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CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE it's nice to have a friend.
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THE METAPHYSICAL MANIFESTATIONS of my past life have returned. I don't know if return is the right word to use, seeing as they never left, but there's something significantly more intense this time around. Everything looks too real, sounds too real, that I fear it might be true. Not like I can tell the difference between real and fake anyway.
I'm always stuck in the same place; the Island Club locker room. Possibly being there yesterday with Rafe tore open some loose stitches in my wounds — maybe even pouring salt into them, because the level at which my chest hurts is transcendent. With every step I attempt to take, I don't move, stagnant in the corner I've backed myself into.
Limited, I turn to eyesight as a last resort, looking around for any sign of impending doom. Then, I see it, unprepared despite the awareness of my actions; Jason. He's heading towards me, replaying a scene that I can vividly remember occurring at the start of this summer. He has a glass in hand, launching straight at me with it whilst murmuring inaudibly in anger.
I open my mouth to fight back, relishing in verbal power being the only thing I held against him, but nothing comes out. The knives I was trying to expel reject, swallowing back down my throat and scratching their way down. I clutch at my neck, still staring at him like a deer in headlights, just... waiting. Waiting to be struck, waiting to be killed, and waiting to be praised in death.
The only time I regain movement is when the glass in his possession dissipates in my direction, jolting me so hard that I wake, gasping breathless and scared. This time, my surroundings are unfamiliar, instilling further fear in me until a cold hand touches my shoulder, reassuring my sense of existence.
"Hey, what happened?" The voice that comes from beside me belongs to JJ, concern and a morning rasp running thick in his tone, "Carm, hey, look at me."
I swat him away as I sit up on the edge of the bed, my head in my hands, desperate to regain sanity, "Where am I?" I begin asking, "What the fuck is happening?"
