Depths (17 page)

“
What the fuck...
”

I felt around behind me, keeping my eyes on her and
desperately searching for the door. I brushed against the knob and
fumbled with it to get a grip, but it kept slipping in my sweaty
palms. She was getting closer to me, staggering forward on her
bloody feet, her grotesque sneer intensifying with every step.

I managed to get a grip on the
door knob and turned it, bolted out of the room and slammed
the door shut.

I was about to run down the stairs and get the hell
out of her house until I saw I was in a hallway.

My hallway.

She thudded against the door with
a wet
thwap
. I
bolted down the hall to my living room and double checked my pocket
for my keys. They were there. I threw the front door open and
slipped on something wet, landing on my back in a puddle of
…
Something. In the pale moonlight I could see a
glimmer of scarlet on my hands. Blood. A trail of it led from my
car to the doorstep.

Frantically, I pulled myself back on my feet and
sprinted to my car. I got the door unlocked, scurried inside and
got the key in the ignition after a couple tries.

As I started the car, she appeared in the doorway. I
threw the gears into reverse and slammed on the gas pedal,
screeching out of the driveway while she stood at the doorway with
an arm outstretched.

I put the car in
“
drive,
”
and an arm
appeared from the darkness behind her, and a hand grasped her
mouth. A face emerged from over her shoulder. My face.

She was dragged back into the house while the other
me smirked and shut the door behind him.

I sat there in the middle of the street, my hand
still on the shifter and unsure whether I should take off or go
back inside.

“
Are we having fun yet?
”
A voice to my right said.

I jumped and saw myself sitting in the passenger
seat.

“
You really should wear a seat
belt ya' know. Safety first. Go ahead and drive. Buckle up
though.
”

“
What the fuck is going
on?
”
I screamed back at him,
“tell me what the fuck is going on!
”

He picked at his finger nails
before replying casually,
“
buckle your
seat belt, and drive.
”

I glared at him and he turned his head ever so
slightly, cocking an eyebrow and motioning at the seat belt.
Reluctantly, I reached over, buckled my belt and took my foot off
the brake.

“
You really have no idea do you?
Do you know how much time you've wasted having your little
sentimental moments? You're really good at not listening to me and
I really don't like it.
”

He was clearly frustrated.

“
Yes as a matter of fact I am
frustrated, smart ass,
”
he
continued,
“You think I like being here? I
don't know why you like being here but you
’
re sure spending a lot of
time
dicking
around. I tell you to do one thing, find out about Charles
Green and what do you do? You come back to this memory. Why? What
are you accomplishing here?
”

“
Why is she like that?
”

“
Because you made her like that! I
told you not to let your emotions get the best of you, in fact I
think this is the third time I've said it. Are you even paying
attention to where you're driving? Take a look around.
”

I looked out my window and saw my house pass by me
again and again and again on both sides of the street.

“
What the hell is going on? What
do you mean I made her like that?
”

“
Jesus Christ you don't pay
attention do you? What did you feel when you found out that she was
moving away and she didn't tell you?
”

“
I
don
’t
—”

“
Bullshit, you know exactly how
you felt. Pissed off, hurt and betrayed. Now what happened in your
memory?
”

“
I don't know.
”

He put his head in his hand and pinched the bridge
of his nose.

“
Out of all the voices in
someone's head I could have been and I get to be yours.
Outstanding. The first time you thought about it she attacked you.
You felt betrayed, speaking poetically, you felt like she ripped
your heart out. Look what happened. The second
time
—why there was a second time is beyond
me, hell, why there was a first time after I told you to remember
Charles is beyond me
—
but the second time,
you felt angry. You felt like you could have just killed her on the
spot, and look what happened.
”

“
That isn't true! I wouldn't kill
her, I wouldn't kill anyone!
”

“
Oh who gives a shit what you
would or wouldn't do? That doesn't change how you felt or what you
thought about when it happened. And apparently you didn't get it
when I had you look out the window. Why are we still driving when
we aren't going anywhere?
”

I looked back out the window, my house was still
flashing past me on both sides. Embarrassed, I slowed down and
stopped in front of the driveway.

“
Ah, finally starting to catch on
eh? Come on, get out.
”

“
Why
’
d you tell me to buckle up
then?
”

“
Safety first.
”

He stepped out of the car and I
could do nothing else but follow him. I needed answers and he
obviously had some. I unbuckled my seat belt and turned my car off
before stepping out into the chilly cold
—

—
before stepping out into the room
again. The walls had taken on a sicker
shade
of gray. Drab, dinghy
and with a hint of puke green. The furniture in the room had
changed a bit too; my television now sat on its stand in front of
my coffee table. The Voice In My Head sat down on the couch and
crossed a foot over his leg.

“
So where were we?
”

“
We were talking
about
—”

“
It was
rhetorical
. As I was saying, this
place reflects your thoughts and feelings. You can change any
memory when you think about it. The things you wanted to say
instead of what you said, the things you wanted to do instead of
the things you did, how things could have happened...Whatever. Have
you honestly not realized this is all in your head? This place
we're in, this room? You can't be that slow can you?
”

I was about to defend myself and let him know I had
known that, or at least suspected it awhile back but he shushed me
before I was able to.

