MaxAngelOfDeath: I'm glad!
Chapter 10, I'm pretty sure you aren't supposed to drink when you're on seizure meds, right?
Love, Keta.
Chapter 10: My Other Half Hates Me
Failure find me
To tie me up now
'Cause I'm as bad, as bad as it gets
Failure find me
To hang me up now
By my neck cause I'm a fate worse than death
- Sarcasm (Get Scared)
The explosion shakes the house, and my father and I have to dive down to escape the rush of heat that flickers to life above us. "I'm sorry," I whisper and feel a rush of shame burn within me. It's been almost a week, and I am no closer to controlling my pyrokinesis as I was at age ten. It's frustrating when the other things are starting to come easier… I can even fucking teleport, but I can't get control over my fire abilities.
"It's fine, Timothy," he replies, and he quickly gets back on his feet and sweeps his molten gaze around the room to assess the damages. "You didn't destroy too much this time, so we're making progress."
"How does this look anything like progress?" I ask him and sweep my arm out to encompass the entire room. The floor and walls are scorched, and there's a few holes burned through the wall that my father was standing against.
"You haven't scorched us in a few days."
"Don't jinx me!"
When my father and I stop training for the day, I slip downstairs to find Toby half-asleep on the couch beside Hoody who's reading a book. In his left hand is a glass of scotch, and we know that it's a bad idea… Alcohol is the last thing I need in my system right now. 'Relax…' I snatch it from his hand and down it, but it wasn't me who moved my hand.
"Tim!"
I look at the empty glass with mortification, and I can practically hear it laugh in the back of my head. My mind runs at a mile a minute, trying to process what has happened. "Oh, no…"
Toby opens his eyes and looks at up with wonder, and when he sees the tumbler in my hand, he says, "I thought you didn't drink, Masky."
"I don't…" I reply, and I can hear the shake in my voice. "It messes with my medicine." I shove the glass back at my friend and start heading downstairs into the cellar. "Don't let me back up unless I sound like me…" I tell them. "If it comes out, it might hurt you… It wants blood."
I should have known it would try to do something. It's grown more daring in the past few days as I call upon the things that brought it to life. It is the demon… Normally, when it takes over, I black out, and sometimes, I'm grateful for that. But for it to take over with me still conscious…
There's a devil's trap on the floor; I had made it large enough to encompass a small couch and television set. My father taught me how to make one, but I doubt it will hold my other half. Even so, I remain inside of it, watching a movie that I remember Jay liking. It's a really odd one, but he'd always laugh at the corny jokes.
It's interesting, just not enough to keep me awake.
"Hey, Tim?"
The heat blowing into the room feels wonderful, and I snuggle up under my blankets further as I turn to look at my unwanted companion. Jay's sitting on the end of his bed, tucking his laptop away, and a frown lies on his face, eyebrows furrowed deep. "What's wrong?"
"I was just wondering."
"About what?"
"The other guy," he replies and slides his bag under the bed. "Why doesn't he take over when you're awake?"
"Do you want him to?"
He pales considerably at the thought, and I must admit that I don't like the idea of it either. "No… Not at all… It's just, I've only been attacked by him after you've fallen unconscious."
"Maybe it just can't get out," I tell him and pull the blanket up further, a shiver running through me. "Maybe consciousness is like a cell door to it that's only unlocked when I'm no longer awake." That's a lie. It did things sometimes, when I was little, and I would be awake. I just didn't say anything. What could I have told my mother? My hand moved my pencil? My foot kicked her?
"Well, I'm glad. I don't want to be afraid of it when you're still here."
"Why aren't you afraid of me?"
He flashes me a bright smile. "Because you're a good guy, Tim. You're better than me, better than Alex… You're just a good guy."
When I wake up, I'm surprised to find the basement still intact, and while I can feel it coiled up again like a cobra, it isn't any closer to rising to the surface as it was earlier. The dream has riled it too, and I can't blame it. Memories should stay away… They create an itch in my skin that make me want to run away from them, and I think about it. But, I don't move from the couch until I hear a knocking on the door. "Timothy? I'm going out for a bit if you want to come with me."
The devil's trap does nothing to trap me, and so I walk up the cellar steps unhindered. "I'll come," I tell him, and artificial light floods the stairwell.
"Good," he says. "We might as well flush what's left of your drink out of your system."
