Let Me In

Part 3

"Okay bud, lets just run this over one last time - Bloody hell Marc, we've already gone over it, like, a billion times! You know very well what happened! I was behind the bar, organizing the liquor - I've told you so many times that you don't need to do that, no one cares about the order - shut it! It's soothing! Anyway, I was just getting to the Ts when this big burly man walks in, and starts causing a ruckus. Says somethin' about me bopping his mate in the nose, before BAM! I'm outside!"

They let out a low grunt. Times where the two truly shared the body were rare for a multitude of reasons. For one, it was taxing. Flipping back and forth with the flick of a switch took work, especially when Steven was as frantic as he was. Pushing was always involved, and there was only so much their already fucked up brain could take. The other main reason spawned from how intimate such a state tended to be. When one or the other was in a reflection, it was different. They were an outside observer, distanced enough from the other alter to where they could both breath if they wanted to. When sharing, however, any space was nonexistent. The lines between who was doing what blurred, and certain things like bodily movements became one. Things like breathing, blinking, adjusting, it was neither Steven nor Marc. Only them.

No matter how many times they'd practiced it, the state never ceased to leave Marc stiff in the joints. "And they mentioned something about your accent, right? You said they commented on it?"

He nodded, lowering his head for another sip of his glass. It'd been over an hour since they'd gotten home from the incident in the alley, and Steven still wasn't sure who'd been the one to grab the bottle of brandy tucked under their bed. It was tempting to shrug it off as all Marc, but after finding his hands coated in blood for the first time in weeks, it was difficult to say for certain. "Yeah, somethin' about how 'an accent won't save you', or something stupid like that."

"I can't believe I didn't wake up for that. I mean, if there ever was a trigger, getting threatened on the job feels like one for me. – I mean, it triggered someone. I'm assuming whoever it was knew a why we were getting threats in the first place."

That didn't make the lingering guilt any less potent. On most occasions where violence was necessary, that's where he came in. That's where Steven was supposed to go to sleep, and wake up without ever realizing the dark shit that had gone down to keep them safe. Since imprisoning Ammit this concern had faded somewhat, but it never truly disappeared. Steven wasn't meant to see that side, and even if neither of them had full control over when they were awake, it still felt like a failure only being alerted once the blood had been shed.

They readjusted themselves. "Oh god, what if the other alter is a full on serial killer? For all we know, our body could be causing mayhem on a nightly basis! – That wouldn't make sense. – It's Tuesday Marc, Tuesday. We missed an entire day yesterday, one where apparently the alter decided to come into the pub and give the bloke from tonight a shiner. Who knows what the else the fella could be doin'. – Well, whoever he is, he has to serve a purpose. There has to be a reason we're starting to see him."

Marc could tell for certain it was him this time who'd made the move to down the rest of their glass with one hard toss. The empty drink was slammed on the table, and the rest of the bottle was soon swiped up by its neck. To his surprise though, Marc found themselves swaying to get out of their chair. The unsteadiness only lasted a few seconds before balance was soon regained, but it'd been jarring nonetheless. He hadn't even realized they'd drunk enough to warrant that sort of reaction. "Where we goin' Steven?"

Steven didn't respond. The man simply strolled into the bathroom and took his place in front of the mirror. A bit unnecessary, since there'd been a mirror pretty close to where they'd been sitting, but he figured now wasn't the best time. Their eyes narrowed.