“
Look, it doesn't matter. You need
to get your shit together and figure out what happened to get you
in here. Put together the hypothetical situations, use some common
fucking sense, do whatever you need to do to figure out what
you
’
re doing in
here. Understand?
”

“
I think,
”
nodding my head in agreement,
“but
why does one of us die anytime I think of her?
”

“
There's bigger things to focus on
right
—”

“
No!
”
I
shouted,
“tell me why!
”

“
Fine, like I already said, you
felt angry when you found out she was moving away. It hurt didn't
it? She was the only thing you cared about in this world and she
betrays you and hurts you like that. Painful right? The things that
happen, you murdering her, her murdering you
…
That is pure emotion. An unfiltered reflection of the rage,
pain and betrayal you felt. Make sense?
”

It did.

“
Great. Now, do you have any more
questions or can you finally start focusing on how to get out of
here?
”

I looked around the room, my own living room, my own
head. The walls pulsed and throbbed in rhythm with my heartbeat.
Everything in here was my own creation. I had full control of
anything that happened inside of this place.

“
Why is my furniture in
here?
”

He held his hand up and the television remote
control appeared in his palm. He clicked the TV on and bits of
different shows played as he browsed through the channels.

“
Figured I'd make things a little
more comfortable since you
’re taking so
long,
”
he said, not even looking away from
the television,
“
so what are you still
doing here?
”

I leaned up against the walls and closed my eyes. I
had to find Charles Green.

I sat in my car of the Wonder Mart
parking lot
—
Wonder
Mart
, what a stupid
name
—
the car was off and the windows were
cracked. It was getting pretty hot and stuffy inside.

What day was it?

I watched the main entrance intently; he always came
here at least once a week for something or another. The guy spent
more time shopping for groceries than any other guy I know. I guess
that isn't saying too much considering I don't know a whole lot of
people.

A mother, with a toddler in the front seat of a full
shopping cart, came out the doors. She was visibly at the end of
her wits. The toddler squirmed around in his seat, his face red
from the screaming he must be doing. I couldn't hear him but I
could see his face, mouth open eyes closed, face red, little fists
clenched tight. The temper-tantrum pose.

There he is. He came out from behind the woman and
toddler, carrying a small hand basket. It looked like he had a
quart of milk and a loaf of bread stuck up from the top of one of
the bags.

Those goddamn glasses... I hated the way they
magnified his eyes. Those eyes... They ripped through me anytime he
looked at me.

I slumped lower in my seat, hoping he wouldn't
notice me. I could just barely see him over my steering wheel.

He was heading down the aisle to my right and
stopped at a faded-red, sub-compact car. The paint was so faded it
was almost a pinkish color. He popped the hatch and set his
groceries in the trunk, closed it and walked back to the entrance
of the store to return the basket.

How considerate.

Prick.

He dropped off the basket and returned to his
vehicle, clearly out of breath. He hopped in the car and a couple
seconds later, backed slowly from the spot and drove towards the
exit of the shopping center.

Wait...

What was in his trunk?

He had popped the hatch, and something glimmered.
Something shiny...

Like...

Chains.

He had set his groceries in the
trunk and went to close it when one of the bags spilled over,
right? And there was a claw hammer, nails and duct tape.
Wasn
’
t
there?

Is he doing home improvement or something?

My heart quickened. The last
meeting with him didn't go so well, what was he doing with chains,
a hammer
—

With a claw.

—
nails and duct tape?

How was I sure that was really what I saw?

You saw it, described it pretty well.

But I was far away from him, I might be
mistaken.

Sure, but you know you're not.

He might be doing some fixing up around his
house.

Ha! In his condition?
He
’
d
have to pay someone to do it.

He can
’
t have that much money driving a
piece of shit like that, they could be for his home. Didn't he
mention something about a leak in his house or something awhile
back?

Last time I checked, you don't fix a leak with a
hammer and nails.

Well then what is he doing with those?

Remember your last meeting with him?

The diner was busy. It was loud from all the people
talking and the waiters and waitresses hurried from table to table,
taking orders, refilling drinks, and busting tables so the next
group could be seated.

We were sat at the back of the diner near a big
window. The sun shone through and hurt my eyes a little. He sat on
the other side of me and was granted some shade from the glare of
the sun, but I didn't complain. I was at his mercy since he even
agreed to meet me in the first place.

I opened my menu, not really caring what I was going
to eat, I didn't have much of an appetite.

Without looking from his menu and
without any genuine care in his voice he said,
“
The chicken-fried steak is good here.
”

Like he actually cared.

The waitress came to our table. She was pretty.
Slim, fiery red hair, kind face and her uniform complimented her
figure nicely.

“
And what'll we be havin'
today?
”

The fake enthusiasm was far too transparent.

“
I'll have the New York steak,
medium rare with a baked potato with an ice tea to drink
”
said Charles.

Bastard had to go and get the most expensive thing
on the menu. I was the one who was going to be paying.

“
OK,
”
as
she wrote down his order,
“and for
you?
”