Chapter 9
Being dragged out from deep waters.
That was the only comparison he could find to waking up in this dark, desolate place. He could hear definite voices, but all of the words were muddled by the rain water clogging his ears. If he focused hard enough, he could almost feel the thrashing coming from behind him.
I tried. I would trade places if I could.
The longer he stayed in this weird limbo state, the more the water continued to sink. His vision gradually grew clearer, and the blurred shapes began to sharpen. It would only take a few more seconds for the first truly recognizable sound to register. Steven. Oh god, Steven was okay.
“Oi, he’s here! Jake, come over here! Oh Marc, I’m so glad to see you.”
Marc resisted the urge to grunt. Jake, of course that was the first thing Steven would ask for. A slight scowl formed on his lips, before his alter’s psychical form finally clicked. He could see him. Not just in a reflection, but in the same room. He hadn’t even considered how much he’d missed being able to genuinely share a space with the brit since their brief time in the Field of Reeds. With Steven’s warm hand clasped against his shoulder though, there was no resisting the sudden urge to pull him deep into his arms. “Oh buddy, it’s good to see you too.”
There were no attempts at stopping him. If anything, Steven seemed just as eager to lean in for the hug as he was. He buried his face deep into the crook of his friend’s neck. The brit muttered, “I was so worried. All those people, those ladies- I can’t believe it didn’t work.”
“I should have done something sooner.” He stated. “I froze, and that’s all my fault. I’m sorry I didn’t react sooner.”
Steven pulled away with wide, almost puppy dog like eyes. “Oh, heavens no! Marc, this isn’t your fault. This-”
“Actually, it is. It’s entirely his fault.”
Marc and Steven both turned their heads, and it was only then that he realized he’d somehow managed to wind up inside what seemed to be a bedroom. He’d been so wrapped up in Steven’s comforting presence, he hadn’t even noticed the black around them had disappeared. Instead, he found himself in the middle of what could only be described as a quaint hobbit hole of a bedroom. A cozy fire place, a lush homestyle bed, round wooden door, beautiful book shelves- He knew there was no way he’d ever stepped foot in a place as homey as this, and yet something about the bed itself struck him as oddly familiar. That, and the unproportionally tall book shelves.
More importantly, however, was the dead faced look-alike currently leaning against the desk. Despite sharing the same face as the both of them, the combination of facial hair, particular clothes, and over all body language gave him the appearance of a complete stranger. Even with the three seconds he’d been addressed in the car prior to their arrival at the cult, it’d felt like something was still being hidden. The man who’d spoken to them was less like Jake Lockley, and more like a momentary actor forced to fill in and say what needed to be said. He was put at a mile’s distance away, and given no time to truly take in his alter’s sight before soon being silenced. This man though, the rough leather jacket wearing avatar of Khonsu, this was Jake Lockley.
Marc hadn’t even realized he’d tensed so noticeably until Steven started subtly rubbing his back. “Don’t say that, you know it isn’t true. Perhaps if we’d been on the same page, and we didn’t have a stupid chicken squawking in our ear, he’d have been able to focus.”
“Or maybe,” Jake suggested, “If he’d just given me the body like he was supposed to, he wouldn’t have had to focus. It wasn’t your decision to make.”
“What are you talking about? It’s my body!” Marc blurted, pushing himself off the floor. “It’s me and Steven’s body, and its blood on our fucking hands, what about that isn’t our decision?”
Something akin to a patronizing grin spread across Jake’s face. “It stopped being your decision the moment you decided you were done with being Khonsu’s Avatar, and gave the title over to me. I can’t change the fact you were too much of a quivering pussy to handle the pressure.”
“Guys, I think we all need to bring ourselves down a couple levels. We’re all on the same team here. Team ‘same body’, right?” Steven attempted to intervene. “And we aren’t going to get anything out of bickering between each other…”
Marc struggled to recognize who he was even talking to anymore. Was he really on Jake’s side with this? Even after seeing the kind of shit their alter was continuing under Khonsu’s guidance? He shook his head, “No, we’re not on the same team, Steven. I don’t know why you’d want to be on the same side as a man who’s clearly killed so many people. He’s a fucking lunatic!”
