Post by Evelyn Kuller on Feb 10, 2015 3:48:30 GMT -6
Some days before Revo 21...
When she finally returned, she found him looking at twitter. She arched an eyebrow at this sight.
Eve: I thought you didn't like social media.
Mr. Bowie: I don't. But it's useful for observing people. They're all so open with things, never realizing who might be watching, seeing what makes them strong...what makes them weak.
Eve: No, actually, I think it's mostly for people to fuck each other.
Mr. Bowie: ...that too, yes.
A momentary silence.
Mr. Bowie: But, this time, it had another use. I kept watch on what you tweeted out these past few weeks...
Eve: ...and?
He smiles at her, a real and genuine one.
Mr. Bowie: I'd wager you found your anchor. The Caldwell boy.
She nods.
Eve: Correct. Carey is...my family. He's the person I cherish most.
Mr. Bowie: He seems loud and annoying.
Eve: They're part of the charm.
Mr. Bowie: If you say so. It's your anchor.
He stood up and walked past her, into the kitchen. She took a seat in the living room and waited. He returned with two tea cups. She shook her head.
Eve: No thanks, I can't taste it.
Mr. Bowie: Eve. The inability to taste, it's part of the curse. If you find your center, then you'll be able to taste again.
Eve: ...okay, and?
Mr. Bowie: If you keep up things you'd do in your center, eating, drinking...then it will make it easier to regain it should you slip too far one way or the other.
Eve: So...go with it regardless because that's what a person would do?
Mr. Bowie: If you wish to look at it that way.
Eve shrugs, picking up the cup and sipping at the tea. It, unsurprisingly, tasted of nothing. But she gulped it down regardless.
Mr. Bowie: ...that was straight from the kettle.
Eve: Ah, it's fine. My throat'll heal.
Mr. Bowie: Of course. Well, let's move onto the next step, yes?
Eve: Yes. Please.
He nods, sitting down across from her and tipping the cup to his lips to get a sip of tea.
Mr. Bowie: The next step will be a difficult one, Eve.
Eve: How hard?
Mr. Bowie: You'll have to go into your own mind.
Eve: ….uh....first off, how?
Mr. Bowie: That part is simple.
He removes from his pocket a small baggie full of herbs.
Mr. Bowie: These are drugs I picked up many years ago, when I was trying to find myself. They allowed me to enter my own mind and interact with the parts of me.
Eve: And how did that go?
Mr. Bowie: I bit through the tip of my tongue and nearly choked to death on my own blood.
Eve: ….
He smiles.
Mr. Bowie: But that wouldn't kill you even if it did happen! So it's fine.
She looks down at her lap, suddenly sheepish. She doesn't speak for a bit, but finally manages.
Eve: Ah...I don't really think that's something I wanna do. Not yet, at least.
Mr. Bowie: Too hard?
Eve: Too...much. I don't know if I'm ready confront everything that way yet. It sounds like too big a trip.
Mr. Bowie: Mmm, I expected that.
He brought his cup to his lips again and tipped it back, and it finally occurred to Eve that he hadn't actually drank any of the liquid, and had merely been miming it. She blinked a few times before it registered, her mouth contorting into a snarl.
Eve: You drugged me, didn't you?
Mr. Bowie: Mmmmmhmmmmm.
Eve: Oh you fucking asshol-
Before her bloodlust could begin to flare up, the world began to distort around her. The walls stretched out, the ceiling extended higher and higher, tables and chairs sinking into the floor. The cup fell from her hands, shattering on the floor as she felt her body go out of sync. She slumped back in her chair and slowly slid out of it, falling to the floor herself. She stared up at the lights, watching them slowly dim, as the man appeared in her field of vision. He smiled down at her.
Mr. Bowie: Don't be afraid. This will only help you.
She had many, many choice words for him about that, but she couldn't feel her jaw anymore. He stepped from view, and she was left staring at the light again as it slowly faded. In no time she was left in complete darkness, stretching for endless miles in every direction. On the bright side, she could feel her body better, and was able to sit up. She looked in each direction, finding nothing, and sighed.
Eve: All alone in my head. Just what I always wanted.
?: Oh, Eve. You're never alone in here.
Her head snapped up in the direction of the voice, seeing two shadowy figures just beyond the limits of what she could actively perceive. One of them stepped into her perception and she was confronted with herself. Or, at least, it was her face. The rest of her wasn't quite right. She was dressed like the Doktors in her life, wearing a lab coat over a dress shirt and slacks. The lab coat was covered in blood splatters, the shirt cut to ribbons in places. She sported a grin that seemed to stretch far beyond what a person should be able to manage, and it never left her face.
Eve: I'm going to take a stab in the dark and assume you're not my humanity.
The other Eve shook her head.
?: No. I'm your blessing, Eve.
Eve: ...Eh. I might not hate it, but a blessing might be stretching it. But, I guess you're not what I was expecting...
