Let Me In

Part 1

"LET ME OUT! MOTHER FUCKERS LET ME OUT!"

It was difficult to describe what had come over him. This wasn't an entirely new sensation, by any means. Out of everyone trapped inside Marc's twisted mind, he undoubtably had the most experience when it came to staying inside. While Steven had managed to reach out and grab more and more of that precious time in the light, Lockley hardly bothered. Struggling seemed pointless when he knew there wasn't a reason to front. Unlike the brit, he knew his place. He knew when, and when not to take control.

However, this was different. He wasn't asleep, or held tightly by the uncomfortable embrace simply observing gave. No, he had room. It wasn't a lot; hell, it wasn't even enough for him to sit down in. It was as if he was in a literal box, left with nothing but the few inches to move his fingers and toes in. It was room though, much more than backing gave. Was he in control? What had Marc gotten themselves into?

"I SAID, LET ME OUT OR I SWEAR TO GOD- I WILL RIP YOUR MOTHER FUCKING-"

Any sight he had was limited to a single crack of light in the side of the box, though it was too thin to truly see out of. All it gave was vague insight on himself. For example, he was wearing a weird wash of gray. Long sleeve, lazy sweat pants, stuff he'd never picture Marc nor Steven wearing. He could also make out a strange lack of bruises on his arm. He hadn't really felt any either, possibly for his first time ever. No bruises, no aches, no gashes, just an uncomfortable sense of being in control, and the eerie feeling that he was, for once, alone. It seemed impossible, Marc and Steven were always there, even if the same didn't apply to him. And yet, he found himself completely and utterly solitary, with not nothing to do other than stand in this wretched- thing.

"PLEASE, SOMEONE, LET ME OUT. PLEASE. I CAN'T DO THIS, LET ME-"

The sound of footsteps silenced his screaming in an instant. It shouldn't have, if anything he should have started shouting louder, and yet Jake found himself oddly still. As if the slightest shuffle would cover up the faint voices from the outside.

"Where are we? Shouldn't we be dead?"

"I don't know, but whatever it is, its fucking with us. Some guy in a mustache-"

"A mustache?"

"Yes, the Ammit worshipper, only this time he had a mustache-"

"Well, a weird time for a new do if you ask me."

"Fuck, listen to me Steven!"

Steven, Marc. They were here. He wasn't entirely sure how, but they were here. Without second thought Jake began to thrash once more, this time with his entire body back and forth. The whole box jostled and clanged around him, a sight they wouldn't be able to ignore.

"Marc! Steven! Please, help me! I'm trapped! Marc, Marc, for fuck's sakes PLEASE!"
The thrashing persisted for several minutes, but the longer he moved, the more apparent it became. His arms grew tired, and his voice became hoarse. Legs that were once strong seemed weak under the pressure of his own upright body. Why weren't they here? He'd screamed, they had to of heard. If he could hear their voice, then there was no way they couldn't hear him.

It's because you're unwanted.

Jake's eyes burned. He should have known this was going to happen, it was stupid to even try to get their attention. Still, there was no denying the pain that welled in his chest the longer he found himself standing. When minutes must have turned into hours, he no longer could bring himself to have hope. He was stuck, finally done for. It was only a matter of time he supposed, before-