Chapter 7: Lea
Was this seriously happening? This was insane. I couldn't believe it.
Now that I had stopped tripping out, I was questioning the whole situation. Plus, I was starting to think there was a hallucinative affect to that drug. There was absolutely no way I was sitting across from a man with no face, with one of his hands beside my neck and one of my hands hanging in front of his forehead.
It was getting increasingly difficult to keep that hand from falling. Max's drug was reasserting its hold on me. My body was falling limp.
The figure hadn't moved an inch. Only the memory of that lightning fast movement kept me believing it was alive. Still, I felt like a was face-to-face with Frankenstein's monster. Meaning I felt creeped out, but not threatened. More than anything, I was curious. Frankenstein's monster hadn't been evil after all. I had a feeling this figure wasn't either.
My breath was coming in hard gasps. My fingers trembled from the effort of staying aloft.
Suddenly, the drug overwhelmed me, and I slumped forward slightly. My hand dropped. Its fingertips brushed the figure's forehead.
It felt like a lightning bolt had entered my body through my fingertip. I could sense everything about him. Now I knew he was male. At least, he thought of himself as male.
Hundreds of years of memories were suddenly open to me.
I saw a shadowy place, blinding light, and hatred. No other emotions, just hatred of the light. And loneliness. Underlying everything else, overwhelming loneliness.
Red blood staining everything. The light going out. Bright stars that somehow don't hurt to look at, even though they're brighter than the light.
A little Chinese boy bent over a paper.
An African girl singing in a chorus.
Me, humming as I did my homework.
Something so unfocused I couldn't see or feel anything clearly.
Then, recently, an immense explosion of anger. Anger and fear. Then blood, blood staining him. Color, in a world of grays.
It's a small amount of knowledge for a lifespan of hundreds of years, but the sheer volume knocks me back.
I feel my eyes un-focus, darkness chews at the edges of my vision. The drug multiplying the effects of the mental shock.
Before I pass out, I hear a voice in my head, crackly with interference;
"Your…name….is….Lea?" He asks, his voice slow and shaky, as if from disuse.
Too disoriented for words, and not completely sure what's going on, I can only manage to send back a agreeing/pleased feeling that wells up almost of its own accord. And then everything goes black.