Billy staggers to his knees, weakened by whatever's hurting him.
You surge forward and kneel next to him.
"What happened?" you ask. Your eyes sweep over his arm and you recoil. The blood on his arm is actually black, not dark red. It looks unnatural and sickens you.
"Whoa, what?" you say. "Billy, did you get poisoned or—"
You don't have the chance to finish your sentence. He slams his fist on your head, knocking you out in one punch.
***
You are no longer yourself.
You are a monster in your own skin.
You awake in Brimborn Steelworks changed. Different. Reborn. You are surrounded by others who are changed like you: a twisted evolution.
Billy drives you back to the pool and hands you your car keys.
"Go home," he says, voice low. "But if He calls, you come. Got it?"
You do not say anything. This angers him. Black veins creep up Billy's face.
"Got it?!" he repeats.
You nod. You get behind the wheel and begin your drive home.
The Him Billy speaks of is the monster he put into your head. Into you. The dark voice cackles in your mind, taunting you, reminding you of all the ways you're a fuck-up but that it's okay, that He will help you reach your full potential. That you will be valuable to Him, that you will help Him finish what was started in 1979.
You do not know what that means. You park outside your apartment complex. You taste salt.
You're crying.
You feel yourself—your real self—still inside you, deep down, buried under the monster and His voice. It's clawing at your insides, screaming and begging to be released.
The monster pays it no mind. The monster walks you into your apartment and gets you dressed for bed and lays you on top of the blankets as stiff as a board, your arms folded across your chest like a corpse. When you fall asleep, you dream of drowning.
***
You go to work the next day. You mindlessly shuffle through your responsibilities.
You know you need help. The only person you can think of who could help you is Steve.
You think he could cure you of this, could fix this. Steve's capable. He's reliable. He mentioned once that last fall, he and three of the kids he babysits got attacked by an animal in the old junkyard. Steve was able to fight the thing off. Someone who can stay calm and handle a situation like that could definitely assist you, even if he found out you were possessed by a dark creature.
You know that He was still lurking in the recesses of your mind, waiting for a chance to pounce. So, in the forefront of your mind, you try not to think too much about your plan. You instead think about the ice cream you want to order. Cold, refreshing, delicious ice cream to counteract how hot and flushed you feel.
You head to Scoops Ahoy on your lunch break to talk to Steve. But he isn't there. The "sailor" at the cash register wears a nametag that says "Mickey."
Before he can greet you, you blurt out: "Where's Steve?"
"Uh, ahoy there!" Mickey says. His smile looks fake—he's miffed by your rude greeting. "Steve is out today. What can I do for you today, sailor?"
"I need Steve," you repeat. You practically have to force the words out. You can tell that He senses something is wrong, that He's paying closer attention to what you're doing and where you are and who you're looking for.
Mickey sighs.
"Like I said," he says, sounding much less enthused, "he's not here. Probably wanted an extra day of his holiday break. But I'm happy to serve you. Can I interest you in a Seven Seas Shake? It's a milkshake with seven secret flavors."
You feel Him trying to take control. He's angry that you're disobeying Him. When you look at your reflection in the freezer, you see a small black vein crawling up your throat.
You don't respond to Mickey. You turn and bolt out of the ice cream shop before you can hurt him or yourself.
***
You go straight home after work. You do not trust yourself to go anywhere else without Him activating inside you and forcing you to hurt someone.
You figure a phone call can't hurt, so you scan the phone book for the number of the Harrington residence. You call and scowl when you get their voicemail.
"Steve," you say sharply, "I need to talk to you. Call me as soon as possible. Bye."
As soon as you hang up, you feel a dull ache across your skull, like you've been hit hard by something. You let out a hiss of pain and stumble back.
You wonder if it's a migraine. Maybe it's a side effect of His presence.
You slap a bag of frozen peas on your head and stagger over to your sofa. As soon as you sink into it, your left shoulder erupts in pain.
Your eyes water. You frantically reach with your opposite hand to feel for a wound—but you don't feel any blood. Then, you realize it.
The others, you think. The others who are like me now. We're connected!
Someone is attacking the other people that He has attached himself to, your new brethren. You tremble in fright, worried that they're going to come after you next. Worried that if they do, you'll hurt them without wanting to.
If you can't get a hold of Steve, you need someone else who can help. You reach for your phone book, but before you can flip to a new page, the pain spreads across your nose.
You cry out. The pain doubles. Now, you feel it in your neck, like you've been given a tracheostomy with a serrated knife.
It's all too much. It's unbearable. And then, suddenly, it's gone.
For a long while after that, you don't do anything but sit on your sofa. You take deep breaths, trying to center yourself. Then, you stand, walk to your room, and crawl into bed for a restless sleep.
***
You call out sick for work the next day. When you learn on the news that someone attacked the hospital, killing all the orderlies and patients on the top floor, you almost faint.
The attack was definitely carried out by Billy or one of the other people he turned. It could've just as easily been you doing such a heinous act.
"I've gotta undo this," you mumble. "There's got to be a way!"
The creature nesting in your head senses your plan and tries to stop you, to keep you seated on your couch. But you resist His power and stomp to your bedroom. You yank open your bottom desk drawer and unearth a bike lock and chain.
Your mind wanders to movie nights with your dad, watching old-timey werewolf movies about a mild-mannered Joe Schmoe being turned into a bloodthirsty beast when the full moon rises. More often than not, the wolfman would try to stop himself by chaining himself up on the nights he was meant to turn. The smartest ones would use chains made of pure silver.
You aren't a wolfperson, but you are a monster of sorts, and you need to be contained. You wonder if this idea is smart or the dumbest thing you've ever thought of.
WHAT DO YOU DO?
A. CHAIN YOURSELF UP - go to page 17
B. SEARCH FOR STEVE TO HELP YOU - go to page 18