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The streets are dark and wet. The car’s headlights don’t really work, even though I’m sure I turned them on, only illuminating the bit right in front of my face. Malon is quiet next to me and I’m driving as fast as I can, considering I can’t see anything and I’m certain something is right behind me and trying to fucking get me.
I know that because I can feel it in the pit of my stomach, the knot in it tightening. It’s instinctual, like how I know how to breathe or the fact that I’m even thinking right now. Whatever is back there…it’s bad. And it’s trying to get me.
But I’m being careful, because Malon might be right that I have to get the fuck away from the hotel. I have no reason to believe he’s not right considering he’s the one who got me out of the hotel room in the first place and he’s the reason I’m alive right now.
So trying not to die is at the very, very top of my priority list.
I can still feel the blood on my skin, my sweat making the cuts sting. We’re on a straight, narrow road, and I have no idea where we’re going or how the fuck we got here.
And I can’t really see anything ahead on the road, so this seems like a good time to ask questions.
“Where am I going?“ I ask.
“I’m not really sure,“ he says, leaning into the headrest. He looks very tired and thinner than the last time I saw him. Then it occurs to me that this might not be him, after all. Maybe this is just some sort of weird possession induced hallucination. “It’s not.“
“You can read my mind?“ Oh, shit. That can’t be good.
“Not…exactly,“ he says. “But I can make a pretty educated guess regarding what you’re thinking. I know a lot about you.“
“I don’t know whether to be creeped out or flattered,“ I mutter.
He chuckles. “That’s fair. I don’t know where to start.“
“Wherever you want,“ I reply, clutching the steering wheel. “I just…I need to know.“
He sighs, sinking into the seat. “Ask your questions, I’ll answer them as best as I can. But don’t stop driving. I don’t want anything to catch us.“
“Okay, let’s start there. What are you talking about? What’s after us?“
He turns to look at me. “There are…influences here. Influences in power. They don’t want you to break out, and there’s every chance they’ve already gotten everything they want out of you.“
“Wait,“ I say, shaking my head. “But if Luke’s theory is right, and demons infect people who are going to affect other people, then why wouldn’t they go for someone with more reach than me?“
“Because it’s not about fame,“ he replies. “It’s about being able to affect change in these people. Your art gets to people. It’s not about them knowing your name. And the fact that they think they can reach out to you and connect personally, that helps the influences in your body.“
“You keep calling them influences,“ I say. We’re driving into what looks like a very dark tunnel. I can’t see shit, the headlights barely seem to make a dent, and I’m almost fucking certain I’m going to crash into something. I’m just going fast enough to keep moving. “Are you one of them?“
“Yes,“ he says.
“But you’re also my therapist.“
“Well, I was one of them before I was your therapist.“
“It’s probably an ethics violation, possessing someone and then being their therapist,“ I say. “You already know everything about me. And how can you exist out there and in here too?“
“You exist out there and in here,“ he replies.
“Yes. And I’m nobody’s therapist,“ I say through my teeth.
“For what it’s worth, I was planning to tell you,“ he says. “I just didn’t think that you would believe me. Not to start with.“
“Well, I believe you now, I guess,“ I say. “But there are still a lot of things I don’t understand.“
“Brake,“ he says.
I tap down on the brake but the car comes to a full stop almost immediately, the tires skidding on the wet street. I’m not sure how I know this, but if I don’t do something, I think we’re going to drive right into a wall, so I turn the steering wheel to the left as hard as I can.
It’s an overcorrection. It sends the car into a spin. Everything happens very quickly after that. I hear the sound of something screeching–high pitched, loud enough to make my ears hurt. I get launched to the side, the airbag opening and expanding. I feel the plastic hit my face before I can think about what’s happening. It smells like plastic for a second, and then it smells like blood and copper and something off and rotten.
