Back at Square One (BEN Drowned)

16

Walking outside with foggy, distant vision was surreal to say the least. I felt like I was in a movie. I expected everything to sound hazy, too, but the only things obstructing the noises around me were the tiny, quiet voices that would occasionally mutter to themselves. Ben would occasionally speak, but it was mostly just slightly awkward silence on the way to the park.

...so, uh...how've things been going with Charissa?

She's chilled out lately. Caught her little crew gossiping about how I've been acting weirdly at school, so whatever plans they have to humiliate me are probably on hold.

That's not very good, still.

It's whatever. Oh, did I ever tell you about that weird kid from Chemistry? Turns out he's named Jason, he's been hanging out with Meghan.

Not sure who Meghan is, but are you talking about that guy who asked all those weird invasive questions?

Yeah. He's not too bad, actually. Just...socially challenged, I guess. He's pretty harmless as far as I've seen.

Hm. Okay. Is this the place?

I stopped in my tracks, realizing that for the past couple of minutes I'd just been walking on autopilot. We had reached the park a little while ago. I nodded, a little embarrassed. Yeah.

Seems nice.

"Yep," I said out loud, slightly unaware of myself. I hadn't noticed it much before, but this park was actually very high in quality compared to the rest of my town. It had to have been at least 500 square yards in total, not including the little annex of a playground. Tree branches hung low everywhere, but as long as you weren't 7 feet tall you could just walk wherever and be fine. Sometimes a swarm of people walking their dogs would pass by, and you'd have to fight the overwhelming urge to pet and kiss every last one unless you were allergic. It was one place off of the street where the high school was that wasn't crappy, or a pizza restaurant, or a crappy pizza restaurant.

Not exactly where I'd expect to be hanging out with a dead electronic kid who happens to be possessing me, but I wasn't going to complain.

"...there should be a bench around here somewhere," I continued after a long pause. Today, the park was mostly deserted, save the few kids who were listening to music through big, vintage headphones and lounging around like they were trying to look mysterious. My "ew, pretentious people" instincts kicked in the moment I spotted them, and I walked in the opposite direction to find somewhere to sit deeper into the trees and foliage.

Like you're not just as pretentious, Avery.

At least I try not to be. I actually like graphic tees and shorts with leggings.

Mhm. Right.

Shut it, you. At least wait until I can sit down.

I eventually found a bench and collapsed into it dramatically, only then realizing that we had reached something of a dead end. I had no idea what to do next, and I could only assume he didn't either. We could try...uh...maybe you could try leaving my body and see if you get dragged back to the game?

I feel like that should be the last thing we do.

Why? You want to be free, this is the ultimate way to test that. If you can roam wherever once you're out of my head, then everything would be solved!

And if I can't, then this whole walk would've been a waste and I'd just have to wait for you to get back to your house to try something else. What if I tried sharing my memories? Or accessing yours?

Okay, also an extremely bad idea. It'd just be me at 13 years old, looking in the mirror and being like, "why's that there?"

You know, I—

Ben seemed to cut himself off, and I felt a burning sense of regret and embarrassment in the back of my mind for no reason I could see.

Can I feel his emotions now?

Probably. Just, forget I ever said that. I mean...

Ben. Is there something you want to tell me.

No. Well, yes. Well, I don't know, actually. I-it's really not important, it's not even real anymore and—

No secrets. Remember? If it's not important, then just tell me.

Ben stayed silent for a moment.

Cruel fucking irony. Fine. Just...I guess I should start at the beginning. Can I...?

He trailed off, and suddenly I was standing in a small kitchen with golden light streaming through the window. My vision was as foggy as before, not that I expected any different. But I almost staggered back when I realized I was probably still sitting on the bench; my view was just different.

Oh. Wait, where is this? What did you just do?

I heard him breathe in as if he was going to answer, but apparently he decided to stay quiet a little bit longer. I blinked twice, just to be sure I didn't have anything in my eyes, and that this was as clear as it was going to get. I still had a shitton of questions about this, like, did he know he could do this before? What was going to happen? Is this Ben's house or something?

I heard soft scribbling in the room next to me, and without even thinking my body just decided to head in that direction. It felt like I was on some sort of conveyor belt, but I knew I was walking. Just kind of automatically. As ridiculous as it sounds...shut up. I was having a learning experience.

As I entered what I assumed to be the living room, I spied a little kid laying across the couch with a clipboard, a blue ballpoint pen, and what must've been at least ten sheets of paper. They had pale-ish skin that somehow looked like it had been tanner before, and curly dark burgundy hair. Their face was smooth and round, making them look somewhat younger and more feminine for a body their size, but I could tell they were probably 11 or 12 years old. They looked so unlike the Ben I knew that I didn't even realize it was probably him at first. But I took one look at their expression and something told me they were one and the same.

He was borderline tearing into the paper with the pen, making haphazard diagonal lines across the sheet like he was trying to slice it in half. His eyes were narrowed in frustration and his nose was scrunched up in a way that made me wonder if he was actually drawing. On my own this time, I tried inching closer to him to see what he was making. I didn't feel especially worried that he'd see me; this was obviously some sort of memory that I was just passively existing in.

When I looked over his shoulder at the paper, all I could see were deep, harsh, dark blue streaks covering up some odd shape. It took me a good minute to realize that he was scribbling over a drawing of a crescent moon. My eyes widened as I remembered Ben's real story, and just as quickly I was dragged back to the kitchen as if I'd just seen something I wasn't supposed to. I didn't have time to question what the hell that was about, because my mind soon became preoccupied with something else. I was witnessing a quiet but heated argument between a woman who must have been Ben's mother (the tan skin and red hair gave me everything I needed), and and old man who looked near his eighties. I had a gut feeling that told me he wasn't normally welcome in this house. Something had happened recently or long ago to make Ben despise him.

And that same feeling told me I somehow knew why.