“I mean, you’ve killed people too Marc.” Steven mumbled, eyes drifting towards the fire place. His own eyes softened ever so slightly. “Yeah, but- you know that’s different.”
“And how would you know? You know nothing about him.”
“Oh, and you do? I didn’t realize you’d grown to be so close to the psycho taking over our body.”
“Is that how you see me?” Jake laughed without any sign of genuine humor. “I think that says a lot more yourself, bub, than it does me.”
Jake tilted his head in the direction of Steven without moving his eyes. “Hey fella, did you notice how a minute ago he said my body, before he said your guys’?”
Steven didn’t respond. Marc opened his mouth to defend, but a single hand was raised to stop him. “Have you also noticed how, throughout this whole midlife crisis, he’s never even thought to ask you how you were doin’? If it were really both of your bodies, you’d think he’d be more worried about how his other half was holdin’ up.”
Once again, no arguments. This time Marc began to speak, only for Jake to talk over him. “-While I’m at it, I would make the bet that there hasn’t been a single time over the past month you two knuckleheads were together, that you felt truly okay. How does that sound, huh? Does the glove fit?”
The silence that followed pained more than anything Jake could have said. He searched Steven’s face for any sign of anger, or disgust at the suggestion, but all he found was shame. Shame, and something hollow behind his far away stare. Marc took a step closer, “Steven-”
A low quaking beneath their feet interrupted any attempt at consoling the other man. The whole room trembled with the harsh force, and a loud creaking noise broke through the otherwise silent room. Marc took hold of the hold of the nearest bookshelf just in time for the commotion to come to an abrupt stop. “What the fuck was that?”
Jake huffed, pulling himself away from the desk. “It’s Bilith, he’s got us drugged right now. The fucker’s messing with our brain as we speak.”
Steven gasped, “Are you serious? And you didn’t feel the need to tell us this the moment we all showed up here? Not to hurt your feelings mate, but you’re the absolute worst at communication. Who knows what twisted shit he could be implanting right now!”
Jake turned and bolted towards the door. “Which is why I’m going to head out and try to find a way to wake up and shank the guy. You two can enjoy your little therapy hour here in Steven’s space, I couldn’t care less.”
Marc growled, following quickly behind him. “No way, Rambo. We’re coming too. There’s no way I’m trusting you with any range over the body.”
The door was opened and, much to his surprise, the reveal was far less horrifying than he thought it’d be. Rather than some dark, terrifying world of Bilith’s creation, he instead found himself met with a long array of pastels. Pinks, oranges, and purples stretched out as far as the eye could see in a way that weirdly enough reminded him of a clothing commercial. He almost expected a bunch of kids wearing Old Navy jackets to come running around the corner. He stepped out behind Jake, who seemed equally confused. “Well, that’s not the sort of meddling I expected.”
“It’s pink?” Steven hummed, taking a few steps around him. “Well, I would consider myself more of a brown guy myself, but at least its cozier than that freaky black limbo from before. Before I worked up some walls back there I almost expected Slenderman to pop out and jump scare me.”
“Black limbo?” Marc repeated, “I’m sorry, but no one told us about some sort of ‘black limbo’ inside our mind.”
The rougher of the three made a noise he could only describe as a snort. “I don’t have the time to explain everything to you. Basically, whenever we’re not fronting, or asleep, you have the option to hang back in your headspace. We’ve all got one, and the limbo Steve mentioned was basically the space in between our rooms. I guess Greg felt the need to do a little redecorating?”
There was so much information given out in those three simple sentences, and Marc felt like his head was going to spin in the process. How had he never noticed this place existed? Over the few months leading up to their mix up with Arthur, when Steven was fronting more and more, how had he not noticed this place? How the fuck, after everything they went through, was there was still shit he didn’t understand about himself? For a moment his mind flickered back to the space he’d seen the last time he’d tried to meditate. He’d tried not to think of it since, but now faced with the description given, it was difficult not to think of that blood-soaked cot-
He shook his head, pushing past Steven towards Jake. “Maybe you wouldn’t have had to explain it if you’d simply told me to begin with.”
