It happened that night.
I was lying in bed, the sheets tucked around me, pulled up to my neck to protect me from the gentle breeze coming in through the parted window. The moonlight fell on the figure beside mine, hair aflame from the pale rays and bronzed skin shimmering where the blankets ended halfway up his chest. Virgil's eyes were closed and he looked so serene that I could nearly forget what had happened that day.
Nearly.
Hours ticked by, my mind filling with all the events that had taken place. The attack, the time after when I'd realized I was still alive, the fear I felt when I remembered what I had to do. Eating a quiet dinner on the balcony with Virgil as the sun went down behind the hills, the orange glow lighting the trees on fire as it dipped behind them. And after, going for a walk along the beach, feeling like all was right with the world when I knew it wasn't, enjoying his hand in mine and the sand beneath my bare feet. Then returning to the room at nearly midnight, neither of us tired, allowing a gentle goodnight kiss to lead to so much more.
And now here, resting beside him, staring at the ceiling, my thoughts haunted by the eyes, by the fact that I'd been ordered to kill the man I love. I couldn't do it, not when I was thinking clearly.
Little did I know coherent thought of my own wouldn't last much longer.
Slowly a haze settles over my mind. I mistake it for sleep and give in, closing my eyes, thinking that perhaps I will get some shut eye before the sun comes up. But no matter how hard I try, sleep doesn't come. Yet I can't explain the feeling of weariness that has begun to consume me.
I hear a voice in my mind. Perhaps I'm dreaming. It's sinister, dripping with hate, and barely recognizable as my body has given into exhaustion. It doesn't set in that it's artificially created, that the tiredness in my limbs isn't natural. It's caused by something - by him, the man taking over my brain.
"Are you ready to do what I asked of you, Tin-Tin?" He sneers, the eyes illuminated on my eyelids, blocking out the world.
I weakly shake my head, but it's no use. He has too much of me controlled now; I feel as though I'm no longer myself.
His laughter makes me cringe slightly as it echoes through my ears. So cold and bitter, full of hatred for people he doesn't even know. How is it possible to hate those that help the world? I suppose I'll never truly know why he does.
"Who are you?" The words are gentle off my lips, a whisper inside my head though I spoke them aloud in the silent room. Virgil, still sleeping soundly, doesn't stir.
"Who I am does not matter," he drawls, sounding bored with the chit chat. He wants action, not conversation.
"Why do you want to kill him?" My strength flickers as I retaliate with more questions and I can feel small sparks of it surging through myself whenever I speak. I must keep it that way, if I wish to regain use of my own mind.
"It is not him I want to kill, dear Tin-Tin. It is the entire International Rescue that I want to come to an end."
"But why?"
"Enough with the questions, you fool! Do as I ask or it is your life that will end. I want the secrets of that stupid organization and you are my way of getting them. You will do as I say or you will die, along with all those brainless people you work with!" He shouts, accentuating certain words and spitting them out as if they were poison.
I shudder in fear. If something happened to the Tracy family, or to my father, or Grandma or Brains, it would be my fault. My thoughts were no longer my own. He had me now, and I could do nothing to resist him.
My arms remove the sheet from around myself and my muscles seem to scream at me to stop them. There is nothing I can do. I was a prisoner in my own body, watching helplessly through eyes that seemed not to be my own any longer, knowing what was to come and knowing also that I could do nothing to stop it.
I slipped out of bed and strode across the room to the robe lying on the chair. Putting it on and tying the belt around my waist would look as casual to anyone as it would to Virgil should he awaken. But inside, I was falling apart, crumbling to pieces as I tried to stop this madman from using me to carry out his evil deeds. My head spun and ached with sharper pains than I'd ever experienced and I was slowly dying away, completely taken over.
My steps to the kitchen were my own, yet I don't recall how I got there. The next while would be nearly a blank, just a memory that would seem to have taken place so long ago. A drawer is pulled open by my fingers and the utensils inside gleam brightly under the moon and stars outside the window. A long, slender blade captures my attention and I reach for it, taking the bone handle in my hand, feeling its smoothly carved surface against my palm. I adjust my grip, holding it tightly and raising it above my head.
"Yes," came the evil voice inside my head, "Just what I was hoping we'd find."
