, but I guess I'm starting to realize that she could find out more than just my bizarre fantasies. She could become aware of rhe much darker parts of me.

While struggling with this revelation, I feel a tap on my right shoulder. The tap was definitely a cause for concern, because even though it felt non-threatening, it left me wet. Whatever just touched me has made the hairs on the back of my neck raise, along with leaving them damn near singed from its horribly smelling, furnace-like breath as it abruptly moves in closer.

Pleasedontlookbehindyoupleasedontlookbehindyoupleasedontlookbehindyou, I rapidly plead to myself as if my life depends on it. Trying to convince myself not to do a 180° turn fails, so now I've come face-to-face with an abomination that only Junji Ito, David Cronenberg, John Carpenter and Aves Bay's own Preston Descrevan could think up.

*🌙*

"What's goin' on, dick-tickler?!" the misshapen beast emphatically inquires with a pitchy growl, grinning in a very uncanny way. Its deep, distorted voice sounds like the prolonged or looped roar of a T-Rex, a running chainsaw and a modulator were thrown together in a demonic blender, then tossed into the rapidly whirling blades of a rusty lawnmower, which itself was placed in a circle of microphones that had been damaged by rainy weather.

While I obviously couldn't recognize this being from their physical appearance or voice, I knew who they were upon hearing the insult tacked onto their question: Bentley Branson Lanier.

Inside of my mind, this manifestation of Bentley looks exactly like the monster I have always perceived him to be. I'm horrified, but nowhere near shocked that my primary tormentor—who has given me nightmares and anxiety attacks since seventh grade!—is now a towering, twisted mutant. At first glance, he seemed to be only crooked and bent out of shape, but the longer I stare, the worse his physical appearance becomes.

"Ummm… Dexter… WHO –– OR WHAT –– THE FUCK IS THAT?!" yelps Zuri, her giant head spinning around in distress. I can feel all of her trepidation coursing through me as far as the monstrosity in front of us is concerned, which I guess is due to this connection we share presently. Admittedly, I would love to sever the link and get us both out of here, as I can barely manage my own fear, let alone hers.

"Well, I figured since you've been hearing all of my inner monologue, you'd know," I respond cheekily. My remark was meant to be more snarky in nature, but the numerous sparks and flames being erupted behind me have informed me that she took it much more personal than I wanted her to. "Since you asked though, that eyesore dead ahead is one of the bullies who has made my life a living hell since I was 13. Bentley Branson Lanier."

"I see. Aside from him being a bully, he's one ugly muthafucka, that's for sure," she says, her delivery a lot calmer now. I can tell she remains anxious though, and that has only served to multiply the uneasiness inside of me.

"Yeah, that's not how he actually looks, just how he exists in my subconscious," I reluctantly express. This apprehension continues to gnaw away at me, but I never take my eyes off Bentley. I just keep analyzing every aspect of his current form.

***

He has a giant, clumsy-looking body, one that was given shoulders which have positioned themselves diagonally as if gravity was trying to drag him back to Hell where he came from. In-between those shoulders sits a neck that is longer than that of a crane or pelican, but just as wide as a caterpillar, except this would be a caterpillar that's overgrown and pulsating with flesh like slimy leather.

On that neck sits Bentley's deformed, crinkled head. His face is more akin to a creature from Dead Space than it is anything human. He consistently smiles in the creepiest way possible, and somehow manages to do so with a hanging, corkscrew-shaped jaw. His eyes are uneven and spaced out, with the left eye being larger than a jumbo honey bun. It pretty much takes up a majority of the space on that side of his face and is devoid of any discernible pupil. Both eyes are, actually.

"Man, ugly doesn't even begin to describe how grotesque you are," I utter, whispering to myself with great hesitancy. At that remark, Bentley lurches forward and starts to rotate his neck, transforming it into an unnatural manifestation of the Fibonacci spiral, then he brings his hideous visage nauseatingly close to mine. The smell of his breath forces me to recoil, but it's the only movement I find myself able to make. My legs are frozen stiff for the umpteenth time. After lingering for a minute and staring at me like I'm his next meal, Bentley begins to uncontrollably shake and jerk around.

Eventually, his spiralled neck is forcefully straightened as it shoots into the air while his body violently bifurcates from his forehead down to his waistline, revealing a giant mouth with three rows of serrated teeth. At this point, Bentley can't talk, but he can certainly fight as he lunges for me, an action that sees him leap forward like a starving, rabid lion.

