Chappie Fourteen: Where is Timothy?

Rubles? Where is Timmy?

She's swimming through a swamp of feelings. The current carries her swiftly, dragging at her favorite pajama shirt. She flips around, craning her neck to find the surface, but all she can see are flashes of neon colors. They leave red and blue imprints in her vision, and as she blinks them away, a giant stuffed monkey suddenly looms in front of her. She gasps at the thing, losing all her air and scared shitless since the damned thing is somehow depicted in photo negative colors. She clamps her mouth shut as water clogs her throat and lungs, and twists away from the horrific image of her childhood toy.

She's met with resistance. No matter how hard she tries to doggy paddle away, the current keeps tugging her forward. A bicycle swings past, and her attempt to dodge it has her shooting forward at incredible speeds. Objects zoom past, flitting in and out of her peripheral vision too fast for her to see, their negative coloring adding a dystopian appeal to whatever underwater realm she's found herself in. She floats aimlessly, head-over-heels, scrambling for purchase against anything that comes her way. Her lungs are starting to burn.

Rubles, the voice echoes, the water distorting it. She whips her head around, mouth opening to call for help. Where is Timmy, the voice asks, very clearly holding back tears.

Her heart aches at the pain in the voice. A familiar face flickers to her side, and she shouts as she reaches for it, bubbles trailing behind her. She manages to snatch a piece of cloth, and as the current yanks her away from a creepy Dora the Explorer plushie, she examines the Power Rangers-themed piece of pajama pants in her hands.

Her eyes blow wide,and the current abruptly shifts to the side. She's sent careening into a watery living room. She jolts at the sudden stop, staring as three people cuddle together on a couch, a TV playing cartoons in front of them. Specifically, Power Rangers. As she watches, the smallest of the three jumps up with excitement, copying the movements exactly. The little thing pumps a fist in the air triumphantly at scoring such perfect moves, and throws a carefree smile over their shoulder at the other two still on the couch. Before she can catch a good look at their face, she's sent careening back through the watery depths filled with miscellaneous items.

Rubles, the voice sobs. Rubles, where is our brother? Where is Timmy?

She flies past random objects in negative colours. The water swells with a wave, and she goes up along with it, her toes skimming across the top of a bunk bed. A body pillow slaps her across the face and she goes spinning. Dizzy and with lungs burning, she struggles to right herself and kick for the surface, desperation for air clouding all motion and thoughts. More neon flashes obscure her vision, and she chokes as a lollipop suddenly appears in her mouth. She crunches on it out of reflex in an attempt to stop it from going down her throat. Artificial cherry flavor coats her tongue.

Why isn't Timmy here, the voice cries. I want him to come back! Why won't you talk to me about it? I'm scared!

Her body jolts in agony as her back slams into a bedroom dresser. Her eyelids flutter, and for a moment she thinks she's going to fall unconscious, but then the current lightly floats her above the messy bedroom scene. From her eagle-eye perspective, she sees three people roughhousing on the floor, their relationship as close siblings obvious for everyone to see. At one point the tallest of the group gathers the shorter two into a big hug, and all three settle comfortably on the floor in a tangle of limbs. The makeshift dogpile whispers quietly to itself, the three sharing secrets that not even the night itself can hear.

Please, wails the voice. I just want to know! Ma is crying herself sick, Rubles, and you're not even talking to me anymore. I'm so scared. I just want Tim back! Why hasn't he come home?

The current sweeps her up in a flurry, her night shirt slapping at her face. Her tears bubble up in the water and float around her, both from the pain she's experiencing at hearing the voice and from her lack of oxygen. She claws wildly at the current, trying to wrench herself free, trying to wrestle her way to an air pocket, but it's no use. Her body is too weak from suffocating to resist the pull.

Her lungs cave in on themselves, and she spits out a giant glob of blood. Her throat burns, and black spots dance across the edges of her vision. The swirling force of the current slows some, and the objects constantly zooming past her slow to a stop. Soon, she's drifting aimlessly in the water, nothing recognizable in sight. It's dark, cold, and lonely, and she's too confused by the mess left behind her to appreciate the quiet.

Something brushes against the skin of her right arm, and she screams silently as pain flares bright and hot. She struggles without any real enemies, kicking and thrashing against restraints that don't exist. The fire burns purple across her body, eating away at her flesh. She shrieks and scratches at the liquid acid traveling up her skin, but it just sticks to her hand like glue. She curls up in a ball as the water turns maroon with her blood and the purple fire. She tries to groan and ends up vomiting. She blinks blearily at the mess floating in front of her face, and starts as her heart drifts by, still pumping, veins connecting down her throat and to her chest cavity.

Where is Timothy, the voice demands, heavy with unshed tears.

She gasps, sucking in all the water around her. She shrieks as gravity suddenly reclaims her, and she falls face first onto the floor. The impact caves in her forehead. She chokes against the rushing gore of blood and brain matter, fingers shakily grasping at liquid and trying to stuff it back into her head. Her mouth hangs limply, unable to close due to pain, and she wheezes into the concrete. Somehow, she pulls herself to her feet. Wind whips through her hair, curling her fading green tips and tangling her brown locks. A car zooms behind her, and the noise sends her stumbling forward to the railing. She looks down and flinches dizzily at the expanse of river beneath the bridge. She's hanging onto the railing for dear life, grateful that she isn't on the other side.

Something black flickers to her left, and she weakly turns her head to the side. Standing before her is a young man that looks about twenty. He stares solemnly out at the water, his dark hair camouflaging with the dark of night. Moonlight highlights his strange features, his almond eyes and strong nose casting a sharp profile. He glances at her from the corner of his eyes, and his haunted gaze pierces her to the core. His knuckles are white from his tight grip, the only thing keeping him on the bridge seeing as he's hanging from the railings on the other side.

"Timothy is dead," he whispers, and lets go.

its like she had a really, really bad trip dude. damn.