The Perfect Evil: Oh? What did you expect? Me to be in all black, maybe with horns or something?
Eve: ...Yes. That's actually exactly what I was expecting.
The Perfect Evil: Well! One thing we have in common is we don't want to be what anyone expects of us. Besides, this coat is comfy.
Eve: ….I can't deny it looks really comfy.
The Perfect Evil: Exactly! Plus, deep pockets! I can fit all kinds of sharp shit in here!
To emphasize, she reaches into her pockets and comes out with hands full of bladed objects of various shapes and sizes, most of which are covered in crimson.
Eve: Huh. That could be handy. But, then, I'd just look like everyone else in my life.
The Perfect Evil: Not if you kill them all!
Eve: ….
??: You're ruining your own cause there.
The other figure steps fully into her perception and she could only gawk at him. He had bleached blonde hair, skin stained with tattoos...looking at him, there was only one word she could find to describe her humanity.
Douchebag.
Eve: Hoooooooly shit.
The Perfect Evil: Yeah...that's another reason I went for a more “normal” look.
2004 Jon Collins: Someone sounds jealous they can't pull this off.
The Perfect Evil: Look Eminem, no one could pull that off least of all you.
2004 Jon Collins: Eminem?! Listen here you obnoxious labbitch, I'll have you know-
They continued to shout at one another as Eve sat and watched. She slowly looked up at the nothingness of the sky and shook her head.
Eve: My humanity and my curse are arguing with each other over fashion. I think I've successfully tripped more balls than those SectionB kids combined, and would like to go home now.
Another voice sounded out, that of her “friend” Mr. Bowie, which seemed to come from all sides, filling the black space of her mind.
Mr. Bowie: I'm sure it's an amazing show. But we've only just begun. You've met them both, now it's time to control them.
Eve: Does controlling involve muzzles? Because hoo boy do I need two of those right now.
2004 Jon Collins: Kinky.
He flashes her a wink.
Eve: ….you know I'm starting to feel things again and all I'm feeling is disgust I think this is progress I think I'm good for the day.
Mr. Bowie: Eve. Focus. Don't let them distract you.
Eve: Easier said than fucking done, thank you!
Mr. Bowie: EVE!
The voice is, for that one shout, briefly amplified to thundering proportions, Eve's hands covering her ears as both her humanity and her curse briefly shake and almost collapse from the force. Eve slowly lets go of her ears to look back up.
Eve: Yes...yes, I'm listening. I'm...I'm ready. Let's get this over with.
Mr. Bowie: Thank you. Now, you need to use your anchor.
Eve: Probably an obvious question here, but, how?
The voice doesn't respond. Instead, the response she gets is the sound of metal hitting ground. She turns her head to her left and finds a massive metal spike laying next to her. She blinks at it.
Mr. Bowie: Pick it up.
Eve shrugs and pushes herself to her feet. She reaches down and gets a grasp on the spike, beginning to strain to lift it. It was far heavier than she had been expected. Hell, she was surprised it HAD weight.
Mr. Bowie: Put your back into it! Feel the weight! Let the feeling of the weight seep into your memory, forever!
With a particularly unladylike grunt, she managed to heft it up, holding it in both hands. She stumbles back a few steps from the weight, but manages to remain upright. Both the humanity and the curse look on amused.
Eve: Okay...don't think I'll be forgetting this anytime soon.
Mr. Bowie: Good. Now, place it in between and in front of the two of them.
Eve: Right, okay....
She slowly steps over to the required spot, facing both her sides.
2004 Jon Collins: You look stupid.
The Perfect Evil: Perhaps she does, but it's hardly her fault. It's that annoying man's...that thing is quite heavy, I wonder what it'd do to his head....
Eve: Shaddup....
Mr. Bowie: Now, plant it!
She strains, arcing her back, hefting the spike up, and driving it into the ground...and it only sunk a few inches in. She stared at it in disbelief.
Eve: Thaaaat's a good sign.
Mr. Bowie: It'll take more than just a bit of force to put it down. You'll have to put your whole body into it!
Eve nodded and threw her body at it, her flesh smashing into metal, sinking it a few more inches. She repeated this again and again, slamming her body into the spike repeatedly, shooting real pain through her body each time, but only managing to sink it in a few inches at a time. She slumped down next to it, breathing hard, and slammed her fist against the ground in frustration.
Mr. Bowie: Not good enough! Put everything you have into it! Feel it against your skin! Remember the feeling of your body crashing into all that weight! The feeling of it sinking down! Take all of that, remember it, store it in your mind! AND DRIVE IT IN!
She let out a scream, and threw her body straight down on top of it. It slammed into her stomach, rocketing pain through her body, but along with the pain she felt it slide into the ground completely. She rolled off the top of it and landed on the ground, panting despite her lack of needing to breathe. She felt fatigue, felt it in every part of her. She hadn't felt exhaustion herself before, and she grasped it in her mind, recording the feeling forever. She stared up at the sky and smiled.
