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He was circling along the windows, his eyes focusing back on me at the question. Monty was the only hallucination that talked back to me, I may as well take advantage of it.
“Is it ever?” His voice was mysterious as he stopped in front of me. He was easily seven feet of a monstrous nightmare. Two winding horns raised over his head and his glowing, blue eyes were focused on me.
His features were more defined up close. The shadows receded to display an open rib cage, blue fire burning bright where his organs should have been.
Monty’s bony face ended in a point, like a helmet and bone fused together to form his visage.
“No,” I admitted. “But I’d rather not be sent to a state facility. Give me the streets over prison any day.”
“Then have the streets.” He gestured to the door. I took a step forward before noticing that shadow figures now lined the walls once more as if to show me the way.
They were fairly harmless as far as my hallucinations went. They didn’t talk to me like Monty, and they didn’t have features like my more terrifying ones.
In this moment, it was as if Monty could control them.
That’s new.
There was no time to look into it more, I didn’t want to linger while I dissected my waking nightmares.
His footsteps followed behind me until I stepped out into the streetlights. The door closed with a thud behind me, and for a brief moment, I wondered what he did to pass the time when he wasn’t around.
Nothing.
You made him up.
You’re crazy, remember?
Fuck... I was right. Sometimes he felt so real that I had to remind myself he was just in my lonely mind, nothing more.
The walk to the hostel was full of terrifying figures and monsters again. The run-in with the fucking cops had my skin crawling to the point I wanted to scream.
Whatever reprieve I’d gotten from slamming the crowbar around was long gone. Now I was a walking ball of stress, and I longed for that comfortably numb feeling.
My key was in my hand before I even reached the front door, so I didn’t have to fumble with it or linger as I made my way to my private room.
Generally, hostel private rooms were expensive, but this place only had the small rooms, barely bigger than a closet, and they were cheap enough that even I could afford one.
For a few days at a time, at least.
The faded walls and lumpy mattress had never looked so damn inviting. I locked my door, stripped, then flopped onto the bed.
The ceiling fan whirred above me, pushing stale air around as I slowly gave into my exhaustion.
“You’re safe.”
The words were part of my daily mantra, and I clung to them with everything I had. Because things have and could be a whole lot worse.
This was my current home sweet home.
While the money lasted at least.
Harlow
Saturday Morning
“Wake up!” Monty’s shrill voice had me sitting up so fast my head spun.
“What the fuck, Monty?” I groaned, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes.
