TheCouchEffect
Junior Trainer
- Pronouns
- He/His
Okay, wow. I am so glad I saved reading this until I had finished moving into my dorms. This is probably one of my favorite chapters of this story purely because of your descriptions and use of the spider to show how much Red is slipping. I'm curious what those three thousand words of outtakes were. Slightly altered versions of what happened or more in-depth descriptions that just didn't fit the scene?IT'S BEEN FOUR MONTHS AHAHA how did that happen? well, i guess summer job and a really difficult scene happened. there were 3k words worth of outtakes in this revision, no joke.
anyway! this chapter is rated mature for strong language, some gory metaphors and discussion of a past traumatic event. i should also mention that this chapter has considerable arachnophobic elements, so if spiders freak you out, be warned. alright, enjoy!
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CHAPTER EIGHT
Illness
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There was no doubt about it - I’d become sick.
It began from the moment I woke up. Pain. A dull, pressurized pain in my gut. As my mind shook off the haze of slumber - well, as much as it could - I gained the ability to better describe the pain.
It was as if all the organs around the area had detached from their ligaments, letting them flop around freely. After that, they'd all been filled with small cold stones, dried up and shrunk. And finally, on top of all that, their muscles were still inexplicably contracting, causing the organs to ceaselessly squirm around inside me, pressing and grinding against each other and the inner walls of my body.
Basically, I’d become a living, breathing ore processing plant.
This naturally made life very difficult for me. As the fatigue that had struck me yesterday had only strengthened, I found myself almost completely unable to walk. My limbs simply wouldn’t stay straight beneath me.
Luckily, I could still crawl around. I could use the bathroom and drink from the tap. I was on my way back from one such visit when I remembered water wasn’t the only sustenance humans needed, but the carousel inside me strongly disagreed. I knew going without food had a good chance of making things worse, but once I looked down the stairs, I decided that a little starvation was preferable over a broken neck. And so, defeated, I slithered back into my room, buried myself under my blanket and tried my best not to think.
Time passed. Whether it was minutes or hours is still unknown to me. I tossed and turned, unable to find a comfortable position. Slumber kept circling me like a wingull stalking a poorly-guarded burger, but it refused to dive. The light from my window flashed my face over and over again… and then, my savior arrived.
I heard a voice from my door and turned towards it. In the frame stood a humanoid creature shorter than a man, but taller than a child. Its head resembled a dark-vined tangela without eyes.
I tried recalling the words it had spoken, but I remembered only some sounds. I stared at the being with miserable eyes, pleading it to explain itself again. Fortunately, it did.
“Are you feeling alright?”
Now that I’d actually paid attention, I recognized the speaker immediately and felt quite stupid. It was Abe. Obviously.
‘No, I feel terrible,’ I attempted to say, but what came out was more like the mating call of a stantler buck.
Fortunately, he got the gist. “Do you want me to bring you anything? Food, water?”
Food had probably become a smart investment by then, and if I could get my water through some other way than channeling the spirit of a slug, all the better. I gave the closest thing I could to a nod along with another horny-stag-roar.
“I’ll get you a sandwich and a glass of water,” Abe said. As he withdrew, I promised myself I’d remember this on the day of ascension. I’d repay him then with a quick, painless death. Or perhaps by turning him into some bird mon. Something that flies has a much better chance of fleeing the Helixians.
Abe returned some time later with his promised sandwich. I chowed it down as fast as I could, which wasn’t very. I thanked Abe with another groan as he left the glass on my nightstand and left. I could tell he would come back again later in the day, and I was happy. Happy that Abe would be there. A rare feeling.
I actually managed to get some more sleep after that, although dreamless. It was a shame as staring at the same room for so long had made me hungry for variety, but at least it meant no nightmares.
What woke me up was another visit from Abe. It went roughly the same as the first, though I also asked how long it had been since the previous visit - a request that took plenty of effort and patience from both parties to be successfully delivered. It had been four hours, but Abe had also checked on me somewhere in the middle quietly enough not to wake me. I accepted the sandwich gladly, as the previous one hadn't made me any sicker. Though it's not like it made me any less fatigued, either.