Eve: Something new....I felt something new....I am so tired....
Mr. Bowie: Good. That's the kind of sign we want. But we're not done! Get to your feet, Eve, you still have work to do!
She nodded, pushing herself to her feet. She came to face the two sides of herself again, both of which looked none too pleased with what was going on.
2004 Jon Collins: You're wasting your time.
The Perfect Evil: Mmhmm. You'll feel quite angry when you realize this achieved nothing.
Eve: Huh....I think they're scared.
Mr. Bowie: They should be. Now, build walls.
Eve: Uh.
Mr. Bowie: You heard me. You don't have to do it by hand, you can use your mind but you must erect walls around them. Don't just erect it completely around them, build it brick by brick, keep the memory of the sounds of it coming together in you. Take your time. And remember it.
She nodded, slumping down to her knees. The two halves of her looked on uncertainly as, slowly, walls began to come into existence around the two. Neither one of them could do anything as they slowly became trapped in separate rooms just for them, with only a door shaped hole left in the front of each. When the last brick was laid, Eve fell over onto her side, exhaustion coming in even stronger now. She coughed, and looked back up at the sky.
Eve: Okay...now what...?
Mr. Bowie: What else. You built rooms for them, but there's no doors.
Eve: Oh of course...how silly of me...right then.
With some difficultly she managed to get to her feet, and faced the two again. Both merely glared, and Eve felt some happiness that they weren't opening their mouths. She faced the room holding her humanity, and dropped a door in front of it. But in this she was surprised, as the door was not what she expected. Despite what she imagined dropping in place, what was there instead was a mostly-transparent slab. She blinked.
Eve: I put a door there but there's not a door. I don't know why I'm surprised.
Mr. Bowie: Did you really expect them to let you seal them away easily? They're fighting back. As is, that door isn't as real to you as they are, so they can do what they want. If you don't hurry, this will be for nothing.
Eve: Shit, okay, what do I do?!
Mr. Bowie: Make the door real. Punch it.
Eve: ...so take the Carey approach. Fuckin' A.
She ran up to the room, stopping in front of the slab, and face to face with her humanity. It smiled at her. She ignored it, and raised her fist. And punched it. At first it felt like nothing, her hand just kind of stopping suddenly where the slab began. But she kept punching, and slowly she began to feel her fist impacting something. Hit after hit came, the sound of a fist hitting wood coming in clearer and clearer each time, the feeling of her fist slamming into wood becoming truer with each strike. The transparency faded, as a door began to appear, Eve relentlessly punching the door. Recording the sound of it, the feeling of it to her mind forever. Making it real. She punched it one last time, and knew it was real. Now she could only be watched from a small window on the door, her humanity now glaring instead of smiling.
Mr. Bowie: Good. Now, the other one!
She turned and ran to the other room, placing another slab as she did, and repeated the process. Hit after hit, making the door real to her, causing it to appear, locking her curse away in a room. She stumbled back, and fell on her behind, leaning against the spike in the floor for support. Her two other halves stare at her from the windows, scowling.
2004 Jon Collins: You think this will help you? You're always going to have us in you. We're unavoidable.
The Perfect Evil: Especially me. I'll always be that little voice in your head...telling you to kill everyone close to you.
Eve: Oh, good for you both. You can say whatever you want...but I'm finally feeling in control now. And you know what I say? Fuck off.
And then the windows on both doors are covered with a piece of metal slamming over them, completely cutting off contact between her and her other halves. She stared at the doors. No sound came from them. Her two halves could not speak to her. She was finally able to hear only her own voice in her head.
Eve: I could get use to this.
Mr. Bowie: You might just get to. But, while I appreciate the theatrics of sealing them both off, you're not done.
Eve: Of fucking course I'm not...right, now what?
Mr. Bowie: Last step. Controlling how much of them you let in.
Eve: ...do I gotta?
The silence is the only answer she gets.
Eve: ...figures...right. How.
Mr. Bowie: Feel your anchor up.
Eve: Excuse me?
Mr. Bowie: Just do it.
She looks at it, and shrugs. She reaches a hand up, and begins to run it up, from the base to the tip. She expected a smooth shaft, but instead found herself hitting something near the top. She reached out and grasped it, and realized it was a metal circle, attached to the shaft. She then realized it was sectioned, meaning she could move it around in a circle around the shaft. She blinked, and reached up to realize there was a second one just above it.
Eve: Okay, I can kind of see where this is going. There's two of these, and two doors. So what am I missing?
Mr. Bowie: Rope.
Immediately after he said that, two lengths of rope dropped down in front of her. She looked at them, then the spike, then the doors, then back.
Eve: Right. I can see where this is going, I don't need instruction for this bit.
Mr. Bowie: I'd judge you so harshly if you did.