"RUN, DEXTER! RUN!"

*🌙*

For some reason, I was able to move when Zuri called out. Perhaps it was both of us being desperate to escape that became the push I needed, because I ran and kept running, never taking a chance to look back as I made my way through this dimly lit, sinuous tunnel of my mind. Zuri was ahead of me, no pun intended, zooming like a bat out of hell, or like someone had given the Speed Force to that giant Boo from Super Mario World. What? I'm a fan of things that came before me. Sue me.

"Dexter! That Bentley Beast isn't going to let up. You're eventually gonna have to stand up for yourself and fight," Zuri says, stating the obvious as I eat her dust. We aren't racing, but it feels like it. Kinda exciting honestly.

"Yeah! That's easy for you to say when you probably have some type of control over your powers!"

"You've never been able to use your abilities?!" she asks, seemingly surprised.

"No! Of course not! The only time I've been able to is today, and that's because of the collar that Doc Mordecai provided," as soon as I said that, it dawned on me that I wasn't wearing the collar. "Shit! How the hell am I going to dispatch of Bentley if I have no way to activate my Faculties?!"

"You don't need that silly collar, Dexter! You're inside your mind right now. Connect with it."

"Am I not already connected? I mean, just look at what's chasing us!" Bentley was right on my tail, close to leaping on top to swallow me whole, and Zuri next.

"You're not connected, dimwit. There's a disparity between you and your brain as we know it right now. Instead of housing it, it's housing you. You're a prisoner of your own thoughtscape, but you don't have to be. Gain control."

She said that with such assurance that I couldn't help but believe I could do so. If I could figure out how to merge my conscious mind with the unconscious part, we may very well be able to escape. However, I'm at a loss on how to make that move.

"Stop thinking, Dexter and just do it! That's the key! Don't hesitate, just act!"

Alright, here goes nothing. "Fuego-Fists! Activate!" I stopped, hoping my hands would go up in a blaze, but nothing happened. I was willing it, but didn't feel that "switch" get flipped. And now, after pausing, Bentley was close enough to eat me. "Damn you, Zuri! Listening to you, now I'm fucked!"

"You're not fucked! And it's not my fault!" she rages, immediately calming herself down. "Look, do you believe in affirmations?"

"I mean, I've read up on them, but never actually used any. Felt they wouldn't work for me to keep it a buck."

"Well, affirmations are all about faith. Having a strong enough conviction that things will happen because you will them. None of us know what lies ahead, but we can do our best to effect change by just speaking things into existence."

"And you really believe it's that easy?" I ask, feeling incredulous about this brief discussion. Not to mention, Bentley is only a few inches away, but he isn't attacking. He's just been pacing back and forth as if he's waiting for me to make a move. As clumsy as I am, I'd no doubt deliver myself into his monstrous gullet by trying to run by him. There's not enough space to get by.

Maybe there's some truth to connecting with my mind though, and for now, I've become locked-in, effectively holding him back.

"I can't help but believe it! These affirmations are how I've made it through so many dark days, and they've worked perfectly so far."

"Well, I'm still not too sure about it, but I'll take you at your word. Do you have a particular affirmation in mind that I can use?"

"Yes! I have THE BEST one! Are you ready?!" she gushes, giddier than kids hyped up on birthday cake and wrestling in a ball pit.

"Lay it on me!" I'm anxious as hell, especially since I have everything to lose. Mainly my life. Yet, I can't write off anything without testing it.

"Alright! Try this: I claim it, and it shall be so!"

"Eh…"

"What?!"

"I mean, that's it?"

"Of course! Duh! What were you expecting?" Zuri says, frowning. I'm still not used to her being a disembodied head, and seeing her frantically hopping up and down in agitation is very distracting.

"I don't know. I guess something a little more………lively?"

"BRUH! These are affirmations, not some snarky Marvel one-liners!"

"A Marvel one-liner would probably be more optimal right now!" Bentley is still pacing around. It's disturbing because his bifurcated body is waving about, looking like a gutted starfish with bloody tendrils shooting in and out. I didn't notice those before, so maybe he's mutating further? If so, I need to go ahead and give this affirmation a go. "Alright. I'll use it, but I'm going to alter it a bit."

"That's fine! Just do something to get us out of here! Dude is creeping me the fuck out!"

"Here goes nothing!" I take a deep breath as I center myself. I only have one shot. "I claim it, therefore it will be so: Fuego-Fists and Absolute Strength — ACTIVATE!"

🌙🌙🌙