Visit three was special. It began the same way as the others, but once the food delivery had been negotiated, Abe spoke new words. I didn't catch all of it the first time around, but once the words 'psych appointment' registered, my mind suddenly sharpened. I recognized my pain and exhaustion as ailments of my body, distinct from my consciousness. The fog in my mind thinned considerably, and for the first time in a while, I felt truly awake.
"Psych appointment?" I repeated, to the great surprise of both Abe and myself. The stantler had learned to speak.
"Yeah," he half-said, half-gasped. "I had rescheduled it to be two days from now, but I wanted to ask if you thought I should cancel that and reschedule again."
It must have been the illness that made me say no.
In retrospect, there was every reason to cancel the appointment. I had been very sick for almost a full day and logically I should have anticipated it to continue. There was no pressure to have that appointment as illness was a completely acceptable reason to skip it.
But there I was, drunk on the sudden clarity of my mind. Feeling as if I was getting better by the second. That two days from then, I'd be in the best shape of my life.
And the worst part of it all?
I was right.
"Red?"
I look to my left to meet Abe's curious eyes. I guess I must have gotten lost in thought.
“Sorry. Just thinking,” I say and give a reassuring smile --
Oh, right, but he can’t see it! He can’t see it because I’m wearing a mask! Because it’s the considerate thing to do when going out in public after being sick. Good thing my dear brother was there to remind me of this before we departed. Good thing I didn’t want to bother arguing…
“Alright,” says Abe, and we walk underneath the overgrown entrance and through the front door. We head for the receptionist… who’s the same as last time. Joy. Well, better just get it over with.
I reach for my knife and just barely notice the receptionist flinch. I almost smile, but his reaction’s not enough to make up for having to give up my weapon again.
I detach the scabbard from my belt and place it on the desk. “You know what to do with it.”
He smiles with his mouth, but not his eyes. “Thank you for your cooperation,” he says as he takes the knife. I nod and silently wish for an accident to befall him later in the day.
I pocket my hands and begin heading for the stairs. “You can leave now,” I say to Abe. “I’ve wasted enough of your time.”
“O-oh, no, it’s nothing,” he chuckles. “As long as you get help.”
I stop.
What did he say?
I turn around, but he’s hurrying to the exit already, avoiding my gaze as he stutters his goodbyes. “Yeah, um, hope it goes well. See you later!”
He slips away before I can think of the right way to word the question on my mind. All I’m left with is a tense silence as the receptionist no doubt struggles to restrain himself from some kind of remark. I decide to start climbing the stairs before either of us ends up losing control.
Get help. Get help for what? How have I appeared to be in need of help? I’m perfectly fine. Well, okay, I’m not, but Abe shouldn’t know that. He should only see me as kind of a grump, not as the bloodthirsty predator I actually am...
Hold on. Now I remember something the psych said last time. That Abe had told her I’d seemed ‘unhappy’ and ‘on-edge’, or some other words to that effect. And he mentioned my ‘violent tendencies’, which is bullshit because he only knows about that through word of mouth at school. Is this all he needs as an excuse to force me to get my head checked? Speculation and rumors? That doesn’t sound like Abe. He can’t have made this decision on his own. Someone else must have --
Of course. It all makes sense. This is the work of that puppy crush of his, Alice. That’s why Abe could bring her slaking friend to make sure I didn’t skip the appointment last time. She has her fingerprints all over this. She’s convinced herself I’m some kind of mental case to explain my occasional odd behavior and spread that belief to Abe, and now she’s gotten him to pressure me into psychoanalysis. She must feel so smart. So altruistic, too. The psycho will get his treatment and the rest of society will be safe from him.
Well, unfortunately for her, I feel the best I have in weeks. I’m going to utterly charm that shrink with my normalcy and return with clean papers. And Alice will have to admit she was wrong. Though I suppose she technically isn’t. I pretty much am a psycho. It’s just that she shouldn’t assume.