She rolled her eyes but picked up the first rope, moving to the door holding her curse. She looped the rope through the door handle, and tied it to it. She walked back to the spike, finding the rope going taut just as she fed the rope through the first circle and tying it to it. Then, anticipating what the voice would tell her to do next, she grabbed the rope and walked back to the door, letting it run through her hand as she did, recording the feeling of it in her hand as she walked to and from the door. She then picked up the other rope and repeated the process with the door holding her humanity. When she tied it, the voice sounded again.
Mr. Bowie: Give them a spin.
Eve: Right...
Eve grabbed the circle for her humanity and started to spin it, the rope coiling around the spike, and opening the door. As it opened more and more, Eve felt more feeling rush into her. At first it was pleasant...normal...but as the door opened more and more it quickly stopped being normal, it felt like the emotions were crowding in her, scrambling around one another to be the one she felt, trying to force her to feel them. For moments she felt like she'd burst, until she reached out and gripped the circle, spinning it the opposite way, the rope uncoiling and shutting the door. When it closes, the rush of emotions disappears, and Eve falls to her knees.
Eve: SHIT! FUCK! CHRIST! THE HELL!?
Mr. Bowie: I told you before of the dangers of focusing entirely on your humanity while shutting off the other side of you. I felt this was the best way to show you that.
Eve: It was....so much...too much...
Mr. Bowie: I know. But now you understand. And more than that...you can control it, Eve. You've achieved far more than I thought you'd be able to here. You've sealed off your other halves, put the power of how much they contribute to you solely in your hands, and now you're just on the cusp of finding “you.”
She sat on her knees, panting, as she processed this. It felt like just days ago she was an emotionless husk, pretending to show affection to those closest to her when in reality she couldn't even muster feeling for them...and now here she was. She was so close now to achieving the one thing she wasn't certain she'd ever be able to.
Defining who “Eve” was, free of any other influence.
She felt happiness at this.
And she reflected on that fact.
And she smiled.
Eve: Thank you.
Mr. Bowie: Not quite yet. There's still some work to do.
Eve: Bring it on. I'm ready.
A chuckle from all around her.
Mr. Bowie: So eager. But I think you've had enough for one day. Give me a few minutes, and I'll get you out of your own mind.
She looked up, at the closed doors keeping the halves of her that wanted to control and define her themselves from her. And her smile grows wider.
Eve: Take as much time as you need...there's nothing to fear in here anymore.
–
When she came to, she was laying on her back in the living room of Bowie's house. She sat up and looked around, surprised to see it look so...normal. She looked at him incredulously.
Eve: How? I mean, I drove a spike into the ground! I built walls, doors! And yet this room looks like none of it happened...how did you do that?
He smiles.
Mr. Bowie: I'll never tell. What you did, was real to you. You made the spike real, the walls, the door. You locked them away. If I told you how it worked, all that would do is weaken that for you.
Eve absorbed this, and nodded.
Eve: That's fair. I can live with that. It worked, so that's the only important thing.
Mr. Bowie: Correct. Now then...
Eve: Hey, look...whatever you want...could it maybe wait? I'm....tired.
He smiles again.
Mr. Bowie: I was going to suggest you get some sleep, actually.
She nods.
Eve: Yeah. It's weird, I haven't been tired in months. But now all I want is to fall asleep.
Mr. Bowie: Then let's give you what you want.
He held a hand out to her, and she took it, him helping her to her feet.
Mr. Bowie: Follow me.
He turned and began to walk deeper into the house, Eve following behind him. They stopped in front of a room, and he pushed the door open, revealing a bedroom.
Mr. Bowie: I'm afraid there's only one bed in this house. You have to understand, when I chose this place I wasn't planning on guests.
Eve: Wouldn't a normal person plan for that?
There's silence a moment, before he lets out a laugh.
Mr. Bowie: Alright, alright, the truth is this was the only feasible place. I had to make small sacrifices to the cover to gain the important ones. Good eye.
Eve: Thank you! I try.
They step into the room, and Bowie heads for a nightstand, upon which stands a glass, a bottle of whiskey, and a pill bottle. Eve arches an eyebrow.
Mr. Bowie: Ah, sorry. You see, I'm quite tired too, it's an exhausting process for the both of us.
He fills the glass with whiskey before popping open the pill bottle, removing two tablets and placing it into the drink.
Eve: So what's with that?
Mr. Bowie: Ah, yes, well...I don't sleep very well normally. I've found I much prefer putting myself under chemically. Which also means I have no need for comfort. So, please, feel free to use the bed. I'll be fine over here.
He downs the glass and then walks to one of the corners of the room, pressing his back against the wall and then sliding down to a sitting position. He leans his head against the opposing wall and, within moments, is out. Eve lets out a yawn. She then looks down at him, then at the bed, then back at him.
She walks over to him, sitting down next to him against the wall. She leans her head against his shoulder, and slowly falls asleep. Happy.
