You just wait, she thought.
He pulled her sweat pants off in one quick motion, and was obviously rather pleased when he saw she wasn’t wearing any panties. “Look at that perfect little snatch,” he said, and then he spat on two fingers, and groped up between her legs, forcing them inside, pressing into her clit painfully with his thumb.
She closed her eyes and moaned a little for him. “Feels great,” she said. “Now, let’s do it.”
“Damn, you’re in such a hurry, you’re about to take all the fun out of it.”
“No point in wasting time,” she said, spreading her legs wide. “We need to get it done while we have a chance.”
“Fine then,” he said. “But it’s a damn shame to rush like this.” Then he climbed up on the bed and crawled into position. He spat a big wad of phlegmy saliva onto his palm, and used it to grease up the shaft of his penis. Then he spat again, between her legs this time, and used his fingers to push some of the slime up inside her.
She felt ill, but she was accustomed to fucking guys who made her want to throw up, and she knew how to hide it. She even managed to make a few sounds of pleasure as he put his crooked little cock in her and started pumping furiously.
As much as she hated it, she had to endure his efforts for a few minutes—at first, he was holding himself too upright for what she had in mind, but finally, as he started driving towards his climax, he leaned down till his face was directly above hers, close enough that she could taste his breath.
Immediately, she wrapped him up with her legs, locking them in tight around his upper hips so he wouldn’t be able to get loose. Then, without a speck of hesitation, she opened her mouth and sank her teeth deeply into his right cheek.
She had originally intended to go for his shoulder, which would’ve made it easier to calm him down if the whole thing backfired, but at the last possible instant, some bloodthirsty urge made her bite his face instead.
“Oh goddamn!” he yelled.
Then he punched her hard, right in the forehead.
She saw stars.
Half-a-second later, another blow came down in the region of her right eye, and a third one hit her squarely in the mouth.
Her lips slammed against teeth, and her mouth immediately filled with blood.
“You fucking cunt!” he squealed, his voice pitched like a little girl’s.
No, she thought. More like a little piggy.
She started to laugh.
He tried to get up, but she held him tight with her legs, and found that her strength was more than adequate—his efforts almost seemed feeble, actually.
Already she could feel the glands inside her throat filling up, which meant the voice from the radio hadn’t been lying when it told her that physical violence of any kind would trigger the venom, like a reflex. There were other ways to make it happen, supposedly, but the rest were more difficult, required practice and skill. The only sure way, the only foolproof way, was to let someone hurt you.
This single stipulation had been the basis for the whole plan, and she had gambled that it might be true.
Now she knew that the gamble had paid off.
“Let me go, goddammit!” he screamed.
She laughed again, then opened her mouth wide, and exhaled.
The black spray covered the skin of his face like ink, and then immediately started to vanish as it worked its way into his pores; it was almost as if the substance itself were alive and driven by some primitive instinct to penetrate.
The effects were more sudden this time than they had been with Chance. Right away he collapsed onto her chest and started to convulse wildly.
She kicked him off the bed, and he hit the carpeted floor with a muted thud.
The whole room shook slightly from the violence of his spasming. Then she smelled the unmistakable odor of urine as he lost control of his bladder.
Good thing I got him off my bed, she thought, and laughed again, enjoying the way the taste of her own blood mingled with his inside her mouth.
In truth, she felt pretty alright, and certainly didn’t seem to be much worse for wear. She could feel tight spots in the skin of her face—knots, she reckoned, from getting slugged—but the pain was a distant thing, hardly noticeable, like something happening in a dream.
A few seconds later, the room stopped shaking, which told her Bobby was no longer convulsing. For a moment she wondered if he was dead, but then she heard him breathing—slow and labored gasps, full of mucus, like someone with emphysema. From the pace of the breathing, it was obvious that he was unconscious.
“Nice work,” said the voice from the radio, which had now changed so that it was a little less like her mom, and, oddly, a lot more like the actress Jennifer Aniston. “You got him good—a face shot is the only sure way to score an instant knockout, so that was well executed.”
“Just seemed like the way to do it.”
“You really nailed him, but he won’t be out for long. We only have a few minutes to work, and If you have any angry thoughts about him at all in the meantime, you might cause him to burst into flames, which isn’t what we’re going for at all—it’ll only complicate matters if your house catches on fire before we can get out of here.”
“That won’t be a problem,” said Simone. “I’m not angry.”
“Really?”
“Never felt better. We tricked that motherfucker.”
There was a long silence from the radio. Then, when the voice came back, the tone was much less congratulatory: “The fact that you’re feeling so good about all this is useful at the moment. But this total lack of sensitivity isn’t a natural part of your personality. It serves a purpose right now, but you need to watch out.”
“Yeah, it seems like I’m definitely getting kinda mean. Probably not really a good thing, but I’ll worry about it later. Right now I’m a lot more worried about how in the fuck I’m supposed to get loose from these goddammed wrist-cuff thingies.”
“Yeah, that part’s gonna be a little more difficult. And more painful.”