Having reached hallway E on the third floor, I pick a chair and sit down. It’s the one furthest away from the table. There’s really no way that spider is still there, but… well, it doesn’t matter. It’s my ass and I get to choose where I put it.
Since the hallway’s empty, I can safely remove my mask without anyone scolding me about it. I tuck it in my pocket, and it’s like it was never there. Like I’d just conveniently forgotten it. Shame about all the people I’ll infect now. I hope their number is high.
A minute or few later, Dr Marsh’s door opens, and the psych in question steps through. She calls me in, I get up and enter, all as predicted - though her clothes are different from last time. They’re still black and white, though, and those red glasses and scarf haven’t gone anywhere. She knows her signature.
Once we’ve seated ourselves on the green armchairs, she opens her notebook and asks what is sure to be the first of many questions. “So, I heard you’d gotten sick. Feel better now?”
“Wouldn’t be here if I didn’t,” I say with a smile. Stupid bitch.
“That’s good...” She writes something in her notes. I don’t understand her priorities.
She straightens her white wool sweater, then looks back at me. “So… you mentioned last time that you’d given up school to take care of your sick friend, correct?”
Damn it. I was hoping she wouldn’t bring up the omanyte anymore. “Correct.”
“And you spend most of your time tending to Him, then?”
I’ve set myself up for a ‘yes’. I suppose I’ll have to give it and only hope Abe hasn’t said anything contradicting. “Also correct.”
“Is it your parents that support you, then, or some other party?”
I suppress a sigh of relief. No accusations yet. Though it’s not like parents are among my favorite topics, either… but, really, what kind of shrink would this woman be if she didn’t bring those up at some point?
“Primarily, it’s my mother and stepfather that provide for me, my brother and my mon companions, but Fonz also takes short jobs from time to time,” I reply. “Fonz being one of those companions.”
“I see.” She writes something down in her notes. I guess that answered something she had in mind. I hope in the right way.
As I shift my position for comfort, I realize I’ve crossed my arms and legs. Should they remain this way? It can appear hostile. But it also shows defensiveness. Are more people comfortable or uncomfortable in a situation like this? Should I untangle my limbs only later on to give the illusion that I’ve warmed up to her?
Gods, people are so much harder when their guard is up. Maybe I shouldn’t overthink this. Maybe that in itself will make me seem unnatural.
Dr Marsh raises her gaze from her notes, and that's my cue to listen up.
"Would you describe yourself as impulsive?" she asks.
Oh, we're back into those form-questions again, it seems. Boring, but safe. "No, not really."
"Are you irritated easily?"
"I wouldn't say so."
"Have you ever stolen anything?"
Stolen? “Where did this come from?”
“It’s just a standard question. Don’t think much of it.”
I doubt it, but this’ll all be over faster if I just go along with it. “Well, no. I haven’t stolen anything.” Probably have, but the less I think about it, the less I’m technically lying.
"Did you have many friends at school?"
"A couple." That's standard, right?
"Do you still spend time with them?"
"...Not as much, but yes, occasionally. Like when Helix is at school." Proud at that quick thinking, I almost smirk. People love it when you tie things together.
"Aren't they at school?"
Ah. Should've known nothing would be that simple with her. "During recess."
"Those seem like good friends."
Seems like she accepted that answer. "They are."
"Have you ever been in a relationship?"
What, are you interested? "No." I see no need to lie. While society loves to see people jam themselves into relationships - there’s an entire holiday to applaud those that give in to their hormones - statistics are still on my side. There are plenty of guys my age that are interested in more important matters or simply unlucky when it comes to the dating game.
She withdraws to her notes again. I take the time to let my eyes wander around the room, refresh my brain a little bit. It's not terribly interesting, but --
Something moved.
In the little dark crevice at the corner of the ceiling, something moved.
Was it a fly? Or was it --
Long, pointy limbs stick out, and the ugliest of critters crawls onto the wall. Yep, a spider. Gods… is this building especially alluring to them somehow?
Whatever. As long as it stays all the way over there, it doesn’t matter.
