Just-Me-and-My-Brain-How do you think I felt? Crazy old witch...ah, well. I should thank her, really. Schools don't like to teach you about the power of fear. More's the pity.
Jasmine Scarthing-Is that sympathy or sarcasm? I can never tell over the internet. For your sake, it had better be sympathy. You know I hate picking skin from under my nails. TOO BAD.
Voodoo-Mutant-Child-We're lucky if we have a working television. I'll go back to Arkham on purpose if there's a new series of Doctor Who. God knows why. I don't want to miss anything!
He pries a sticky hand away from his side and fumbles for the knob. His fingers, slick with blood, can't close around it. He's going to pass out-spots are eating away at his vision. God…Jesus…somebody…
He tries to grip the knob again and manages to turn it, but only a little. It's locked. Fuck.
Please…
He's shaking. He's going to vomit. The only thing keeping him upright is his grip on the knob, but that's slipping. It's cold. Why is it cold?
His fingers can't do this anymore and he feels himself wobble, struggling to stay on his feet.
The door opens just as he loses his fight with gravity and he plummets downwards.
But he doesn't reach the floor.
Someone-he knows them, he must-catches him and calls a name that must be his.
"Jonathan!"
They can barely support him-he can feel the tension.
"Come on, love…work with me, just a few more steps…"
Kitty. That's her name.
He can't make his mouth work anymore than he can take a few more steps. It doesn't matter, though-he ends up being half-carried, half-dragged out of the hallway. The carpet's pattern was not designed to move and watching it makes him nauseous.
"Here we go, love…"
He winds up on a hard surface-coffee table?
"Look at me. Please." His eyes are closed? How funny, he doesn't remember them doing that. "Jonathan."
He blinks-bright, too bright-and tries to focus on her.
"Hey." She's blurry. "Do you remember what happened?"
He can't answer her. If he opens his mouth, he'll puke.
His eyes slide closed again and he feels his hand drop down, his fingers brushing the carpet.
"Jonathan." Not now. "Jonathan, don't do this. Please."
Her voice fades. Time stops.
THE END