End.
When she finally returned, she found him looking at twitter. She arched an eyebrow at this sight.
Eve: I thought you didn't like social media.
Mr. Bowie: I don't. But it's useful for observing people. They're all so open with things, never realizing who might be watching, seeing what makes them strong...what makes them weak.
Eve: No, actually, I think it's mostly for people to fuck each other.
Mr. Bowie: ...that too, yes.
A momentary silence.
Mr. Bowie: But, this time, it had another use. I kept watch on what you tweeted out these past few weeks...
Eve: ...and?
He smiles at her, a real and genuine one.
Mr. Bowie: I'd wager you found your anchor. The Caldwell boy.
She nods.
Eve: Correct. Carey is...my family. He's the person I cherish most.
Mr. Bowie: He seems loud and annoying.
Eve: They're part of the charm.
Mr. Bowie: If you say so. It's your anchor.
He stood up and walked past her, into the kitchen. She took a seat in the living room and waited. He returned with two tea cups. She shook her head.
Eve: No thanks, I can't taste it.
Mr. Bowie: Eve. The inability to taste, it's part of the curse. If you find your center, then you'll be able to taste again.
Eve: ...okay, and?
Mr. Bowie: If you keep up things you'd do in your center, eating, drinking...then it will make it easier to regain it should you slip too far one way or the other.
Eve: So...go with it regardless because that's what a person would do?
Mr. Bowie: If you wish to look at it that way.
Eve shrugs, picking up the cup and sipping at the tea. It, unsurprisingly, tasted of nothing. But she gulped it down regardless.
Mr. Bowie: ...that was straight from the kettle.
Eve: Ah, it's fine. My throat'll heal.
Mr. Bowie: Of course. Well, let's move onto the next step, yes?
Eve: Yes. Please.
He nods, sitting down across from her and tipping the cup to his lips to get a sip of tea.
Mr. Bowie: The next step will be a difficult one, Eve.
Eve: How hard?
Mr. Bowie: You'll have to go into your own mind.
Eve: ….uh....first off, how?
Mr. Bowie: That part is simple.
He removes from his pocket a small baggie full of herbs.
Mr. Bowie: These are drugs I picked up many years ago, when I was trying to find myself. They allowed me to enter my own mind and interact with the parts of me.
Eve: And how did that go?
Mr. Bowie: I bit through the tip of my tongue and nearly choked to death on my own blood.
Eve: ….
He smiles.
Mr. Bowie: But that wouldn't kill you even if it did happen! So it's fine.
She looks down at her lap, suddenly sheepish. She doesn't speak for a bit, but finally manages.
Eve: Ah...I don't really think that's something I wanna do. Not yet, at least.
Mr. Bowie: Too hard?
Eve: Too...much. I don't know if I'm ready confront everything that way yet. It sounds like too big a trip.
Mr. Bowie: Mmm, I expected that.
He brought his cup to his lips again and tipped it back, and it finally occurred to Eve that he hadn't actually drank any of the liquid, and had merely been miming it. She blinked a few times before it registered, her mouth contorting into a snarl.
Eve: You drugged me, didn't you?
Mr. Bowie: Mmmmmhmmmmm.
Eve: Oh you fucking asshol-
Before her bloodlust could begin to flare up, the world began to distort around her. The walls stretched out, the ceiling extended higher and higher, tables and chairs sinking into the floor. The cup fell from her hands, shattering on the floor as she felt her body go out of sync. She slumped back in her chair and slowly slid out of it, falling to the floor herself. She stared up at the lights, watching them slowly dim, as the man appeared in her field of vision. He smiled down at her.
Mr. Bowie: Don't be afraid. This will only help you.
She had many, many choice words for him about that, but she couldn't feel her jaw anymore. He stepped from view, and she was left staring at the light again as it slowly faded. In no time she was left in complete darkness, stretching for endless miles in every direction. On the bright side, she could feel her body better, and was able to sit up. She looked in each direction, finding nothing, and sighed.
Eve: All alone in my head. Just what I always wanted.
?: Oh, Eve. You're never alone in here.
Her head snapped up in the direction of the voice, seeing two shadowy figures just beyond the limits of what she could actively perceive. One of them stepped into her perception and she was confronted with herself. Or, at least, it was her face. The rest of her wasn't quite right. She was dressed like the Doktors in her life, wearing a lab coat over a dress shirt and slacks. The lab coat was covered in blood splatters, the shirt cut to ribbons in places. She sported a grin that seemed to stretch far beyond what a person should be able to manage, and it never left her face.
Eve: I'm going to take a stab in the dark and assume you're not my humanity.
The other Eve shook her head.
?: No. I'm your blessing, Eve.
Eve: ...Eh. I might not hate it, but a blessing might be stretching it. But, I guess you're not what I was expecting...