“Alright, Mr Akai,” starts the psych, drawing my attention back to her face. “I must be frank. I do not believe you’re being honest.”
What?
No, don’t stop to think, respond, respond!
I reach an awkward hand behind my ear and scratch. “Uh…” I chuckle. ”Sorry, what do you mean?”
"I have a knack for lie detection," she says, leaning back, "but I'm not making this accusation purely off a hunch. I know you haven't been speaking the truth."
I grasp the arm of my chair a little tighter. "How so?"
"I had a long chat with your brother in preparation for this appointment. He let me know about a lot of things - especially how you've barely said a word to your omanyte friend in months."
My heart jumps.
She knew. She knew and she led me on regardless, only to uncover it now. And it's… it's exactly what she did last time, too! Why didn't I see it? Why didn't I --
No, don't dwell on that now. You need to fix this.
I sit up straighter. "Well, I mean… it is true I've been more distant to Him lately, but that's because He asked me to do that. He felt like He'd been spending too much time with me, and that We should take some time off apart. He wanted to become more independent, too. You know how it is." Please know how it is.
"Well, that would make sense," she says, "but I talked with your friend Mr Fonz as well, and he said the reason behind the silence between You two was some incident back in February. He didn't go into too much detail, but he mentioned that he would have expected you to start talking to Helix again by now - and that Helix agreed."
Fuck. First Abe, now Fonz - can't those fuckers keep anything private? Just how much did they tell her? Did they really give those details? Is she just setting me up for another pitfall? How am I supposed to respond --
The spider in the corner moves. It’s coming down the wall. And behind it, from the crevice it crawled out of, new legs emerge --
No, the spider isn’t important! Focus!
“Mr Akai?”
Fuck! You’re not helping!
My glare makes her recoil. Shit. No, I can't let her see she's getting to me. Look down at the floor and calm down. You haven’t said anything incriminating yet. You can still make it through this.
"I'm sorry I have to pry into private matters like this," she continues, "but your close ones believe it's relevant to your mental wellbeing, and that means it's relevant to a thorough analysis."
‘Sorry’. Bullshit, you’re not sorry. This is a game for you. Catch the patient lying, force them to reveal their secrets. Ring up the police and reap the glory as they cart away the nutjob. Oh, what a hero you are!
“I would appreciate it if you were honest with me from now on. You don’t have to share everything, only what you’re comfortable with - but please, don’t try to give a false impression. I’m going to be able to tell anyway.”
She speaks these words in a comforting voice, but she must know that the implication is anything but. Nevertheless, I give a defeated nod. It’s not like I have a choice.
“Now, this silence between you and your omanyte companion… how do you feel about it?”
Well, how do I answer this? The Red that cared for the omanyte would be devastated. The Red that must no longer care for the omanyte would not be bothered. Problem is, both lead to further prying from the psych. If I was so attached to the omanyte, it wouldn’t make sense for me to keep my distance for so long. If I wasn't that attached to the omanyte, that'd contradict Abe and Fonz's testimonies and make her question why I'd change my attitude so drastically. And the answer to that is a door to all my deepest secrets…
So is it attachment, then? It’s the lesser of two evils. But how am I going to motivate staying away from the omanyte while still making the psych think I’m normal and don’t have any problems?
...Maybe it’s already too late for that.
Maybe revealing that secret is the only way to protect the others.
“It’s… it’s complicated,” I finally say.
“Complicated?”
I feel the vertigo of standing at the edge of a cliff, but it’s either this jump that’ll break my legs or dropping from a plane without a parachute.
“The incident that Fonz was talking about...”
I go back to February, to that day, to that moment.
The omanyte stares at me with eyes wide as plates as I babble on about my delusions. He’s trembling.
No, not He, it. You may be thinking back to a time when it was still a He, but now He is an it.
Alright. It is trembling, trembling because it doesn’t understand why I’m acting the way I am. Why I threw away its phone. Why I told the omanyte that it was in danger, that the phone would kill it, when phones had never been dangerous - it was always the computers, and only at the Centers. And only because of the Twitch. Which happened six years ago. And never since.
