The White Shadow 1: The Dancer

Chapter 17

Dennis was pretty annoyed. No, in fact, Dennis was fucking apoplectic. If he existed, he would have probably strangled Darryll there and then, despite the obvious of Darryll being something of his host.
"Oi!" He yelled as Darryll bawled his eyes out Diane shoulder, "What are you doing! Little Song is gonna get daddy Song and we're all gonna be in deep shit if you don't move!"
Darryll's eyes snapped back into focus, and he lifted himself off of Diane's shoulder. She was still soaked in tears, so she wiped her eyes with her right sleeve, revealing golden gemstones that shone with determination. Darryll asked, "So do you know where the exit is? I was unconscious when I got bought in."
Diane smiled, "Don't worry, I'll get you out. Just stay behind me."
And then she pushed the closet door down and ducked out. Darryll turned back to Dennis, and spoke quickly and harshly, "I know what I'm doing, so shut the fuck up."
"Or what?" Was Dennis's incredulous, grinning reply, "You can't get rid of me. Now listen, and listen properly. I helped you successfully blow up those three assassins, but then you got caught when you refused my help in the other apartment. What did that get you? Knocked out. Again. Honestly pathetic. Why do you bother-"
And Darryll ducked back out of the closet to Daine.

The hospital wasn't massively difficult for Darryll and Diane navigate. Diane was able to cloak at every intersection or turn to check around corners, and the pair were lucky enough to make it to the lobby without any competition. From there, the two simply pretended to be nothing less than normal, walking steadily out of the front doors and to the parking lot. Immediately, Darryll noticed something important. "That car is gone."
Diane looked back at Darryll, who's face was furrowed in worry, "Which one?" She asked.
"The one I came in," Darryll replied, "It was parked right outside the door. It was a big black Volvo, licence plate LIB56 DUR."
Diane peered around. There was a red car, a blue car, and two grey ones, but no black ones. Now Darryll was pacing, his head dipped in concentration. "That was probably the Dancer's boss, and they wanted me alive for Verez, but given that they haven't stuck around for my recovery..." Darryll stopped and began to repeatedly tap his foot on the ground, his mind racing. Diane watched, eagerly, keeping silent as so not to disturb the machine. Darryll's head suddenly jerked back up. "Do you have a car?"
Diane nudged her friend playfully, "You can just hot-wire the Dancer's, right?"
"Yep," Darryll agreed, "So which one is it?"

It was the grey Sudan with a fresh coat of paint and Diane behind the wheel. Darryll sat shotgun this time, his head leaned far back against the headrest, eyes misted. Somewhere in the back of his skull Dennis's voice buzzed like a mosquito, a constant drone of noise. Darryll listened helplessly as the noise slowly drew nearer, crawling, clawing up the sides of his cranium like a twisted demon comes up the depths of hell. Darryll turned to Diane. "Is there a cafe or gas station or something nearby?"
"Do you need the toilet?" She asked.
"Yeah," Darryll sighed, shrugging, "Something like that."

"You have three minutes." Darryll said, clearly, "Speak."
Dennis chuckled, "You're lucky as hell that the toilet was empty."
"It's two in the morning." Darryll told his brother, "So no one's going to be using this station. Is that all you wanted to say? Should I go back to Diane now?" Darryll pointed over his shoulder with his thumb as he sat upon a closed toilet lid, his brother standing beside him.
"Oh, right, Diane," Dennis chuckled, "Great display of emotion you put on for her in that closet. You should go into acting."
Darryll's eyes narrowed, "We're not all psychopaths here, Dennis."
"Well it's mighty convenient you decided to gush when you did is all I'm saying. Not when you stabbed an innocent boy in the arm?" Dennis displayed his palm as a way of presenting the situation, "Or when you killed three men in your apartment? You did a good job distracting yourself from me with that shoddy revolver, but I was always watching, you deceitful sociopathic fuck." Then, as Darryll averted his eyes, Dennis continued, "Don't lie to yourself, cause I am you, and I don't like being lied to- are you crying?"
As tears began to well up in Darryll's eyes, Dennis cried out in laughter, his voice becoming shrill and feral, "You are pathetic! What is the point? What are you crying about? That I'm gonna be with you for the rest of your life? That you killed a couple people a week-ish ago? Please!" Dennis slammed his forefinger into his temple and leaned closer to Darryll, "How do you think I got here, huh? How do you think those fifty-odd classmates without faces or limbs or anything useful got inside your fucking head? You thought that was just a dream?" Dennis paused, and then leaned back again, against the door of the cubicle, "You killed those people. You should've gone to school, not Danny, and you should've been mutilated, not him. Worst of all, you should've been there for me when I was-"
"I should've been there for you?" Darryll cried, incredulously, "You never said a single good thing to me my whole life! And when mum stopped treating us like sons and instead like ghosts, you vanished into your room to do homework and apparently hard fucking drugs!" Darryll climbed off of the seat and leaned forward to Dennis, staring hard, his dark, shadowy eyes bright with white hot hatred, "you never gave a fuck about yourself, so why should I give one about you?"
Dennis sighed and shrugged his shoulders offhandedly, "Just don't try to make yourself into a victim. You're a murderer, an assailant, and now a carjacker. Get a grip-"
Darryl had already slammed the cubicle door shut.

Daine sat up suddenly as she heard the slam, and watched as Darryll stormed out of the gas station toilets by himself and walk over to the car. Diane let him in, and asked, "What was that?"
Darryll sighed, leaning his head back and closing his eyes, "My problems."
Diane narrowed her eyes, before relaxing a little to ask an important question, "Darryll?"
He opened his eyes and turned to her, "Yeah?"
Diane took a deep breath, and asked, "What's stopping you from ditching me again?"
"I didn't ditch you. I asked you if you wanted to leave." Darryll's face was hidden behind his mass of hair, but his voice was shaken.
Daine continued. "I just thought, that when I was with the Dancer, she treated me well and gave me what I wanted, even though her final intentions were awful, and I-" The words were like thick cement, stuck in her throat, "I just worry that-"
"Yeah, I get it." Darryll replied, "I kill people. I get you to kill people. It's not good, and I should feel bad. I really want to, I really want to feel what you do sometimes." Darryll's head dipped lower, and his voice continued to shiver, "But you don't need to worry." Darryll finally lifted his head and gave Diane the only genuine smile he could remember giving anyone. "My head's full of demons," He whispered, "And you're the exorcist."
Diane shivered, "Are you sure that you're okay?" She asked, her brow furrowing in concern.
Darryll gave a dry chuckle, "Not since school." He brushed the hair out of his eyes, wiping sweat from his forehead, "Since Danny died."
Darryll was most definitely not okay, Diane thought. He was finally mentioning the incident, almost two years after the fact. Diane leaned over to her friend, and tried to look him in the eyes, a challenge with how much hair there was in the way. She spoke gently, "It's not your fault Darryll."
"I stayed home for some fucking Game Jam, and Danny went to school for me," Darryll's voice was now begining to waver much more than before, "And the Verez blew it up, cause Dennis-"
Darryll couldn't finish. Diane watched as he stopped, pausing with focus as if he was listening to someone in his ear. Then he said one word. "Drive."
"Excuse me?"
"Drive, Diane. We have a job to finish."