“Welp, its too late for that now, hm?”
“It’s only late because you chose to wait. Hell, none of this would have probably happened if it weren’t for your lone wolf bullshit.”
“Hey, guys, something doesn’t feel right-” Steven muttered.
Jake grit his teeth, “As if you’d have listened to me. Your nose is so high up your own ass it’s a surprise you even made it this far.”
“And how the hell did you know I wouldn’t listen if I didn’t know you even existed. You chose to make yourself untrustworthy.”
“Guys, I feel weird. Something’s happening.”
“I was never given a fuckin’ choice! This is what you needed!”
“What I needed was Steven! What I needed was someone organized, and normal, and sweet. I never asked for some crack-addicted batman knock-off!”
Jake threw the first punch. The sensation was surreal, both because it hurt like a mother fucker, and yet didn’t hurt in the slightest. His head went flying back for several seconds, though before he even had the time to process the sensation, he was already hitting back. It was as if a switch had been flicked, and all of the combat experience he’d had over his lifetime had flooded back in with a force. Within a minute both he and Jake were on the ground, arms flailing for any chance at making an impact.
“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint ya bub, but that’s what you got! I’m sorry for actually having the balls to defend us instead of letting monsters who deserve to suffer walk around scott free!” Jake shouted, fist slamming into his ribcage. The phantom feeling of his bones breaking knocked the wind out of him long enough for another punch straight to the face. A bit of blood sputtered from his lips, hips bucking up and turning them over. He aimed straight for the chin, which resulted in a satisfying loss of a tooth.
“I’m sorry I’m not some blood hungry-confident killer like you! I’m sorry for trying to become a better person, instead of acting like a petty fuckin’ child!” He aimed straight for the chin. In the faint distance he could hear Steven saying something, but all of the words were drowned out by the sound of his own beating heart.
Lockley slammed him back on what, while walking on, had felt like a soft, almost cloud like surface. Now, it felt cold and metallic with the sudden gash straight into the floor. His vision blurred, Jake’s unreadable expression taking up his entire line of sight. Before he could utter another word, his head was bashed again, and again.
“Petty child? You think I’m the child? I’ve seen and done shit that you couldn’t imagine. I’ve had to carry all of the gruesome baggage you can’t even bare to live through yourself, and I’m sorry if that’s too much for your pathetic little head to handle. I’m sorry if even if all I’ve done for you, I’m still a fuckin’ failure who can’t even do his one job right!”
Another rumble brought both of them to a dead silence. The whole space trembled beneath their legs, and in seconds Marc’s body was thrown several feet away. A mix of pain, and total numbness took over. It was a sensation that lasted far longer than the quake, and left Marc staring up at the pastel abyss above him.
It was at that moment both men realized Steven was gone.
~★✡★~
Neither he, nor Marc were what he’d call a morning person.
He wouldn’t even call themselves an afternoon person. No matter what time of day they woke up, Steven always found himself exhausted before he even lifted his head. This was normal though, after all, his coworkers did always complain about how they “couldn’t bring themselves out of bed if it weren’t for a good cup of coffee.” He always laughed along with the sentiment despite not drinking the beverage himself. The meaning still stood; everyone was tired.
It was with that reasoning Steven was shocked to find himself opening his eyes in a body that was completely rejuvenated. No aches, no drowsiness, no weight sitting on his chest. If anything, he was quite energized. The sunlight streaming across his face brought an encouraging warmth that seemed to lift him from the small cot he’d been laying on. For several moments he waited to hear Marc’s confused voice coming from somewhere around the room, but it didn’t happen. No annoyed grunting, no tugging from the back of his mind, he was completely alone in what felt like a healthy, eager body.
For a second, he wondered if this is what being on cocaine felt like.
A laugh from across the room broke his train of thought. His blood ran cold. For a few, strangely satisfying seconds, he’d forgotten where he was. His eyes soon landed straight on Bilith, who currently seemed more concerned with watering a random plant than he was about him. “No, you’re not high Steven. This is what normal people feel like when they wake up. Do you like it?”
