This is more inspired by then an actual fanfiction, but it's very heavily inspired so I decided it would go best under then FictionPress. Inspired by Entry #49 and #51, and the totheark uploads "Deluge" and "Broadcast"
One. Two. Three. Four. Four times.
The echo of the voice chanted in his mind, he had to remember what to do...
One
Two
Three
Four
He dropped the rock, and it hit the ground with a thud. The noise echoed down the tunnel, amplifying slowly as it traveled. But he was the only one who heard it. He was alone, after all. He ran a hand through his hair, sighing and closing his eyes, savoring the quiet... even if it was only for a few moments. His thoughts were his own.
He looked at the mess he had created... he wanted to leave, wanted to run screaming at the sight of- But at the same time... it was quiet in here. He was safe, there was no noises in his mind. He felt, for the most part, that much more sane each time he came here. But he couldn't simply live here forever... the tunnel would flood soon enough. And he had to find things to eat, other necessities. And there was always the stench.. the mess he had created, the smell of blood and sewage.
Enough to make him vomit if he thought about it too much.
He wiped his mouth, his labored breathing leaving small clouds in the air around him. Now the smell of bile was mingled with the smell of blood and sewage.
It was damp in the tunnel. A large square platform in the sewer, the only exit a small drainage pipe set near the floor. The walls around the tunnel exit were covered with blood splatters and graffiti of various sizes and types. The main sewage line ran to his left, but the current was too fast for that path to be usable.
This was his only exit.
He scooted out slowly, crawling on his hands and knees back to where he had come in from, away from the scene he had just created. His hands were cold from the small pools of water that had collected in the tunnel, his jeans and palms of his hands ripped and numb from exposure to the frozen concrete.
He reached the end of the tunnel, back in the main area of the creek. As soon as his head left the tunnel, the noise immediately filled his mind to a near-crippling extent. He screamed silently and held his head in his hands, crouched on the ground in agony.
You did not return to me in time. You did not meet your deadline.
The man looked up at the sky, baring his teeth. "No Shit. I don't want you in my head, and if being in that fucking place is the only way to get away from you then fucking fine! I'll stay in there until I drown!"
No you wont. The static returned to the normal level, which is to say that it was still screaming, but without the intense physical pain.
He stood, stretching in the cold wind and bracing himself, looking over the edge. The drop-off from the tunnel to the creek below was only two feet, but the creek was filled with nearly frozen grey-green water, still swirling in currents from the recent rain. He looked out over the tunnel, seeing the slope of rock, the large bridge that spanned the creek and hid the tunnel from the sight of The Other Man. He couldn't climb that. He didn't have time.
He doubled over, coughing into his hand. His palm was bloody. His throat was wearing raw from coughing so much. Add that to his list of symptoms.
Time's up. Jump.
He sighed, looking back at the sloped wall. Nice and dry- The buzz filled his mind again, the sound of static and screaming.
No. Jump. Jump now.
Now the man was frantic, taking a step back and stepping off the platform into the waters below. It was only a foot deep, but the cold water was already soaking his pants up to his knees. He was out from under the bridge now, an easy target for The Other Man.
And his clothes were covered in blood.
Clothes off.
It was too cold to take his clothes off, it was the middle of winter and he was up to his knees in sewage.
Covered in blood. Be seen or be free?
The man finally spoke, a low whisper. "Go the fuck away."
No.
The man stopped walking, letting his body temperature slowly drop as he stood still in the freezing water and wind. The water was up to his waist now.
He sat down in the water, leaning back until his face was below the surface, laying down under the water. God, it was freezing cold. He struggled to keep still, letting the current freeze his body. He looked up, at the gray sky and the trees that hung over the area of the creek he was laying in.
Not good. He was still being followed. He struggled to keep himself underwater, trying to force the voice to go away. His chest was tightening, his mouth struggling to open and gasp for air, but there was no air, only shit-filled water. He was loosing consciousness.
Finally, it was quiet. Not silent, but the screaming in his mind was whispering now. He relaxed for the first time in months. Then the noises in his mind started screaming again as the Other Man got closer and closer... The water around him splashed in a way that was not the current, and the man shut his eyes, willing himself invisible under the water.
Will not leave.
He opened his eyes, looking at The Other Man looming over him. The figure was black against the near-white sky, the image distorted by the rippling water.
The man began coughing again, loosing what little oxygen he had left. He gasped, sucking in water and stood up quickly, clutching his chest and gasping for air.
Will not leave you.
"Fuck you. Leave the fuck alone." The man choked out between gasps. His jacket was water-logged, so he struggled out of it and threw in the water, letting the current carry it back upstream, away from him.
Can't be rid of me.
The man cursed, kicking the water. "Wouldn't expect anything less, you bastard." He rubbed his face. "How long until I'm done? I'm done with you and the fucking killing people and the fucking memory loss and everything? How long until this is over?"
Forever.
"I gave you back your goddamn jacket. I don't have any more blood on me. I barely have enough blood inside of me anymore. Leave me the fuck alone, just for a day." The man looked on the edge of tears.
There was silence. The man sighed and continued walking upstream, shivering and rubbing his arms.
The Other Man would be back soon enough.