The Perfect Evil: Oh? What did you expect? Me to be in all black, maybe with horns or something?
Eve: ...Yes. That's actually exactly what I was expecting.
The Perfect Evil: Well! One thing we have in common is we don't want to be what anyone expects of us. Besides, this coat is comfy.
Eve: ….I can't deny it looks really comfy.
The Perfect Evil: Exactly! Plus, deep pockets! I can fit all kinds of sharp shit in here!
To emphasize, she reaches into her pockets and comes out with hands full of bladed objects of various shapes and sizes, most of which are covered in crimson.
Eve: Huh. That could be handy. But, then, I'd just look like everyone else in my life.
The Perfect Evil: Not if you kill them all!
Eve: ….
??: You're ruining your own cause there.
The other figure steps fully into her perception and she could only gawk at him. He had bleached blonde hair, skin stained with tattoos...looking at him, there was only one word she could find to describe her humanity.
Douchebag.
Eve: Hoooooooly shit.
The Perfect Evil: Yeah...that's another reason I went for a more “normal” look.
2004 Jon Collins: Someone sounds jealous they can't pull this off.
The Perfect Evil: Look Eminem, no one could pull that off least of all you.
2004 Jon Collins: Eminem?! Listen here you obnoxious labbitch, I'll have you know-
They continued to shout at one another as Eve sat and watched. She slowly looked up at the nothingness of the sky and shook her head.
Eve: My humanity and my curse are arguing with each other over fashion. I think I've successfully tripped more balls than those SectionB kids combined, and would like to go home now.
Another voice sounded out, that of her “friend” Mr. Bowie, which seemed to come from all sides, filling the black space of her mind.
Mr. Bowie: I'm sure it's an amazing show. But we've only just begun. You've met them both, now it's time to control them.
Eve: Does controlling involve muzzles? Because hoo boy do I need two of those right now.
2004 Jon Collins: Kinky.
He flashes her a wink.
Eve: ….you know I'm starting to feel things again and all I'm feeling is disgust I think this is progress I think I'm good for the day.
Mr. Bowie: Eve. Focus. Don't let them distract you.
Eve: Easier said than fucking done, thank you!
Mr. Bowie: EVE!
The voice is, for that one shout, briefly amplified to thundering proportions, Eve's hands covering her ears as both her humanity and her curse briefly shake and almost collapse from the force. Eve slowly lets go of her ears to look back up.
Eve: Yes...yes, I'm listening. I'm...I'm ready. Let's get this over with.
Mr. Bowie: Thank you. Now, you need to use your anchor.
Eve: Probably an obvious question here, but, how?
The voice doesn't respond. Instead, the response she gets is the sound of metal hitting ground. She turns her head to her left and finds a massive metal spike laying next to her. She blinks at it.
Mr. Bowie: Pick it up.
Eve shrugs and pushes herself to her feet. She reaches down and gets a grasp on the spike, beginning to strain to lift it. It was far heavier than she had been expected. Hell, she was surprised it HAD weight.
Mr. Bowie: Put your back into it! Feel the weight! Let the feeling of the weight seep into your memory, forever!
With a particularly unladylike grunt, she managed to heft it up, holding it in both hands. She stumbles back a few steps from the weight, but manages to remain upright. Both the humanity and the curse look on amused.
Eve: Okay...don't think I'll be forgetting this anytime soon.
Mr. Bowie: Good. Now, place it in between and in front of the two of them.
Eve: Right, okay....
She slowly steps over to the required spot, facing both her sides.
2004 Jon Collins: You look stupid.
The Perfect Evil: Perhaps she does, but it's hardly her fault. It's that annoying man's...that thing is quite heavy, I wonder what it'd do to his head....
Eve: Shaddup....
Mr. Bowie: Now, plant it!
She strains, arcing her back, hefting the spike up, and driving it into the ground...and it only sunk a few inches in. She stared at it in disbelief.
Eve: Thaaaat's a good sign.
Mr. Bowie: It'll take more than just a bit of force to put it down. You'll have to put your whole body into it!
Eve nodded and threw her body at it, her flesh smashing into metal, sinking it a few more inches. She repeated this again and again, slamming her body into the spike repeatedly, shooting real pain through her body each time, but only managing to sink it in a few inches at a time. She slumped down next to it, breathing hard, and slammed her fist against the ground in frustration.
Mr. Bowie: Not good enough! Put everything you have into it! Feel it against your skin! Remember the feeling of your body crashing into all that weight! The feeling of it sinking down! Take all of that, remember it, store it in your mind! AND DRIVE IT IN!
She let out a scream, and threw her body straight down on top of it. It slammed into her stomach, rocketing pain through her body, but along with the pain she felt it slide into the ground completely. She rolled off the top of it and landed on the ground, panting despite her lack of needing to breathe. She felt fatigue, felt it in every part of her. She hadn't felt exhaustion herself before, and she grasped it in her mind, recording the feeling forever. She stared up at the sky and smiled.
