Corpora Quadrigemina

By, hionlife

The companion to A Slow Descent, if you have not read that and are here on the second part already, you are probably very annoyed and possibly very angry with me. Go read it for both of our sakes.

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When you've had something like OCD your entire life, always feeling that presence, that edge, those voices in your mind, it's hard to tell when you actually start to slip. I thought I would know. I thought I had control. I was wrong. It surprises you. Like a virus on a computer that hibernates, just sits in some file, for days or weeks or even months and then one day, for no real reason, it just pops up. Deletes half of your hard drive.

Yea, it's more like that. But I didn't know. I didn't know. Which is why I never expected it would happen on a good day. It was a Friday and I had a date that night. Aced a physics test that morning, which isn't unusual, but every A still made dad proud. I remember handing it to him that afternoon. He'd slapped me on the back, shaking his head.

"That's my boy. NASA called for you yet?" That was it. It's simple, easy, good days like that which make Everworld seem so far away. Everworld was no longer a place to escape. When Senna brought my compulsions over from the real world, they stayed there, like a physical thing. Just like she brought over weapons and men. There was no joy in being there anymore when there wasn't that freedom. The real world, however, was like a brand new place. Here, I had only experienced that sort of freedom once before, also because of Senna, but now it was permanent, or so I hoped. I had never realized what life was really like, how it was to be healthy. Over in Everworld, no one said anything if I slept a little longer or if I lay there for a long time after waking, hoping to slip back into sleep and crossover. Of course, they all knew at that point.

I left my dad in the kitchen and made my way upstairs. Padded quietly through the hall and stopped in the bathroom. Finished my business and washed my hands once. Just once and it was okay. You really never appreciate the small things like that unless you have experienced the other side. I slipped into my room and closed the door, locked it. My mom had taken my sisters out shopping, so there would be no interruptions, but it was habit. I had to call Miyuki and see what time I should pick her up. I sat down at the desk, dialed the number and waited. After seven rings, there was still no answer, so I hung up. She probably wasn't home yet. It was still early. I could wait.

I turned on the radio, flipped open a book. Most kids would wait until Sunday night or Monday morning to start this homework, but procrastination tends to make me very nervous. It's like driving around with the fuel light on, hoping you'll have enough to make it to the gas station. No way. If something needs to be done, go do it, end of story. That sounds a little like David's attitude. Although, his and my perceptions of what needs to be done tend to vary massively. Not as much lately. With everything that's happened, he's been doing an excellent impression of the walking dead, both here and there.

I tried to focus on my work. Thoughts of Everworld didn't belong in my new calm world. The good and the bad were entirely separate now. I jumped out of my chair, remembering the physics book that I had left in the kitchen with the test. Turned the radio off, strolled across the room, and reached for the doorknob. I really can't explain it. I mean there should be a reason. Fear is a rational thing, usually; there should be a reason for it. I knew that. And still as I reached forward to open that door, I just froze. For two seconds, honestly, that's all it took. I felt the adrenaline course through my body, unneeded, racing my heart, constricting my lungs. The room closed in and swirled around me. This shouldn't be happening here, not now, I thought. It's hard to rationalize with yourself when you can't breath and your muscles are so tight like you might snap. I sank to the floor, the terror pressing in around me. And I waited. My heart pounded, every beat thumping in my chest. I pretended that I didn't hear the phone ring, didn't hear my dad call for me, didn't look at the clock as the evening came and went. I could get up any time I wanted to. No problem. When my mom got home and knocked on the door, I told her I was sick. Which I was, sort of. Scared sick.

They didn't really start to worry until the next morning, almost noon. By that time I had lay down, curled up with my back against the bed. I'd spent the night drifting in and out of sleep, startling myself awake when I forgot to breathe. There was another knock on the door.

"Jalil?" My mom. "Are you okay?" I took a deep breath to steady my voice.

"I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" The doorknob twisted as she tried to open it and fresh waves of fear tore through me. I jumped off the floor and flung myself against the door, panting for air. She couldn't come in here. No one could come in here.

"Jalil?" A question in her tone now that I couldn't bring myself to answer. A second voice, my dad's, joined her in the hall. Their whispered conversation came through the solid wood in muffled pieces.

"What's he doing?"

"I don't know."

"He's sick."

"Not saying anything."

"A key?" No, it was an old house, we didn't have keys to the doors. Did we? I didn't think so, but maybe they knew about it and never told me. Maybe they were going to get the key right now. No, they couldn't come in here.

"Mom?" I heard her breathing through the door.

"Yea?"

"I- I'm fine. Just tired, okay?" That was really convincing. I could hear the sigh in her voice as she spoke.

"Yea, okay. I'll come back later." Then soft footsteps moving down the hall. I slid down the door on to the carpet. Reminded myself that I could leave anytime I wanted to, I just didn't want to yet. I wasn't hungry, I wasn't thirsty, and I wasn't scared. Yea, right.

Native Americans have a spiritual tradition of isolating themselves. Young males go off on their own to pray and fast for days or weeks or as long as it takes. The goal of it all is to receive some message or vision about a greater purpose or direction in their life. And while I really don't believe in all of that, it's kind of how I felt as I lay there on the floor. Drifting in and out of sleep and panic, here or there, eventually it didn't matter. I lost sense of time and the voices of my parents, which periodically came to the door, faded until I didn't hear anything anymore. I just was. I just was scared. Perhaps that is my greater truth.

Not the most comforting thought after all. I thought I had a handle on how Everworld and this world balanced. I thought that I knew who I was, but I guess I was wrong about that too. I can separate myself from the OCD, it's just a glitch, it's not a part of me, but the fear is different. It's here and there and paralyzing in both places. Is this me really better off than that me? Am I only one and always the same person or do I have some kind of externally imposed schizophrenia? Is Everworld Jalil thinner or stronger than real world Jalil? I didn't know anymore. All I knew for sure was that I couldn't handle this world anymore. I couldn't go out there and be in it.

A thump on the other side of the door startled me away from it. I sat up fast, choking on the air.

"Jalil?" That was my dad, voice laced with worry and determination. "We're coming in."

"No!" The volume of my own voice shocked me in the quiet space. They couldn't come in here. Through the door I could hear the creak of my dad's old tool box opening, my mom's voice, and then a light hammering as my dad tapped the bolts out of the hinges.

"Dad, don't come in here!" I was frantic, could I move the bed in front of the door, the dresser, the desk. It was all too heavy, too much. The window, no, I couldn't go out there. I pressed my back against the door.

"Dad, please." I felt the door shake behind me, the first hinge released. And all I could think was no. No, no, no, they couldn't because I couldn't. I felt to my knees, drawing shallow and infrequent breaths. My chest ached with intensity. And then the door fell open and the world swallowed me whole.

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A/N: Well, I think that was better than David's part, or I hope anyway. Christopher is next. I don't think I will do a part for April, because you've already got her point of view. Yep. Review?