Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter, and all characters therein, do not belong to me! They belong to JK Rowling; I've merely borrowed a few of them for a little while. Blacksun, however, does belong to me. Noone else would tolerate her.
Meh, no warnings needed.
A Beginner's Crash-Course to Dimensional Travel
By CalamityM
Chapter 3: Patience is a Virtue.
"Either way you turn
I'll be
there
Pull out your skull
I'll be there
Climbing up the
walls"
- Radiohead, Climbing Up the Walls
There are two main forms of panic. One is the screaming frenzy of mindless, repetitive activity; such as running around in a circle, chewing your fingernails, gnawing on your bottom lip, pulling out your hair in handfuls, or just screaming and bouncing up and down on the spot; or simply running away until your legs give out. The other is a quiet, unsettle sort; in which case you sit and stare, wide-eyed and petrified, at the opposite wall until your hair turns white.
I'm not quite sure with one is healthier, but at the time I didn't have any real choice: my brain made its own selection.
I stared at the red door, not out of curiosity, but simply because it was there in front of me. I was thinking in the insane, scrambled sort of way that shuts down all the motor-functions than the necessary ones, while you brain rants at you. I guess there are worse things than being trapped inside your own head while unknown, and possibly violent and horrible, things are happening to your body. But I was buggered if I could think of a single one.
No wait, there was one; being conscious when violent and horrible things are being done to your body; but then again, at least you weren't in for a nasty shock when you woke up!
So I sat and stared, all the while wondering where Blacksun had gone to. I had my suspicions, none of them good and all of them increasingly more worrying the longer I thought about them; hence the panic. She couldn't have… No, no that would be bad. It would explain a few things, but at the same time it could possibly be worse than the alternative horrible things that might be happening to me in the waking-world; then again…
And round and round it went, the running ménage of half-formed questions and half-arsed answers that fills your skull when you're anticipating something terrible. I sat and stared, and worried, and whimpered; mainly because there wasn't anything else I could do at that point. But one question in my mind always remained the same: what the Hell is going on?!
Where was I (my body, that was) and how the Hell did I get here? Who was that hooded man and why did he keep calling me 'muggle' all the damn time and why was he blowing shit up? Why do I get the feeling that I'm no longer in Australia? Why was there a white room in my head, with a red door in it? What the Hell was Blacksun doing here, when before she only existed as a character in my imagination? And most importantly; what the Hell was going on?!
What is GOING ON?! I thought, and the words bounced around the white room and echoed back to me:
…'sgoingon… goingon… ingon… gon… gon… gon…
Gone. A cold certainty slowly began to dawn on me, one I could no longer deny as the truth. She's gone up there! I suddenly realised just how deeply in the shit I was: I had been possessed; Blacksun had my body!
The very thought shook me from my stupor, forcing my brain out of quiet terror and into urgent madness. I couldn't let her have control over my body!
I leapt up in a sudden spur of action and searched the white walls frantically, pressing my fingers against the flat surface in an attempt to pry open an exit that just wasn't there. I beat my fists against the smooth, flat surface and swore loudly at the wall for refusing to be helpful. I stared longingly up at the ceiling, wishing desperately for an opening to suddenly immerge above me (preferably with the accompaniment of a ladder) so that I could escape. But nothing appeared. I felt the other sort of panic slowly begin to boil up inside me; the same sort of panic that also came from claustrophobia. I walked back and forth over the white floor, the same thought repeating inside my head like a mantra: I have to get out! I have to get out! IhavetogetoutIhavetogetoutIhavetogetout!!!
I needed to get out! The longer I stayed trapped here, the longer she had control over my physical form, to do with it as she pleased. But there was no way out!
Except… There was one exit I hadn't tried…
I looked over at the red door, its bold colour standing out strongly against the white of the wall it was set into. Something made me hesitate to open it. Some strong sense of foreboding that overshadowed my desperate need to leave the confines of my own unconsciousness. And somehow I knew that the red door was a way out, but not the right way out.
I walked closer to it, gazing apprehensively along its height and width, to the small, polished, red knob of a handle fixed at waist-height to its surface. It was a way out, but where did it lead?
My hands clenched at my sides, my fingernails digging into my palms, as I struggled with my instincts. On one hand, I had to get out, it was a necessity; I couldn't remain here while she was up there. On the other hand I couldn't go through the red door; there was some nagging doubt in my mind that suggested that it wouldn't be a good idea. I struggled for an answer, raising my hand towards the doorknob and then pulling away again in nervous reluctance. All the while my anxiety-fuelled thoughts were still repeating: I have to get out! I have to get out! I HAVE TO GET OUT!!!
And then there was a soft click from behind me and I turned around; there, in the centre of the back wall, a white door had appeared.
A/N: To be continued... (I realise I probably should have done this for all prior chapters, but I forgot. So there. ;p )