The cruel eyes, still in my mind, darken with hatred and narrow in intent. The knife, held in my own hand, would be the one he used to kill Virgil.
Quietly I tread back to the bedroom, across the gently worn carpet until I stand before the bed, looking down at the figure beneath the sheets. For a split second, my mind is my own, him allowing me only to think, not to act, to realize what he is about to put me through.
I see the strands of his hair, the moonlight acting on them as before, the same pieces I'd recently run my fingers through in a fit of passion. The gentle curves of his face that I'd come to know so well, dark eyelashes brushing against his cheek as he slept. The lips, those I'd kissed so many times, pulled into an expression of utter content. The rugged jaw line, neck and muscular shoulders that gave way to a perfectly sculpted, powerful torso I'd rested against countless nights, huddled beneath the sheets with him. The heart I knew that beat beneath it, filled with love for me just as mine was for him.
If all went to plan, that heart would no longer palpitate. The thought struck me like the knife I was holding and I felt my resolve strengthen and the man that had come to manipulate me pushed farther to the back of my mind. Tears ran down my cheeks as I let out a howl of sorrow and rage and threw the knife across the room. It struck the wall, embedding itself within the plaster as I crumpled to my knees.
I'd escaped. For the brief moment his control had flickered, I'd gotten my own self back. Goosebumps erupt from my skin as I sit huddled inside the robe, crying silently, too hard to make noise. Down my neck glide the translucent tears as I shake uncontrollably, the emotions too strong to make sense of now.
The man has left for the time being, and the relief that floods me was quickly replaced with guilt for letting him dominate me and use me for his wicked plans. If I had not broken away at that time, Virgil would be dead, killed by my own hand.
"Tin-Tin?" The cry had roused him from his sleep and he'd climbed out of bed, making his way to my dark, crouched self sitting on the floor.
The pale morning light from the rising sun took that chance to hit the blade, buried deep in the wall, thrown there by a force I had not realized I even possessed. I could sense he was looking at it in shock, wondering how it'd gotten there, and why it was out of the drawer in the first place.
"Tin-Tin, what the hell is going on here?"
I was lying in bed, the sheets tucked around me, pulled up to my neck to protect me from the gentle breeze coming in through the parted window. The moonlight fell on the figure beside mine, hair aflame from the pale rays and bronzed skin shimmering where the blankets ended halfway up his chest. Virgil's eyes were closed and he looked so serene that I could nearly forget what had happened that day.
Nearly.
Hours ticked by, my mind filling with all the events that had taken place. The attack, the time after when I'd realized I was still alive, the fear I felt when I remembered what I had to do. Eating a quiet dinner on the balcony with Virgil as the sun went down behind the hills, the orange glow lighting the trees on fire as it dipped behind them. And after, going for a walk along the beach, feeling like all was right with the world when I knew it wasn't, enjoying his hand in mine and the sand beneath my bare feet. Then returning to the room at nearly midnight, neither of us tired, allowing a gentle goodnight kiss to lead to so much more.
And now here, resting beside him, staring at the ceiling, my thoughts haunted by the eyes, by the fact that I'd been ordered to kill the man I love. I couldn't do it, not when I was thinking clearly.
Little did I know coherent thought of my own wouldn't last much longer.
Slowly a haze settles over my mind. I mistake it for sleep and give in, closing my eyes, thinking that perhaps I will get some shut eye before the sun comes up. But no matter how hard I try, sleep doesn't come. Yet I can't explain the feeling of weariness that has begun to consume me.
I hear a voice in my mind. Perhaps I'm dreaming. It's sinister, dripping with hate, and barely recognizable as my body has given into exhaustion. It doesn't set in that it's artificially created, that the tiredness in my limbs isn't natural. It's caused by something - by him, the man taking over my brain.
"Are you ready to do what I asked of you, Tin-Tin?" He sneers, the eyes illuminated on my eyelids, blocking out the world.
I weakly shake my head, but it's no use. He has too much of me controlled now; I feel as though I'm no longer myself.
His laughter makes me cringe slightly as it echoes through my ears. So cold and bitter, full of hatred for people he doesn't even know. How is it possible to hate those that help the world? I suppose I'll never truly know why he does.
