Back at Square One (BEN Drowned)

6

I almost stumbled backwards. The TV must have been on for hours on end, maybe as soon as my mom went upstairs. But on the screen were bulky letters spelling out,

"Okay. Let's cut the shit. You obviously know who I am."

I furrowed my eyebrows, not exactly expecting this. "Subtle. I thought you were a little sneakier than this, honestly. Your last name's Lawman, right?"

"Of course it is. Wait, how do you know that?"

"Because I do. Ten year old me was a big fan of Alex Hall."

The screen seemed to almost pause. Then it read, "Who the hell is that?"

I was a little surprised. Of all people, you don't know who that is? "He's the author of your story. You know, Jadusable? Is this, like, your long-lost twin brother I'm talking to right now?"

"Can we not do this right now. I need to get out of here. This is exhausting."

I held up my hands. "Okay. Real talk, I would love to help you. But, real talk, how am I supposed to get you out of the TV."

"Okay. I probably should've phrased that better. I can leave here, you know. But I'm kind of tied to it. Can I just talk to you? Normally?"

I narrowed my eyes. Fine.

"Fine."

As soon as I said that, the whole room went dark. Little parts of the screen flickered on and off, and I shielded my eyes. The fuck?

"Done." A synthetic-sounding voice reverberated around the room. I gazed about 1 inch up from where I was standing and saw him.

"'Sup, Ben," I muttered, almost in shock. He definitely looked...different, than I'd expected. For one, his eyes weren't completely empty. They were more of a faded gray rather than pitch black. The pupils were vermillion, almost like it was some off-colored spinoff of the guy. Maybe he's not exactly insane anymore.

On a less symbolic note, his hair wasn't too spot-on either. Not that he was a "close the goddamn door" edgy brunet, but it was more of a dirty strawberry blonde look. I noticed he was just wearing some athletic shorts and a dark blue t-shirt with a hyper-realistic looking moon plastered on. He gazed at me with strange, calculating eyes.

"I swear to Lu--uh, to god if you comment on the hair--"

"Does it count if I did it in my head?"

"Yes."

"Swear to whatever-the-hell-you-were-gonna-say away, then."

Annoying as I was purposefully being, he actually looked like he was hiding a smile. "...Avery, right?"

"Stop acting like you don't know. Aren't you supposed to be a stalker?"

He seemed offended. "So that's what they're saying about me now?"

"Aren't you, though?"

"...shut up."

"Ha."

"You're just dying to know everything about me now, aren't you."

I scoffed. "Note how I'm choosing not to make an easy joke about you already being dead because I'm just that nice."

"Oh my god. Okay, enough. We could do this all da--"

He stopped dead (ha), like there was something caught in his throat. He clutched at his windpipe, and five seconds later he threw up pure water, or at least it looked like it. Whatever it was, it was disgusting. My eyelid twitched.

"...okay, so, not sure if you know this, but there's this thing called a sink--"

"I get it," he growled. His voice, as I failed to notice before now, had been almost hoarse. Now it was unbelievably clear, somehow even more so than if he was a real person. He sighed and balled his hands into fists. "I'm pretty sure you know only about half of what's happening, by now. So please just let me talk. Okay?"

Hesitantly, I nodded and sat down, listening attentively.

"Thank you. Now, where was I."