Entrapment-One
Voices from a far off television set reached Henry's ears, making him groan and roll over on the air mattress. It gave a small squeak under his weight.
He was never really sure why he had even purchased the mattress. It was a few months after he moved into South Ashfield Heights, and he was just absentmindedly strolling throughout the various aisles of the nearest department store, looking for nothing in particular.
And then he found the somewhat large box containing the mattress. Henry did not ever really have any guests, so it was almost a waste of money. Almost.
He had slept on it that night, just staring up at the ceiling.
But he was glad he bought the mattress, as he was never going to sleep in that bed ever again. Not after waking up in it and hearing the paramedics and police officers rush Cynthia to the ambulance, or after awakening and finding that Jasper had actually been burned alive.
No, he was not going to think about it. He fidgeted. Automobiles streaked through the streets, and sirens noisily rang out through his head.
People were walking around outside in the apartment hallways, and he heard a few muffled voices. The doorbell.
With another, louder, groan, Henry pushed the two sheets off of him and shuffled to the door. He looked through the peephole and sighed, relieved. It was Eileen.
Unlocking the door he pulled it back a tad, craning his head slightly. She had a concerned expression on her face, but smiled when she saw him. "Oh, Henry! I, uh, didn't know you were still asleep. I was a little worried; I didn't see you this morning, so…"
"It's alright," he replied quietly. "I'm fine."
She nodded. "That's… good to hear… Well, anyway, I also wanted to know if you'd like to, um, go out for a, uh, late breakfast… with me…? I haven't eaten yet…"
She giggled, face a little red. Henry did not seem to acknowledge it, though. "Yeah, sure, just let me get ready."
"Of course! I'll be in my room, when you're ready."
He smiled slightly and closed the door, locking it. Another day to live through.
The water began working again, so he took a quick, warm shower and got dressed, deciding not to iron out his white, buttoned shirt; a different one, by the way.
He was quick enough, though, to get outside of Room 302 at exactly 11:01; twenty minutes since Eileen was at the door.
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Eileen had offered to drive, which was good, because Henry did not feel up to driving. He did not feel too well overall, actually.
He was staring at the gray glove compartment before him, his right arm hanging rather limply beside the passenger door. The radio was on, and the newscaster spoke in quite a bored tone.
"Police are still baffled by the series of four murders which took place just three days ago. They have confirmed that these murders were performed by a copycat of Walter Sullivan, the man who killed ten people in exactly ten days some years ago. Sullivan…"
Eileen was not listening. "Could you… turn it off?" requested Henry softly. She glanced at him and then at the radio, swiftly switching it off. "Sorry about that; was it bothering you?"
He attempted a weak smile. "A little."
She smiled at him once more, but his head shifted to the right, eyes looking through the laminated glass and at the moving buildings. Then, for a split second, he saw him. He was standing within the mass of people walking down the sidewalk.
But he was gone just as suddenly as he appeared.
"Henry, are you feeling okay?"
"Huh…? Oh, sorry. What?"
"Do you feel okay?" she asked again, more sternly this time.
"I'm a bit nauseous, but-,"
"You didn't have to come along if you don't feel well, Henry," she stated rather parentally. Henry only shook his head. "No, I needed the air."
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"I'll be right back with your orders," said the waitress with that fake grin and tone, and Henry could tell she was having a bad day already as he handed her the laminated menu. It had started raining after they arrived at the restaurant. It was a new one, but Henry had no qualms with it so far.
He meekly pulled the coffee cup closer to him, staring at the brownish liquid as it swished and turned…
"Are you sure you're all right, Henry?"
He was actually starting to get agitated by Eileen's constant concern. He was fine! It was just an upset stomach; not a big deal. Or… was it? Was he really okay? He had noticed ever since he got back from the hospital. He was slightly pale and no longer had much of an appetite. And the temperature… it was so cold everywhere… He suddenly felt horrible.