“Do you know what happens to computers when you’ve got the Twitch?” I ask.
“They begin malfunctioning, don’t they?”
I nod. “Yeah. The pokéball storage system doesn’t work. It traps the mon in their balls, and it makes the unregistration feature...”
“Break them.”
I nod again. She’s done her research.
“Well,” I continue, “knowing that, having no control over your body, and your companions being trapped with you… you naturally develop a fear. At least, I did. A fear of… screens, user interfaces. Very inconvenient in this day and age.”
“Certainly.”
“And when a companion of yours is just… browsing away on their smartphone, and you take a poor trip down memory lane...”
I grit my teeth. But this is the price I need to pay to still walk out of here a free man.
“Well, you freak out. You think that phone’s another death machine. You take it and… throw it away. And when they question you, when the others join in to ask you what the hell you’re doing, you tell them you were mistaken, that the distortion never went away, that you just wanted to believe it and got careless… and that little omanyte is going to become very scared.”
A short silence.
Does she believe me?
“I see,” she finally says. “So that’s what happened.”
It sounds like she believes me. It sounds like she wants to ask more about it. I sigh in relief. Finally, I catch a break.
“So… you scared your omanyte companion, and now you feel like you should stay away?”
Yes. Precisely, yes - that’s how I felt before HE ordered me to drop my attachment completely. I nod with my neck far less tense.
“From what Mr Fonz said,” she begins, “it sounded like Helix did not want you to stay away. Were you aware of that?”
Oh, this is perfect. This is the resolution that’ll satisfy her, make her feel like she really solved a problem, that she mended yet another person’s life like the savior she is.
“I wasn’t,” I breathe out in realization. “I thought I’d ruined it all, that I’d...” I chuckle at my own naivete. “But I guess I just let my fears run wild, and now...”
I plaster a sickeningly wholesome smile on my face. “I can just go to Him.”
It.
Right. “It.”
I freeze.
The blood drains from my face.
She didn’t hear that, did she? Just in case she did, I should...
“I mean Him.”
...No. That was the worst thing I could have possibly done.
I nail my gaze to the floor and seal my lips tight before any more reckless, life-ruining words can get out, but for the split second I could still see the psych’s face, I knew it was already too late.
“What was that?” she asks, but it’s clear from her tone that she'd heard each word.
Clinging to whatever control I have left, I give no answer.
But what’s she gonna think about that? It's only gonna confirm her suspicions. Instead, I should pretend like I never said that at all. No - that’s suspicious, too. And if she can detect my lies when I’m doing my best, she’ll undoubtedly see through that act. Shit!
“Did you refer to Him… as an ‘it’ right now?”
She’s going for it. She’s going for it. Oh Gods.
As much as I dread seeing her expression, I have to check. I give her a glance. I see confusion, but more strongly, intrigue.
But if that wasn’t enough, there’s something else - something on her shoulder. Something black and many-legged. I check the back wall -- empty. No Spider One, no Spider Two. It’s fair to assume the one on the psych’s shoulder is one of the two - but where’s the other one? Is it near me? Is it --
“Mr Akai?”
She forces my eyes back to hers and, consequently, my attention back to the conversation. Right. I can’t stay quiet. I have to say something. I have to at least try. Maybe stall for time first?
“Sorry, what?” I say in the most casual way I currently can.
She leans back. She’s not repeating the question. Did she decide it was just a silly slip of the tongue with no underlying cause? Could I be that lucky?
“You’re very nervous all of a sudden,” she says. “Are you perhaps… afraid of being diagnosed with something?”
Is that common? It might be common. I doubt normal people like being branded as abnormal. Yes, I may have a shot with this approach. If what I say is partly true, perhaps she won’t sense any lie.
That confidence lets me relax my posture a bit. “Well… yes,” I say, clasping my hands together. “I wouldn’t want you getting any wrong ideas about me.”
“Oh, I am a trained psychiatrist. You can trust my judgment.”
