Campbell managed to get himself ready for the day and dragged himself down to the radio booth. Bethy was already there; at least, he thought it was her, as she had was apparently hiding inside her shirt. Slightly confused, and not really thinking, he went and tapped her gently on the top of her blonde head, startling her. Bethy practically fell off her chair, as she tried frantically to simultaneously stick her arms back through her sleeves and back away from her "attacker." Luckily, Campbell caught her before she hit the ground, but he earned himself a glare that was part anger and part fear and just plain heartbreaking. He was surprised that she didn't hit him with the book she had been hiding under there.
Just another black mark against this already black day.
And it only got worse, because then Bethy refused to enter the booth.
"It's fine, I promise ya," Campbell urged. "Nothin's gonna' happen to ya.'" But, for all his reassurance, she continued to refuse to share the space with him. She finally settled for a chair placed in the doorway, and a pair of headphones half on and half off, the black chord stretched almost straight across the small room.
He began to explain all the knobs and sliders and switches and lights to her, even though by this point he felt like he was somewhere between drowning and suffocation. Bethy listened intently, even venturing to point at a few things and look confused when she needed something repeated or clarified.
Disregarding how absolutely horrible he felt, he was pleased at how well Bethy was doing. It even did a little to help warm his cold insides, especially at that one moment when Bethy, seeming almost normal, got up from her chair, slipped off her headphones, and settled in the corner to flip contentedly through the stacks of records. Campbell, after warning her as gently as he could not to mess them up because Rosalie had worked hard on cleaning and organizing them, practically held his breath as he watched the girl search quietly through the studio's music collection.
He wondered what she was looking for, if anything at all. Perhaps she was just looking, for once just enjoying being alive.
For the hundredth time he wondered what had happened to her. What was her real name? What had been so traumatizing that she had stopped talking. Personally, Campbell didn't know what he would do without his voice. It was his instrument, his escape. For the thousandth time he marveled at the differences in the people around him: how everyone could go through so many different things and end up so many different ways.
But why? Why did he have to go through this? Why did any of them? It wasn't fair. If the human mind was so amazing, why couldn't it just be perfect? And why him? Why any of them? They hadn't done anything to deserve these punishments. Because that's what they were. He was being punished for something he didn't even do, for a crime he wasn't even aware of committing! IT WASN'T. BLOODY.
FAIR! Campbell pounded the tabletop with his fist, making the equipment shake in fear and defend itself by creating a bloody red line down the side of his thumb
Bethy jumped, knocking over the neat stack of records she had set beside her. Looking over at her companion, her eyes widened. She saw the red liquid drip down the side of his hand and she saw the crystalline tears begin to roll down his checks as if from a storm cloud. She didn't even realize that she was next to him, that she had her arms wrapped desperately around him, until the deed was done.
And by then it was too late to back away. She was in this now, for better or for worse.
He was screaming and yelling and crying because it was suddenly all too much and he just couldn't take it anymore!
He barely registered the arms around his torso, trying to hold him still. He would not be contained; he deserved that much.
Everything was blurry and the life inside him prickled at his insides and then there were voices voices voices and more but different and unkind arms around him and he was pulled away his face was burning the tears were boiling on his hot flesh and the last thing he heard before it all became blissful Oblivion was an unfamiliar voice shouting "NO."
This development is actually quite a surprise to me, even though I've been considering throwing Campbell into a depressive state for a while. Partly inspired by an idea I Am Tiny gave me for a violent Campbell, but I guess also because I wanted to make this story about him as well as Bethy. Not really sure how scientifically accurate this is, but I have a new headcanon that Campbell gets really philosophical/existential when he's depressed.
*needs to rewatch series desperately*
I really love to write altered states of consciousness!
Thank you to rapid reviewers I Am Tiny, bbctennant, and Trainee Hero. *HUGS x 99999999*
Feel free to PM me with any more ideas!