“More painful than getting punched in the mouth?”
“Yes, I’m afraid so… Remember earlier today, your trip to Arizona?”
For a moment Simone drew a blank. Arizona? Then, she remembered her little hallucinatory dream sequence, with the pine trees appearing inside her house, and all that other crazy stuff. “Are you talking about that weird nightmare?” she said. “With the tall British dude?”
“That wasn’t a nightmare. That was an honest-to-goodness, authentic case of spontaneous teleportation.”
“You’re shitting me…”
“Nope. That’s something you can do. A talent you have. And it has nothing at all to do with all this other scary stuff that’s going on in your life. This is something you were born with. It’s an extraordinary ability, and you’ve been using a weakened form of it for years without realizing it. The whole thing is tied in with your hallucination problem. Unfortunately, it’s very complicated so we don’t have time to go into it in great detail right now. Suffice to say that your hallucinations occur because you’re opening tiny holes in the fabric of reality, and while those holes are open, all kinds of non-physical things—thought forms, random mental artifacts, and other things—get sucked into the real world. Since these aren’t actual physical objects, most people wouldn’t be able to see them at all, but, in addition to your ability to put holes in the walls of the universe, you also have another gift, commonly referred to as the second sight, which basically means you can see things that other people can’t. For example, you probably wouldn’t have any trouble seeing a ghost if you ever ran into one.”
“So I’m like that little kid in The Sixth Sense?”
“More or less, only you can also rip holes in the fabric of creation.”
“I don’t know,” said Simone. “Sounds like some nerdy shit from a fantasy novel or a video game.”
“I’m sure it does. But just for now, because we’re in a hurry, let’
s pretend I’m telling the truth. Do you understand the basic idea?”
“I guess… I’m pretty well versed in nerdy fantasy bullshit.”
“Good. The main point is, what you did today when you went to Arizona, was different than anything else you’ve ever done in the past. Everything that you saw there, and everything that happened, was 100 percent real in an actual physical sense. Instead of making a tiny pin-hole leading to some non-corporeal level of existence, you made a gigantic tunnel leading to another real place in this world. Which would be a pretty incredible accomplishment all by itself. But then you did the much more impressive feat of forming a small private universe around yourself, like a bubble, that you used to fold space like a piece of paper and draw the two distant locations closer together.”
“I made a universe?”
“I know it sounds crazy, but yes, that’s what you did. When the pine trees appeared in your kitchen, you weren’t actually here at all, and you weren’t in Arizona either. You were in a little world of your own that was a blend of the two places, and that world was gradually becoming more and more similar to the location in Arizona, so that eventually it began to harmonize with that location, and the harmonization allowed the two places to connect physically. That’s why, initially, everything from Arizona was ghostly and insubstantial, but then the situation reversed, and you ended up falling through your own front porch. What you may not realize is that Myra and her mercenaries were watching the house the whole time, and they never even saw you walk outside, because at that point you weren’t even in this world anymore. You were in your own little reality bubble. And consequently, the soldiers were all pretty damned confused later on when they noticed you asleep in the grass. Myra was alarmed enough that she actually sent one of the men to sneak up and make sure you were breathing, and she was trying to decide whether or not she should come out of the woods herself and carry you inside. She probably would’ve done it too, but then she heard a car coming, and it turned out to be Chance.”
“But when I was in Arizona, the British man definitely did see me.”
“Yes, because you sucked him into the bubble universe with you.”
“This is fucking crazy.”
“Mindboggling, right?”
“It’s probably just straight-up science-fiction. But even if it’s true, you have to understand, I didn’t actually do any of it. It just happened. I didn’t know what the fuck was going on at any point.”
“Yes, I’m aware of that. The truth is, you and I did it together. I reached into your mind and triggered everything, but the power itself came from within you. Unfortunately, I’m not allowed to do that again, but if you knew how, you could make it happen yourself any time you wanted, and you could even control it.”
“But I don’t know how.”
“Actually, on some level, you do. You’ve been doing it for years and years. Every time you hallucinate, you do it.”
“But I don’t control that. My hallucinations just happen. I don’t have anything to do with it.”
“I know it seems that way, but in reality, a very deep part of you is always in control; a part of yourself that you’ve never met. And that part has been practicing for a long time, preparing you for this moment.”
“But that doesn’t tell me anything. How do I actually do it?”
“It’s easy. Like breathing. All you have to do is dig deep down inside yourself, and reach for the physical pain that comes right before you hallucinate.”
“Reach? How the hell do I reach for something like that?”
“Just think about the pain, about the way it announces itself, about the little warnings that tell you it’s coming. Then when the pains come—and they will, because they must, because you’re in really deep shit and there’s no room for error right now—I want you to think about the kind of place you’d rather be instead of here. Let your mind seek out and find a sanctuary. A place for rest and for safety.”
Simone started to panic. “I don’t understand. I don’t know what you’re asking me to do.”