Trust you to get me locked up so you can clean the blemish off your perfect society. Sure, I’ve killed. Sure, I’ve tortured. I am a criminal. But am I really expected to believe you’d just let me walk out here totally free had I done none of it and only had the urge? That you’d stick to human rights with someone you brand inhuman?
She shifts in her seat. “I want you to know, Mr Akai, that a diagnosis is nothing to be afraid of. On the contrary, it’s better to be diagnosed with something than to remain unaware. That way both you and the people around you can understand you better.”
Oh, shut up. I already know everything I need to know about myself, and HE knows the rest. No one else needs to know a goddamn thing.
At least she’s focusing on convincing me of this now. Maybe if I keep her busy with it, our time will run out before she can get to actual conclusions, and I’ll be able to come up with a million one and one reasons why I can’t show up by the next time she wants to see me.
Once again, I shield myself with the truth as I ask my next question. “But won’t being diagnosed with something make people… want to avoid me?”
“They don’t need to know if you don’t want them to,” she says. “All of this is confidential. Not even your brother or your parents can find out if you don’t want them to, as long as there’s no pressing reason they should for their or your own safety.”
Hm. Better not let her find out how often I’ve dreamed of killing my mother, then.
“What would those reasons be?” I ask, my expression unchanging in its concern - but on the inside, I lean back and lift up my feet with a smirk on my face. As long as I’m asking her questions, she can’t ask hers. I’ve found the path out of the labyrinth, and the light of freedom’s coming ever closer.
Even the spider’s retreating. It crawls onto her back, out of sight. Excellent - it’s very likely going to be squished the next time the psych leans back again.
“If you told me, for example, that you frequently thought about hurting other people or yourself and expressed having difficulty fighting back these urges.”
“I see.”
“Do you have urges like this?”
I --
Do not answer directly. Conceal your true feelings.
“That’s quite a question,” I laugh. “Do you see me as someone that would?”
"Don't take it personally," she says. "This, too, is a rather common question. For safety reasons, you see."
"I see." I suppose.
"But I will admit…"
What? What?
"Your brother's mention of those 'violent tendencies' did partly motivate the question."
Shit. Right. She did say Abe had told her something like that before. What did I answer then? Surely I must have dismissed it - but if she's bringing it up again, she must have not believed me. Knowing now how she can detect lies - likely not perfectly, but to some extent - it makes sense. And she's already caught me lying more than once now.
"We didn't really get to go through those last time," she continues. "I'd like to talk about it now, if that's okay."
If that's okay… so I could say no? Actually refuse to answer? Why would she give me that option --
Ah, of course! She must be asking this in case those experiences were too painful to bring up. I mean, it's not like mine were anything enjoyable. Mostly I fought against the students that would talk shit at me…
Which makes it the self-defense of a victim of bullying. Which makes it a perfect sob story. Yes! I'm going with this.
I give a shy nod, avoiding her gaze. "Sure."
"In what kind of situations did these tendencies manifest?"
"When being bullied, basically," I sigh. "Some other kids recognized me as a target, I suppose, and it only got worse when they found out they could exploit my anger and get me into trouble for being in fights."
Conveniently, I leave out the part about the guy I paid to act as my personal punching bag each Monday to help curb my bloodlust for the rest of the week. It's not like I look back at those times with the joy I used to, anyway, given the last time I saw the guy, he really fucked up my plans… and just because he couldn't keep his mouth shut. Even when that was clearly part of our agreement...
"What do you think made you a target?"
"Well, you know, being the lonely, quiet kid… easy pickings."
"Were your friends not around those times, then?"
What friends?
Oh. Oh Gods, right.
"They, uh, they… yeah, they weren't. I wasn't with them all the time, you know."
Her eyes narrow just a little, but it's enough to know my story's shattered. She could tell I had no goddamn idea what friends she was talking about.
"There's no shame in admitting you had no friends, you know…" she says - but there's more to come.
"But I don't get any shame from you."
I swallow dryly.