Steven’s face turned a deep shade of red. The murderer. The slimy, mother killing, murderer. A man who was currently digging inside his brain, messing around with his friends and pinning them against one another. He stood up, surprisingly unrestrained. “What did you do to me?”
“I’ve already explained that before. When I’m talking to someone, I prefer-”
“No, I mean, what are you doing inside my head?”
“Ah, so you got to walk around for a bit before I woke you up, hm? Sorry about that, I was trying to wake you up sooner, but I didn’t want to risk pulling up one of your other alters. You’re a little more manageable to talk to, you understand-”
“That’s not what I asked.” Steven walked up to the leader with a new found confidence he wasn’t quiet used to having. He puffed up his chest and took an extra step closer than he normally would, as if to threaten him with the whole two inches he had on the guy. “I said what are you doing inside my head?”
Bilith sighed, but didn’t make any move to step away. A look almost akin to disappointment spread across his face. “Oh Steven, I’m trying to heal you. Do you have any idea just how broken you are?”
Steven shook his head. “Of course, I know we’re bloody broken, we have multiple voices in our head for crying out loud. Marc can barely even handle having a job. I’m well aware that we’ve got some-”
“No, not Marc,” The cult leader spoke, voice dropping into something softer and more saccharine. He took a step forward, and it took everything in him to hold his ground. “-or Jake, or the body as a whole, I mean you. Come on, think a little. Look me in the eyes and tell me you seriously believe you’re okay.”
Steven grit his teeth. He knew the answer, and he had no doubt so did Bilith. He’d known long before Marc poked his head into his life that something wasn’t right. If he was truly okay, he wouldn’t be 37 and still single. He wouldn’t be getting out of bed every day merely because he knew his other alter needed someone to look to as an example. Hell, if he were truly okay, maybe he’d have the strength to stop Marc from reaching for a bottle every time a shift didn’t end well. His chest ached, fingers trembling.
No, he wasn’t okay.
“Good, that’s good that you can finally acknowledge that. I know it takes a lot of work to admit it.” Bilith smiled without a hint of genuine joy behind it. For a few seconds after he could feel his heart rate rise. His grasp on the body began to slip, and his vision flickered. No, no, he didn’t want control right now, Marc-
“No, no, no.” A hand dropped on his shoulder, and any hint of Marc or Jake taking over vanished. It was just him, and the thought of that left his body shrinking up. For a split second, he could almost swear he saw Bilith shrink up as well. “I don’t want to talk to Marc. I want to talk to you. Do you even know what they’re doing right now?”
Steven stayed silent, so he continued. “They’re fighting. They’re bickering right now, inside your head, not even noticing that you’re gone. Wouldn’t you rather be here, where you can feel normal for once?”
“I would rather be anywhere than beside a Jim Jones knock off.” He suddenly spat, “There were innocent people up there who just wanted a way out, and you’re using them for your own gain. I-I don’t know exactly what that gain is, but it makes me sick, and I would rather be mentally ill than in whatever cultist afterlife you’re offering!”
Something flickered behind the other man’s eyes. Something Steven struggled to read, but knew very well wasn’t good. “That’s really quite a shame, Steven. I thought you’d be the sensible one.”
~★✡★~
“Steven! Steven, where are you!”
“He can’t hear us.” Jake growled; arms crossed. “I told you a million times, dumb ass, he’s either fronting or asleep. Either way, we’re fucked.”
“But I almost had control there for a second.” Marc reasoned, “You felt it too, right? He was trying to switch; he was in distress. He needed me.”
Jake rolled his eyes, turning them back towards the pinkish-orange expanse around them. “Well, he’s not getting it like this. Not unless we can find a way to tear down whatever that freak’s got built up around here.”
Marc shouted. It was the type of guttural cry that did nothing other than alleviate the smallest bit of frustration built up inside his chest. It lasted for several seconds, before dying away in the pastel clouds around them. Silence took over for almost a minute after, before Jake finally snorted. “Feel better bub?”
Marc sighed, “No, not really.”