Eve: Something new....I felt something new....I am so tired....
Mr. Bowie: Good. That's the kind of sign we want. But we're not done! Get to your feet, Eve, you still have work to do!
She nodded, pushing herself to her feet. She came to face the two sides of herself again, both of which looked none too pleased with what was going on.
2004 Jon Collins: You're wasting your time.
The Perfect Evil: Mmhmm. You'll feel quite angry when you realize this achieved nothing.
Eve: Huh....I think they're scared.
Mr. Bowie: They should be. Now, build walls.
Eve: Uh.
Mr. Bowie: You heard me. You don't have to do it by hand, you can use your mind but you must erect walls around them. Don't just erect it completely around them, build it brick by brick, keep the memory of the sounds of it coming together in you. Take your time. And remember it.
She nodded, slumping down to her knees. The two halves of her looked on uncertainly as, slowly, walls began to come into existence around the two. Neither one of them could do anything as they slowly became trapped in separate rooms just for them, with only a door shaped hole left in the front of each. When the last brick was laid, Eve fell over onto her side, exhaustion coming in even stronger now. She coughed, and looked back up at the sky.
Eve: Okay...now what...?
Mr. Bowie: What else. You built rooms for them, but there's no doors.
Eve: Oh of course...how silly of me...right then.
With some difficultly she managed to get to her feet, and faced the two again. Both merely glared, and Eve felt some happiness that they weren't opening their mouths. She faced the room holding her humanity, and dropped a door in front of it. But in this she was surprised, as the door was not what she expected. Despite what she imagined dropping in place, what was there instead was a mostly-transparent slab. She blinked.
Eve: I put a door there but there's not a door. I don't know why I'm surprised.
Mr. Bowie: Did you really expect them to let you seal them away easily? They're fighting back. As is, that door isn't as real to you as they are, so they can do what they want. If you don't hurry, this will be for nothing.
Eve: Shit, okay, what do I do?!
Mr. Bowie: Make the door real. Punch it.
Eve: ...so take the Carey approach. Fuckin' A.
She ran up to the room, stopping in front of the slab, and face to face with her humanity. It smiled at her. She ignored it, and raised her fist. And punched it. At first it felt like nothing, her hand just kind of stopping suddenly where the slab began. But she kept punching, and slowly she began to feel her fist impacting something. Hit after hit came, the sound of a fist hitting wood coming in clearer and clearer each time, the feeling of her fist slamming into wood becoming truer with each strike. The transparency faded, as a door began to appear, Eve relentlessly punching the door. Recording the sound of it, the feeling of it to her mind forever. Making it real. She punched it one last time, and knew it was real. Now she could only be watched from a small window on the door, her humanity now glaring instead of smiling.
Mr. Bowie: Good. Now, the other one!
She turned and ran to the other room, placing another slab as she did, and repeated the process. Hit after hit, making the door real to her, causing it to appear, locking her curse away in a room. She stumbled back, and fell on her behind, leaning against the spike in the floor for support. Her two other halves stare at her from the windows, scowling.
2004 Jon Collins: You think this will help you? You're always going to have us in you. We're unavoidable.
The Perfect Evil: Especially me. I'll always be that little voice in your head...telling you to kill everyone close to you.
Eve: Oh, good for you both. You can say whatever you want...but I'm finally feeling in control now. And you know what I say? Fuck off.
And then the windows on both doors are covered with a piece of metal slamming over them, completely cutting off contact between her and her other halves. She stared at the doors. No sound came from them. Her two halves could not speak to her. She was finally able to hear only her own voice in her head.
Eve: I could get use to this.
Mr. Bowie: You might just get to. But, while I appreciate the theatrics of sealing them both off, you're not done.
Eve: Of fucking course I'm not...right, now what?
Mr. Bowie: Last step. Controlling how much of them you let in.
Eve: ...do I gotta?
The silence is the only answer she gets.
Eve: ...figures...right. How.
Mr. Bowie: Feel your anchor up.
Eve: Excuse me?
Mr. Bowie: Just do it.
She looks at it, and shrugs. She reaches a hand up, and begins to run it up, from the base to the tip. She expected a smooth shaft, but instead found herself hitting something near the top. She reached out and grasped it, and realized it was a metal circle, attached to the shaft. She then realized it was sectioned, meaning she could move it around in a circle around the shaft. She blinked, and reached up to realize there was a second one just above it.
Eve: Okay, I can kind of see where this is going. There's two of these, and two doors. So what am I missing?
Mr. Bowie: Rope.
Immediately after he said that, two lengths of rope dropped down in front of her. She looked at them, then the spike, then the doors, then back.
Eve: Right. I can see where this is going, I don't need instruction for this bit.
Mr. Bowie: I'd judge you so harshly if you did.