She leans back now. "You're still trying to cover up, aren't you?"
Eye contact burns too much to hold. I drop my gaze to the floor, but that heat still radiates.
How deep is she going to dig? Will she not be satisfied before all trace of deception is gone? Before all that I am is on record? Before she's flayed me and counted each one of my veins?
Silence holds as I have no words left to say. Seconds later, she sighs.
"Perhaps it's my turn to be honest."
What?
My eyes leap back to her face, and her stare no longer blazes like before - but the relief doesn't last long as I see something that freezes me instead.
I see the thin black lines on her ear and my hopeful side says they must be stray hairs, but then they move and do it too quickly - they're legs, legs of a spider. The spider.
It's dragging itself across the ear, across her skin, but she shows no signs of noticing. Can she not feel it? Can she not hear it?
"Since you seem very concerned with what I think about you..."
Oh Gods, she's talking, I better pay attention.
"...I'll tell you what my current theory is."
Theory? About me? Is she -- is she giving the diagnosis, right now?
"The way you lie so naturally and seemingly without shame, how your brother talks of past violent tendencies, how you're possibly trying to reduce your friend to an it in your mind…"
I try to follow what she's saying, I try, I try, but the spider's keep crawling, now moving onto her cheek. How can she not notice it, why doesn't she notice it, why doesn't she flail and scream? Is the spider so light that it can't be felt? It has to be. But that means…
That means there could be one on me right now and I wouldn't know it.
I swipe across my face, then down my arms, then along my thighs, all with lightning speed to fling off any spiders, real or imagined. I only freeze once I remember where I am.
I check the psych's face. Startled, surprised. Explain this, quickly. What's the sanest reason?
Right, I guess it's pretty close to the real one.
"I-I'm sorry," I get out. "Felt a spider."
A painful second of silence follows - but it's dulled the moment she responds. "Oh, alright."
So that was normal. Normal enough, at least. I exhale in relief.
"So back to what I was saying…"
What was she talking about again?
Oh, wait. Oh shit.
Her eyes capture mine once more - and I flinch at the spider uncomfortably close to her eyeball.
"Those traits seem rather antisocial."
Antisocial. Anti, social. The opposite of social. Social means friendly, outgoing. The opposite is a misanthropic loner.
In other words, me.
She has found me out.
No, no, she hasn't! She hasn't found out about my bloodlust, my murders. She doesn't know the full story. Right now, all she can assume is that I prefer to spend my time alone. Nothing more.
"Do you feel that word describes you?"
How should I answer? No, I'll respond with a question again! Stall until I come up with another plan!
"H-how is that word d-defined?" No, don't stutter! She'll see through you!
"The most formal definition, I believe, talks of behavior sharply deviating from social norms…"
Her words become muddled again as the spider heads for her eye. My breathing halts. She can't possibly ignore what's to come.
"...and a persistent disregard for the rights and feelings of others. Informally, though…"
The spider reaches the corner. Its legs play with her eyelashes. She has to feel it. She has to feel it. She has to feel it so I can feel it. So I can know there's nothing on me when I feel nothing instead of gods know how many little legs are creeping on me, my skin… but there it is, lifting and lowering its legs undisturbed, just at the edge of her eye. If it goes any further --
"...people call a person like that a sociopath."
It steps onto the white of her eye. Squish.
"That's enough!"
The words, the roar, burst out before I could think. My muscles threw me off this chair to stand upright. My lungs, frozen before, now hyperventilate.
The psych stares at me with the shock I expected her to get from the spider - but that spider's now nowhere to be seen.
It fell off. It fell off, or it crawled inside her eye --
No! I claw at my scalp. Don't think that, it's not even possible, so don't torture yourself with the thought --
"Mr Akai?"
Her voice is calm. She shouldn't be calm. She's putting on an act because she's afraid of me. But she wasn't afraid of me before, no, she toyed with me. She's calm for another reason. She knows something I don't. She's pleased with how things have turned out. As if she --
"Did you plan this?" I spit. She flinches, she planned it. "You did. You-you trained them somehow to --"
Then she knows where that second one is, and she has some plan for that one, too, it must be on me --
I shake my whole body. I ruffle my hair, nails scraping the scalp to blood. Get off. Get off. Get off.