“Well, that makes two of us. Now, if you don’t mind me, I’m going to try and find a way out of this joint.”
Jake turned and headed in a seemingly random direction. It was difficult to tell whether he actually had a place in mind, or if he was simply wandering. Either way Marc made no attempt at stopping him. His attention remained solely on Steven, and the look on his face whenever Jake asked if he was truly okay. Ever since Ammit, they’d been trying so hard to be balanced. Equal days, same job, same clothes, everything was shared. They were both finally getting the life they wanted without having to fight for time in the light. Or at least, that’s what he’d thought. Had he really been so blind to his own alter, that he didn’t notice just how unhappy he was? His heart clenched, stomach dropping.
An earth quake – brain shake rumbled once again. The power was enough to leave his body stumbling to the ground. All blood and pain from the fight had long since healed, and though the crash had been rough, he felt absolutely nothing. Nothing aside from the unstableness radiating through his own mind. It was a miracle one person could live here, let alone three.
Unstable. Almost uninhabitable.
Marc sat deadly still and waited for the shaking to settle. As soon as the ground seemed fully steadied, the ex-mercenary leaped to his feet. “Hey, Jake, did you mean what you said earlier? About Steven?”
Jake called without as much as a turn back. “Yup.”
“And how do you know that?”
“Know what, that you don’t actually give two shits about us? It’s pretty obvious bub.”
“How. How is it obvious?”
This finally seemed to draw the attention of the rougher male. He stopped in his tracks, body still facing away. “What’s your goal here Spector?”
“No, no goal.” Marc shook his head, struggling to keep the annoyance from leaking out. “Just- talk to me here. For a few seconds, let’s talk. Why do you think I wouldn’t care?”
Jake finally spun around. The face he was met with was unreadable. Anger maybe? Hatred? Perhaps pure and utter apathy? There were so many things to take away from the other man’s silence. All responses, he reasoned, were justified. He was a terrible host. If he had the choice, he’d rather give body over Steven in an instant than force the man to deal with any more of his shit.
He could hear their body’s heart beat quicken, and another quake broke through.
Marc’s eyes widened, “Wait, that there! That’s it! Jake, what were you thinking about?”
Jake blinked. He gave the alter a few extra seconds to process, before ultimately making the move to rush forward. “Think about it, that Bilith guy’s in our head, right? He said it himself, if he’s going to be in someone’s mind, he’d rather it be somewhere calm and collected. Why would you want to go digging around in somewhere fucked up?”
“Everyone at the camp is fucked though, why go out of your way to hunt down the saddest fucking people if you don’t want to deal with the baggage?” Lockley pointed out, to which Marc shook his head. “They aren’t the saddest people, that’s the thing. Everyone I saw there was thrilled to be a part of it. He’s hacking into their brain, and fixing the chemical unbalances so he doesn’t have to deal with the trauma. They get to spend the last few months of their life in peace, and he gets to feed off of healthy, happy minds!”
The meaning must have finally clicked, because a firm hand slapped against his shoulder. “So, if we burn this place to the mother fuckin’ ground, then Bilith will have no choice but to leave! That’s the way to use the ol’ noggin.”
“Great! Fuck yeah, let’s do it!”
“Yeah!”
“You do it!”
“Wait, do what?”
“Get rid of this unicorn barf. Make everything sad and angsty, I don’t know. You’re the edge lord who knows how to use this place.”
Marc hadn’t even noticed a smile wormed its way onto Jake’s face until it was suddenly gone. Instead, what was left was a scowl, mixed with frustration and disappointment. “You know I can’t do that.”
“What? Why the fuck not?” He groaned, “We just figured it out, stop being so difficult.”
This was, apparently, not the right answer. Jake whipped back around and darted back in the direction he’d been heading in. Marc sputtered some attempt at a sentence, only to be silenced by the sudden appearance of a door. It’d came out of seemingly nowhere, and the rusted metal exterior clashed heavily with the happy go-lucky world around them. Marc furrowed his brows. “What’s that?”
“It’s my headspace.” Jake grunted, “If you want to get out of here, you’ll have to do it yourself.”