Reviewers, you rock, as always.
Sorry for the delay. My mother got bit by the IKEA-bug, and my house subsequently exploded in a flurry of remodeling. That, and Zelda is still eating my soul.
Happy New Year!
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
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Is it the same waking?
I don't know. It feels like a million wakings from now.
But time moves slower. Because I am frightened. Has it been only a few moments? An hour? A day?
It's still so dark and I can't tell. I can't tell. No sun. No light. No time.
My heart stopped hammering, but it is not calmer. But I try to breathe slow. I can't waste my energy. Greys would not like it.
Where is he?
There is nothing here, only me and you. I wish you could tell me where he is, where he went. Speak to me from the future, whoever you are. Where is my friend?
But there is nothing else here. And I cannot sit still. I had put my book away, but I take it up again and write. Because there is nothing else. Nothing else.
Writing. How much time can I make pass by writing?
Not enough, never enough. Would I could span this gap.
I cannot do nothing and I cannot do something! It makes me mad!
Waiting drives me mad because it is a pit of uncertainty! I drown.
Writing drives me mad because the pit of uncertainty is the only thing to write about! Nothing else! Nothing!
Ah, but writing about bad things is better than not writing about them.
No! But I have already written about it! You already know about it!
Then write something else.
There is nothing else. My thoughts are full and awash. Over the brim: Where is Greys?
Make yourself write something else.
It would be a lie. It would betray what is in my head.
If it is madness to stay, then I should move.
Not far. You'll get lost.
I can't get lost. Then there would be two of us lost. That's all of us lost. No more after Greys and I. Except for you.
But aren't we all lost already?
The Lost of Lost, is that where he has gone?
I won't go far.