But wait! If she can command them, she can command them off me. I just have to threaten her, yes! I jerk up my head and turn to her, take a step --
She’s terrified.
She’s halfway off the chair, frozen in an awkward crouch. The angle of her position suggests she was heading for the door. To escape.
Me.
Because I’m acting crazy.
Slowly, I stand up straight. The room is either silent or the pounding of my heart just makes me deaf to all else.
Okay. Okay. What now? I-I just suggested she was somehow controlling spiders to fuck with me. That makes no sense. Why did I even think that? Am I losing my mind?
No, no, I’m just freaking out because I hate spiders so much. I admit it, I’m arachnophobic. Could she buy that as a justification? If she can tell when I’m lying, she should be able to tell when I’m being honest, too, right?
I let out a discomforted chuckle, unsure how much of it was natural and how much was feigned to enhance my act. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I assure the psych with hand motions and all, and I can see her settling back down on the chair, the fear in her eyes easing up. “I just really, really don’t like spiders and there’s a couple in here and they’re stressing me out, especially since they’re making it so hard for me to act normal which I need to do because in actuality, I’m --”
No.
No, what did you just say?
“You’re what?” asks the psych. She’s on edge, still, but her pen hand is trembling, trembling with triumph, I’m sure. I just all but admitted I’m a psycho. This was the final piece to the puzzle. I can no longer salvage this. I’m ruined.
No.
I can still make sure it doesn’t get any worse!
I sprint to the door, startling the shrink, but she doesn’t try to stop me. I grab the handle - and stop for a split second to reassure myself there are no spiders on it - and wrench the door open, pushing through to the other side.
“Mr Akai, please --”
“No!”
I throw the door shut and slam my back against it to keep her from coming out. Heartbeat bombarding my ears, I ruffle my hair again, ruffle to get rid of all real and imaginary arachnids. My body convulses with violent shudders. I shake myself like a mightyena after a dip in a pond. Only instead of water, it’s spiders. So many spiders.
I run to the end of the hallway, turn the corner, then run and turn another corner, then stop. There are nothing but hallways here. Nothing but white, no windows, no doors. I really should have bumped into something familiar by now if I was going the right way… should I go back to where I started and try again?
Oh Gods. Things just keep going wrong. I’m lost, I’m hyperventilating, and there’s probably people searching the building to detain me at this very moment. I just wanna get out. I wanna get out of here as soon as possible, before anything else goes wr-
Oh Gods no.
---
It was nice to see Red and Abe interact more, especially with Red being in a position of vulnerability with how physically sick he was at the beginning. Seeing his idea of gratitude and repayment for genuine kindness also made me crack a slight grin. Because somehow I just knew that it would involve giving people a slightly better chance at survival when the apocalypse comes.
His conversation with the psychiatrist was really good, even when you ignore the excellent use of the spider. Seeing him slowly lose his grip on reality was done well, especially concerning his conflicting feelings about Helix. Seeing how Red slowly but surely lost control of the conversation and kept contradicting himself and others was tense and I was always waiting to see what he would do next to try to regain control of the situation. As was mentioned in a previous review, the psychiatrist doesn't seem the most professional but since that seems to be what you're going for I can get behind it. Especially since you use it so well to move the plot along.
One critique I would have is that the psychiatrist decided to continue the session after Red's outburst when she was clearly terrified. Even with Red's internal thoughts believing that she was more interested in labeling him and trapping him, a part of me wonders if she felt more afraid of what would happen if she did try to leave.
That ending was also fantastic. Seeing how Red has dug his own grave and almost admitted what he was were really well done. I'm left on the edge of my seat wanting to see what else went wrong there at the end. A face from the past? A group of orderly's ready to catch him? Another hallucination? I can't wait to find out.
Overall, great job!
Glad you liked! And hope you'll enjoy what's to come, too.