She rolled her eyes but picked up the first rope, moving to the door holding her curse. She looped the rope through the door handle, and tied it to it. She walked back to the spike, finding the rope going taut just as she fed the rope through the first circle and tying it to it. Then, anticipating what the voice would tell her to do next, she grabbed the rope and walked back to the door, letting it run through her hand as she did, recording the feeling of it in her hand as she walked to and from the door. She then picked up the other rope and repeated the process with the door holding her humanity. When she tied it, the voice sounded again.
Mr. Bowie: Give them a spin.
Eve: Right...
Eve grabbed the circle for her humanity and started to spin it, the rope coiling around the spike, and opening the door. As it opened more and more, Eve felt more feeling rush into her. At first it was pleasant...normal...but as the door opened more and more it quickly stopped being normal, it felt like the emotions were crowding in her, scrambling around one another to be the one she felt, trying to force her to feel them. For moments she felt like she'd burst, until she reached out and gripped the circle, spinning it the opposite way, the rope uncoiling and shutting the door. When it closes, the rush of emotions disappears, and Eve falls to her knees.
Eve: SHIT! FUCK! CHRIST! THE HELL!?
Mr. Bowie: I told you before of the dangers of focusing entirely on your humanity while shutting off the other side of you. I felt this was the best way to show you that.
Eve: It was....so much...too much...
Mr. Bowie: I know. But now you understand. And more than that...you can control it, Eve. You've achieved far more than I thought you'd be able to here. You've sealed off your other halves, put the power of how much they contribute to you solely in your hands, and now you're just on the cusp of finding “you.”
She sat on her knees, panting, as she processed this. It felt like just days ago she was an emotionless husk, pretending to show affection to those closest to her when in reality she couldn't even muster feeling for them...and now here she was. She was so close now to achieving the one thing she wasn't certain she'd ever be able to.
Defining who “Eve” was, free of any other influence.
She felt happiness at this.
And she reflected on that fact.
And she smiled.
Eve: Thank you.
Mr. Bowie: Not quite yet. There's still some work to do.
Eve: Bring it on. I'm ready.
A chuckle from all around her.
Mr. Bowie: So eager. But I think you've had enough for one day. Give me a few minutes, and I'll get you out of your own mind.
She looked up, at the closed doors keeping the halves of her that wanted to control and define her themselves from her. And her smile grows wider.
Eve: Take as much time as you need...there's nothing to fear in here anymore.
–
When she came to, she was laying on her back in the living room of Bowie's house. She sat up and looked around, surprised to see it look so...normal. She looked at him incredulously.
Eve: How? I mean, I drove a spike into the ground! I built walls, doors! And yet this room looks like none of it happened...how did you do that?
He smiles.
Mr. Bowie: I'll never tell. What you did, was real to you. You made the spike real, the walls, the door. You locked them away. If I told you how it worked, all that would do is weaken that for you.
Eve absorbed this, and nodded.
Eve: That's fair. I can live with that. It worked, so that's the only important thing.
Mr. Bowie: Correct. Now then...
Eve: Hey, look...whatever you want...could it maybe wait? I'm....tired.
He smiles again.
Mr. Bowie: I was going to suggest you get some sleep, actually.
She nods.
Eve: Yeah. It's weird, I haven't been tired in months. But now all I want is to fall asleep.
Mr. Bowie: Then let's give you what you want.
He held a hand out to her, and she took it, him helping her to her feet.
Mr. Bowie: Follow me.
He turned and began to walk deeper into the house, Eve following behind him. They stopped in front of a room, and he pushed the door open, revealing a bedroom.
Mr. Bowie: I'm afraid there's only one bed in this house. You have to understand, when I chose this place I wasn't planning on guests.
Eve: Wouldn't a normal person plan for that?
There's silence a moment, before he lets out a laugh.
Mr. Bowie: Alright, alright, the truth is this was the only feasible place. I had to make small sacrifices to the cover to gain the important ones. Good eye.
Eve: Thank you! I try.
They step into the room, and Bowie heads for a nightstand, upon which stands a glass, a bottle of whiskey, and a pill bottle. Eve arches an eyebrow.
Mr. Bowie: Ah, sorry. You see, I'm quite tired too, it's an exhausting process for the both of us.
He fills the glass with whiskey before popping open the pill bottle, removing two tablets and placing it into the drink.
Eve: So what's with that?
Mr. Bowie: Ah, yes, well...I don't sleep very well normally. I've found I much prefer putting myself under chemically. Which also means I have no need for comfort. So, please, feel free to use the bed. I'll be fine over here.
He downs the glass and then walks to one of the corners of the room, pressing his back against the wall and then sliding down to a sitting position. He leans his head against the opposing wall and, within moments, is out. Eve lets out a yawn. She then looks down at him, then at the bed, then back at him.
She walks over to him, sitting down next to him against the wall. She leans her head against his shoulder, and slowly falls asleep. Happy.
End.