“I’m just asking you to chill out Simone.” The voice suddenly sounded exactly like her mother again. “Believe me, you can do anything you set your mind to. You’re a very clever girl, and you have all kinds of potential. I’ve always known you would do something special with your life. I always believed in you more than you can ever imagine. So, calm yourself down, close your eyes, and let me talk you through it, step by step.”
Simone was annoyed by the change back to her mother’s voice. “What are you trying to do? You’ve already admitted you’re not my mom.”
“But maybe I was lying when I admitted it. Maybe I really am your mom after all. How can you know for sure? And anyway, who cares? Just stop worrying. Forget about that. Forget about everything. Just close your eyes, relax your body, and do exactly what I say.”
Simone felt a strange urge to argue some more—there was something about this whole idea, the concept of trying to trigger her hallucination symptoms on purpose, that she found upsetting on a very deep level, but she knew she had to take advantage of this opportunity.
I have to get away if I can… No time for being a chicken shit.
She closed her eyes, feeling very vulnerable as she did so, and weak, and afraid. “I’ll try,” she said.
“That’s my brave girl. Don’t worry. I’ll keep you safe. First you just need to take a deep breath, and let the tension go out of your body.”
“But how can I do that? He’s gonna wake up any second now, and then Myra’s gonna come up here…”
“We still have some time. More than enough. And relaxing is easy. Just take a deep breath, try to let all your muscles go limp if you can.”
Simone tried to do as she was told.
It made her think about previous experiences she’d had trying to meditate. She’d never been able to really do it successfully. It always started off great, but then she’d get this drifting sensation, like her body was falling down in a hole, and something about that feeling terrified her, which, of course, knocked her instantly out of the experience.
She expected this to go the same way, but the radio woman spoke again before she had much of a chance to get into any kind of trance. “That’s good,” she said. “You’re plenty relaxed, just keep breathing nice and slow, and I want you to start thinking about the pain, about how it begins. How does it begin Simone?”
“Always starts in my stomach.”
“Good. Now, I want you to think about the way it feels in your stomach. Exactly how it feels.”
Simone had always thought of it as a fluttering sensation, like something alive was crawling around in there.
She tried to remember that feeling. Sometimes it got bad enough to make her feel a little nauseas, other times it was more like a little rattle, just beneath her belly button.
“No,” said the radio woman. “Your thinking about it like your trying to analyze it or something. You need to pretend that you feel it. You need to imagine that it’s happening. Feel it in your stomach the way you would feel it in a dream.”
She tried, focused on her stomach, took her mind back to the last time she’d felt the sensation…
Yes… the feeling was exactly like she just ate something that didn’t quite agree with her…
Ahh, there it is, she thought—a little twinge right below her navel, spreading out until an unpleasant warmth filled the rest of her stomach.
She focused on the sensation, and soon it took on a life of its own.
Yes. It was really there, not just in her mind, and it was coming now. Building.
“I think I did it,” she said.
“Yes honey, you’re doing just fine.”
A few seconds later, the little needle-stabs of agony began, just above her eyes.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
“That’s it Simone, you’re doing it. Now’s the time to focus on the idea of a place, the kind of place that would make you happy, somewhere better than here. Don�
��t think of a specific place—you’re not ready for that yet, that hurts a whole lot more, and the pain will be too much for you to deal with. It’s better if you leave your options open, let your deep inner-self decide where to take you, just think of a vague idea of the sort of place that would make you happier, and think about it real hard, go deep into your mind and pretend you’re in a better place, think of how it would feel.”
Simone tried to think of the sort of place that would make her happy right now.
Her first impulse was to try the obvious idea: a meadow full of wildflowers, with a pretty little stream running through it and all that jazz, but as soon as she tried to put that image into her mind, she was instantly repelled.
A bright sunny meadow was the opposite of what she wanted right now. In truth, what would make her happier was a place with even more darkness, a place where she was even more alone.
Yes. A place where no one could find her. Not Myra or anyone else. A place with secret blacknesses for her to curl up in.
She focused on this imaginary concept, and instantly the pain got worse.
Much worse.
“Oh god! Oh fuck!”
“Yes it hurts, but don’t stop Simone. That means it’s working. Keep on thinking about that other place. That’s the best way to stop the pain.”
“Oh hell! It’s too fucking much!”
“It’ll only last for a minute, and then you’ll be right as rain. The harder you focus the faster it’ll stop.”
She gnashed her teeth, and bit back screams that would’ve surely summoned Myra, and tried with every fiber to keep her mind centered on the idea of that elsewhere spot, that dark little hole that would be perfect for all her current needs.
She thrashed around wildly, nearly wrenching her joints out of socket, and her heart pounded in her chest so hard it felt like it would break her ribs, and then it got so bad that she almost cut loose with an ungodly wail of agony.
Almost.
But in the end she managed to hold it back.
And then finally, she felt something snap in her mind—the same sense of something coming apart, like flesh being ripped, that she’d felt right before the weird Arizona thing happened.
The DARK Trilogy: Titan's Song Chronicles Volume 1 (Books 1 - 3) Page 20