The bile was going up and down, his stomach churning.
"Henry?"
"…I'll be right back…" he murmured fast as he stood from the booth and rushed to the restroom down the hall before him…
…and he stumbled through the door, almost slipping on something wet.
Henry ignored this and he quickly got hold of the edge of one of the sinks. There was a foul odor about, and that damned white paint only made him feel worse. Henry shuddered, noticing beads of sweat run down his forehead.
His eyes met with that of his reflection's, and he ground his teeth, fighting back the urge to puke right then and there.
He was convinced. Something was wrong with him. But what?
"What… the hell is… this…?" he muttered while closing his eyes.
"Something the matter, Henry?"
He might not have heard that voice too often, but he could spot it in a crowd of roaring people. His eyes shot open and he saw Walter Sullivan standing right behind him through the mirror.
With a yelp he fell back in surprise, but was quickly shoved to the tiled floor. He landed on his back, squinting. It was difficult to tell, but that was most definitely Walter Sullivan standing above him.
"No… No way!" he exclaimed while failing horribly at trying to crawl away.
"I think you should calm down Hen-,"
"You're dead! Dead!" yelled back the brunet feebly as he somehow got up and leaned against the wall, breathing frantic.
Walter folded his arms, sighing. "Don't make this any more difficult. I know it is not easy for you to go through this, so you must calm down and listen."
"What the hell are you talking about? There's no way-,"
"Yes there is, but before I can explain to you what is going you have to quiet down."
"You sick, psychotic… bastard… What-,"
"These are only natural side affects. I myself had never believed it when they spoke about it at Wish House, but I see now it really is working."
Henry was barely listening, more attentive to finding an escape route. He saw it, the door was still unlocked. Mustering up his strength he made a dash to the door, quickly grasping and turning the knob… to no avail. It was locked. Locked. He had not touched the damn thing… or had he…?
"Please, Henry. You can't get away, in any case."
The brunet slowly turned, falling against the wall. He looked up desperately at Walter who took a seat in front of him. "I wouldn't be wasting my energy, Henry; it's only going to get worse."
"What is going to get worse…?" inquired Henry faintly, no longer having the strength to fight back.
"My transference into your conscience."
"What the-,"
"Your body is having a hard time with me moving in. I'm sure you can understand." Walter stood, looking around the restroom. "Yes, you killed me, good, good, but I managed to seep myself, or rather, what was left of myself, into your conscience as you warped from my word as it crumbled. Think of it as… a last resort."
"So what? Are you alive, or dead, or-,"
"Technically, I'm dead, and I apologize for interrupting, but you would've rambled-,"
" 'Rambled'?"
"Well yes, when someone is distressed they usually do that, now-,"
" 'Distressed'?"
Walter disregarded this and continued. "I had never intended to go through with this, but it is indeed working, so you are going to have to cooperate."
Henry winced as he got up, ignoring the pain in his legs. "No!" he shouted while slamming himself into the door, somehow getting it open.
"Help!" he screamed. "Help!" Henry ran out of the hallway and into the main room, people standing in surprise and others staring at him oddly. His head spun from side to side and he saw the nearest attendees rushing at him, but he paid no concern.
"Help, please! He's after me! Walter Sullivan!"
He heard mutterings arise and saw panic begin to spread throughout the crowd… then he saw Eileen running towards him. "Henry!"
He looked back at Walter, who was casually stepping out of the hallway.
"Are you all blind? He's right there!" he yelled again, pointing at the blonde.
"Henry, what are you talking about?" said Eileen worriedly as Henry saw Walter smile that blasted smile. His head suddenly felt like it was splitting in half upon seeing that smile, and he fell to his knees.
"Can't you all… see him…?"
He fell, that smile still in his mind as total blackness took over.
(First of all, this isn't a weapon against Gaia Faye or 'Impaired'; I was joking. Second, I don't know. Hopefully this chapter helped a little.)