"Elijah, the floor is a pile of white ash. I can't possibly feed it anymore."
"But you have to. I could for a while, but I can't do it forever. I'm only a side to your internal conversations. YOU have to feed it sometime."
"SHOOT! I can't get rid of it?"
"Nope." I went outside and walked down the road to my old house. There wasn't much left. I found the hole where the stairs had been, and slid down into the remains of the basement. To my horror, my feet hit hard wood. The paintbrushes I had had were lying about, charred beyond recognition, but the floor was untouched.
"Feed it. Go find someone, Marissa."
"Damon?"
"Who are you talking to?"
"You didn't hear that?"
"Um...no."
"Elijah, I heard Damon?"
"Must just be a memory. Damon died in the fire. Damon STARTED the fire?"
"No, Damon didn't do it. Johnny threw him off at the TV. It wasn't his fault."
"Yes it was. He WANTED the monster to escape. He WAS the monster, sorta. I didn't figure it out till a few days ago. Like he wasn't YOU anymore."
"The monster started the fire so it could escape."
"Exactly."
CRACK!
A sliver of black snaked across the floor. It was pushing free. I scrambled up the stairwell. It was slippery. I looked around for someone, anyone, and my eyes rested on a young man walking down the street. I waved at him, and slowly, he walked over. I knelt down, pointing down the dark hole. He peered curiously down, and I pulled a long knife out of my left boot.
"Good job. But the blood dries."
"SHUT UP DAMON!"
"Who the hell is Damon?"
"SHUT UP MEAT!"
"You are hearing a MEMORY." Said Elijah.
"You've gone nuts."
"SHUT UP or I'll roast you, MEAT."
"Didn't seem to stop 'Damon."
"SHUT UP MEAT."
"Have I ever noticed I don't listen to you?"
I pulled off my bloodied shirt and ran it under some warm water. Some of the red washed off. Of course, it was my favorite shirt, again. It was white with a black Z? on it. I made it, after a shirt of Johnny's. And now there was blood all over it.
"FUCK!"
I scrubbed at the brownish stains. They lightened. I ran into the bathroom to get the hydrogen peroxide. I poured it onto the shirt, and scrubbed more. They were almost invisible now.
"They're gone."
"It's a white shirt, MEAT."
"So?"
"So I've gotta get all the color out."
"Know why?"
"Why."
"You're a slave."
"Shut up MEAT."
"Back to Damon. He won't be dead until you say he is, because he wasn't real to begin with."
"But he MOVED."
"Um, yes…. That's kinda confusing. Not sure what was happening there…"
"The monster."
"Oh, yeah. That could be it. Gee, I didn't think of that…"
"Ummmm…"
"What, MEAT?"
"I'm not MEAT."
Shoot. I pulled my wet shirt back on.
"Sorry, I didn't know you were home."
"I was painting the wall."
"Sorry."
"I see you had an…experience…"
"SEE? I told you, MEAT. I have to get all the color off. Guess what? My floor is fine, despite the rest of the house being burned into antimatter."
"How…"
"I have no idea."
"Okay."
"The bear is back too, in my head."
"The one who jumped me?"
"Yeah. He's also burned, and he's STILL TALKING."
" So fire doesn't fix problems of insanity."
"Guess no.t"
"Shoot. I was gonna try that."
"Don't. Now I've gotta COMMUTE to paint the floor. I thought it was bad before…"
"But you get to kill."
"SHUT UP DAMON."
"Um, could you not do that…"
"Sorry. I'm just used to talking to MEAT."
"MEAT I understand, but yelling that at random times is gonna freak me out. I don't have the Gift of Gab like you."
"Gift of Gab?"
"You hear my delusions, I don't hear yours."
"Oh, yeah."
"Did you feed it??"
"Yeah, it was already about to break through when I got there. I'm glad Elijah knew about it or we wouldn't be here now."
"Not being here is bad. Yup."
"Thank you for the update, Elijah."
"I was gonna ask you if you want to go out again tonite because all we have is flour and a little baking soda."
"Baking soda is yummy."
"Yeah, but there's not enough for a meal."
"Where do you want to go? I picked yesterday."
"I let's go to… Oh, what's that place by the CD Cesspool."
"OOOh, I know that place… Eat or Die, right?"
"Yeah. I love the theme of that place."
"MEXICAN!"
"Um…. Not Mexican."
That's one of my goals in life is to eat a meal of baking soda. It fizzes, really. Like pop rocks, only like sour, and bitter and oh god I would get so SICK.. All my teachers keep getting scared of me cuz I hum without knowing it, and I keep doodling Johnny all over my homework. Johnny is doing Johnny stuff. This is scary. OK, I have rambled, back to the fic, which is looking up.