Pretending

8: Hallucinating

I woke up in a black void, wondering where I was. I immediately knew it was a dream. I knew that nothing could hurt me in this. Well, not physically. I hoped. So I just stood there, in that black void, waiting for something to happen, or for me to wake up. But nothing happened. And I wasn't waking up. I was getting worried. What was happening? Did I die? Was I in limbo or something? The thoughts of where I was kept invading my mind as I decided to walk around in this dark place. But there was nowhere to go. I felt as if I was stuck in place, but also as if there was nothing except me here. I was alone in this inky abyss. That hit me hard. I fell down to cry, but I didn't hit a floor. I just kept falling as I screamed and cried. Then I hit a familiar wooden floor. I was in OJ's room, the orange stains still fresh. I could still see a few shards of his body left too. Then I looked up. And I saw him. But he didn't look right. His cup was cracked like a a spiderweb in every place possible, and his eyes welled with tears. The orange juice inside of him was mixed with blood, and the outside of his cup was stained with the red liquid too. I saw his face, and it horrified me. His right eye was completely gone, his left bleeding like a waterfall, which stained the flow of tears coming from it. Many of his teeth were either cracked or broken off. The angry, sad, and confused look on his face scared the living hell out of me, so much that I jumped back and fell on the floor with a loud thud. I could see that he was partially transparent, and that could only mean one thing. This was OJ'S ghost, back form the dead to haunt me. But this was just a dream. It had to be.

Right?

He floated closer towards me, while I cowered on the floor. I could feel tears forming as I pleaded for mercy, constantly apologizing for my horrible misdeed. He only got closer. I felt helpless. Like there was nothing I could do but let him get closer. Then he dove straight into me.

"Trophy!"

"Gaah!"

I awoke in a cold sweat, Cheesy standing over me. I guess it really was a dream. But it felt so real....

"Dude, You about made me soil my pants! Well, I would if we weren't naked all the time."

"Heh...I'm fine Cheesy...Just...a nightmare. You don't gotta worry."

"You sure? You were screaming and crying and...it was just horrible to listen to! How can I not worry?"

"Hey...it's okay."

He looked at me, worried, but it slowly turned to a smile.

"Let's get some breakfast, okay? But remember, don't tell anyone else about this. Got it?"

*sigh*

"Yes, MOM."

"Heh...c'mon ya weirdo."

We walked down to the kitchen, Cheesy walking ahead of me. I was still thinking about that dream. It couldn't have been real, right? I did wake up from it. But I could really feel him jump at me, and the cold chill I got when he went through me. I heard from Soap that Bow and Dough were ghosts now, since they never got recovered. Did the same happen to OJ? Was he in that mansion in the woods too? Or...was he haunting the hotel now? My head started to hurt from all the questions. I excused myself from our walk to the kitchen to head to the bathroom.

I looked through the shelves until I found one that helps with headaches. I was never one to memorize the weird names of these pill bottles. I grabbed 2 pills from an orange container, got a cup of water, and swallowed. My head was still hurting, but I assumed that they just took a while to kick in. Meanwhile, I looked in the mirror, almost completely leaning on the sink. I stared at what I had become. I was a murderer. I put OJ's life in the hands of his worst rival. And it was my fault. I destroyed Paper's heart. All because Taco made me. I swore I would stop her somehow, like, betray her at the last minute or something. I needed to remember to do that. But what I would have to do next worried me more. Who would I have to kill now? What lives would I have to ruin? Who did I have to blame? My head hurt even more now, almost making me fall over. I walked over to the door to pull it open, but it was locked. Weird. I swore I didn't lock it. I went to unlock it, but I couldn't. Did Paper turn the door around or something? Because now, the lock was on the other side. I pulled on the knob, trying to get the door to budge. But it didn't. I kept shaking the door violently, but it still didn't move an inch. I fell on the floor after my grip loosened. I looked up...only to see that terrifying ghost of OJ from my dream staring back.

"Murderer...murderer...MURDERER!"

"No....no! Please! I...PLEASE!!"

I shut my eyes, too scared to open them. His ghastly voice stopped ringing around the room. I slowly opened my eyes again, only to see that he was gone. I saw that the lock was back on my side again. I crawled back up from the cold bathroom floor and opened up the door, wanting to eat to clear my mind. I saw Paper on the other side.

"T-Trophy...why were you...screaming?" He said through his small, but noticable sobs. I could tell he still wasn't over the initial shock of seeing his lover dead.

"I'm fine. Just...thought I saw something."

Paper was slightly confused as to why I wasn't threatening him, or making fun of him.

"Paper, I have some shred of decency. Now, please get out of the way before I lose that shred."

He quickly stepped out of the way, letting me walk out of there. Even with my act, I still wouldn't do those things to someone who just had their closest one die. No matter what, I still at least care somewhat. I still care about OJ, even though I killed him as Pepper. If I could, I would recover him first, if I had to kill more, which I undoubtedly had to. What happened in that bathroom...it felt so real. Was I really being haunted? If so, how did he even know it was me? He was asleep, besides, I was disguised as Pepper! My headache got worse as I kept thinking about it. I had to stop. But I couldn't. I was being haunted by someone I killed under someone else's name, and I was scared out of my mind. So I just went back to my room and wrapped myself up with my blankets. I just layed there in fear, and in thought. Would everyone I kill do this? I didn't want a dozen ghosts torturing me. I mean, who would? I just kept thinking, and fearing what would become of me. Eventually, all I could think of was fear. Fear of the ghosts that wanted me to burn in hell. Fear of what Taco could make me do. Fear of myself. If I was going to be a murderer...

I didn't want to be me.