"Who are you?" The words are gentle off my lips, a whisper inside my head though I spoke them aloud in the silent room. Virgil, still sleeping soundly, doesn't stir.
"Who I am does not matter," he drawls, sounding bored with the chit chat. He wants action, not conversation.
"Why do you want to kill him?" My strength flickers as I retaliate with more questions and I can feel small sparks of it surging through myself whenever I speak. I must keep it that way, if I wish to regain use of my own mind.
"It is not him I want to kill, dear Tin-Tin. It is the entire International Rescue that I want to come to an end."
"But why?"
"Enough with the questions, you fool! Do as I ask or it is your life that will end. I want the secrets of that stupid organization and you are my way of getting them. You will do as I say or you will die, along with all those brainless people you work with!" He shouts, accentuating certain words and spitting them out as if they were poison.
I shudder in fear. If something happened to the Tracy family, or to my father, or Grandma or Brains, it would be my fault. My thoughts were no longer my own. He had me now, and I could do nothing to resist him.
My arms remove the sheet from around myself and my muscles seem to scream at me to stop them. There is nothing I can do. I was a prisoner in my own body, watching helplessly through eyes that seemed not to be my own any longer, knowing what was to come and knowing also that I could do nothing to stop it.
I slipped out of bed and strode across the room to the robe lying on the chair. Putting it on and tying the belt around my waist would look as casual to anyone as it would to Virgil should he awaken. But inside, I was falling apart, crumbling to pieces as I tried to stop this madman from using me to carry out his evil deeds. My head spun and ached with sharper pains than I'd ever experienced and I was slowly dying away, completely taken over.
My steps to the kitchen were my own, yet I don't recall how I got there. The next while would be nearly a blank, just a memory that would seem to have taken place so long ago. A drawer is pulled open by my fingers and the utensils inside gleam brightly under the moon and stars outside the window. A long, slender blade captures my attention and I reach for it, taking the bone handle in my hand, feeling its smoothly carved surface against my palm. I adjust my grip, holding it tightly and raising it above my head.
"Yes," came the evil voice inside my head, "Just what I was hoping we'd find."
The cruel eyes, still in my mind, darken with hatred and narrow in intent. The knife, held in my own hand, would be the one he used to kill Virgil.
Quietly I tread back to the bedroom, across the gently worn carpet until I stand before the bed, looking down at the figure beneath the sheets. For a split second, my mind is my own, him allowing me only to think, not to act, to realize what he is about to put me through.
I see the strands of his hair, the moonlight acting on them as before, the same pieces I'd recently run my fingers through in a fit of passion. The gentle curves of his face that I'd come to know so well, dark eyelashes brushing against his cheek as he slept. The lips, those I'd kissed so many times, pulled into an expression of utter content. The rugged jaw line, neck and muscular shoulders that gave way to a perfectly sculpted, powerful torso I'd rested against countless nights, huddled beneath the sheets with him. The heart I knew that beat beneath it, filled with love for me just as mine was for him.
If all went to plan, that heart would no longer palpitate. The thought struck me like the knife I was holding and I felt my resolve strengthen and the man that had come to manipulate me pushed farther to the back of my mind. Tears ran down my cheeks as I let out a howl of sorrow and rage and threw the knife across the room. It struck the wall, embedding itself within the plaster as I crumpled to my knees.
I'd escaped. For the brief moment his control had flickered, I'd gotten my own self back. Goosebumps erupt from my skin as I sit huddled inside the robe, crying silently, too hard to make noise. Down my neck glide the translucent tears as I shake uncontrollably, the emotions too strong to make sense of now.
The man has left for the time being, and the relief that floods me was quickly replaced with guilt for letting him dominate me and use me for his wicked plans. If I had not broken away at that time, Virgil would be dead, killed by my own hand.
"Tin-Tin?" The cry had roused him from his sleep and he'd climbed out of bed, making his way to my dark, crouched self sitting on the floor.
The pale morning light from the rising sun took that chance to hit the blade, buried deep in the wall, thrown there by a force I had not realized I even possessed. I could sense he was looking at it in shock, wondering how it'd gotten there, and why it was out of the drawer in the first place.
"Tin-Tin, what the hell is going on here?"