PACE (Practical Accessibility and Control of Emotions)

Chapter 9 Part 3

Elliot was now back on the large building he was on yesterday. Again the sky was blue, the air was harsh, cold and bitter.

“Nope. Not doing it”

“What?” Charlie asked

“Im not jumping, im not going to just try and fly”

“Why?” Razak asked

“Because my life is good now-“

“How?”. Elliot thought for a moment

“Everyone is good, and safe and nothing is coming to get me-“

“How do you know that? For all you know, we need someone to make sure that everything IS safe. Without that reluctance, we are bound by desolation-“

“From who? You still haven’t told me about who I’m actually ‘fighting’” Elliot asked.

“DeFantom. He was one of us, like you but he... changed...” Charlie began “...in some ways it was inevitable. He started to drink, self harm, tried to save too many people in a short space of time. He has started to kill people in our organisation, more and more frequently”

“Why?”

“He figured if you can’t save everyone, then why bother helping. So he decided to make matters worse.”

“Why don’t you just track him down with like DNA and stuff?”

“He doesn’t have one. Because he’s bent on destruction, and used PACE so much its numbed almost everything on himself. Like he’s lost and found... insanity.”

“So you want me to help kill him”

“Yes and no. We need someone to replace a person we lost.”

“So you don’t actually want me-“

“That’s not the case-“

“That’s what it looks like to me.”

Razak seemed exhausted. He felt sorry for Elliot, he realised how much he needed some way out of reality and that this was the only thing for him.

“Listen. Go home; you need to spend some time with your family”

“Yeah maybe I do.”

***

Razak teleported Elliot back to his house. He went through the door, not looking back at Razak. He felt angry and frustrated. As he went up to his room he felt disappointed in himself that he was too wimpy to try anything that would be cool to know. He closed his door and sat on his bed. Momentarily. Ryan opened his door. Looked at Elliot with flared nostrils, but sounded the same.

“Can you do me a favour?” He asked

“Yeah sure.” Elliot felt pity on him.

“Hold onto to this for me.” He held a pack of cocaine.

“How did you get this-“

“Are you gonna do it?”

“Yeah, okay.” He felt scared and nervous as he grabbed the package. Ryan left his room looking at Elliot with anger. Elliot placed the coke on his desk and thought about how wimpy he was. The pack seemed to open, invitingly. He saw a small tube in it. Admired it for a moment, and then he saw that a line was already set out for him. He didn’t know how. He certainly didnt do it. Or so he thought. He figured he should try something new. It would be, almost idiotic if he gave i back to Ryan without actually trying.

Time to man up.

Elliot innocently took the small tube. He looked at the grinded white powder and felt nervous. At some point he had to convince himself, he just had to know that he could really fly. Whether he had to get high, was another question. He felt the heaviness of the role. He placed it in his nostril and steadied himself as he leant forward to snort the powder. He did. He waited for it to kick in... The burning twitched and fizzed through his throat. Violently. It went into overdrive. He heard his heart beat and trip like a bass bumping, he swallowed, coated his throat with rough liquid, he wasn’t sure if he loved it, its healing movement or the deep drop of derelict. Cold sweat gathered around his face and it blinded him. He fell back into his bed and closed his eyes immediately.  A sinking feeling overwhelmed him and gathered in his brain, churning and burning from the rush and lush of the coke. He was under its spell. In the darkness he saw a mirror drift slowly towards him. He saw himself in it and tried to back off but he was cornered. Paralysed in every sense every emotion. He noticed as the mirror got closer he could run his heart beat. A rush of white noise overcame his mind momentarily. The mirror got closer and closer, further and further towards Elliot. Into his head. Chocking his throat. Burning his eyes and tongue. He felt empty and hollow. Lifeless, numb yet in pain and light. He saw in the mirror his face melting and moulding into someone he couldn’t recognise. Burning and scorching his face. His mouth tilted and went down. Ears drifting off his face like there was no gravity. Nose bending and rotating. Eyes going up. Up and up. Up and up. And up. Until he jumped bolt upright, opened his eyes wide and everything spread like an oil painting melting, dripping, ducking and diving. Breathing. Couldn’t stop. Breathing in. Until his veins in his neck where almost out of his body. His brain itched and scratched his whole body trying to escape the skin that barely fit him. He was getting nervous. Nauseous. He knew he had to calm. Down. He closed his mouth shut. Like there were magnets in his teeth. Locking his jaw. The sweat dried up. He shivered. Immensely. He was convinced he had died and came back again. Like he had meaning to everything. It was not the high he was looking for. Although, he realised that he liked the rush. “Fuck.”