The Sleepwalker

The Sleepwalker Part Two: Somniphobia

"Sit down, please, Mr. Ben Walker."

Ben did as he was told, upon entering the same metal room that was cold, devoid of anything except two chairs, put in opposite corners of the room. The person who spoke, a metal-armed man in a white lab coat, sat in one corner and had gestured to Ben to sit in the other.

"Now, I hear you've been having nightmares?" Asked the Agent, who pulled up his metal arm and was typing on a keyboard only he could see. Ben shifted uncomfortably.

"Yes, that I have." He said, his voice sounding echoey as it reverberated around the pumpkin that sat on his head, eventually escaping out the carved mouth. It was goopy, slimy, and overall entirely disgusting. He did not wear it because he wanted to.

"About what exactly?" The Agent pressed on.

"I... I don't exactly remember to be honest. It's more of the fear that I'll wake up somewhere without a thought of how I ended up there in the first place." Ben cocked his head, causing the pumpkin to slide a bit. "One may call that... sleepwalking."

The Agent didn't even look mildly worried. "Ah yes, sleepwalking. Interesting case with you. The anomaly only comes out when the eyes perceive darkness... In other words, whenever you close your eyes to blink or sleep..."
"Do you really need to explain my symptoms every time I walk in this room?"

The Agent looked up from his arm. "Have you not realized? Your last few therapists were driven into insanity by none other than you." He said, leaning back in his chair as though completely relaxed. "The first was found bashing his head against the wall as if he was trying to break his skull, the second had overdosed on medicine, whether intentional or not, and the third claimed to see eyes peering out at him from the darkness of his closet, just days before he disappeared. Other Agents fear you, Ben. I do not. Now, I am here to discuss your past. What do you remember, exactly?"

Ben did not want to tell him but knew that compliance would reward him with things like special meals and some outside time. Well, as outside as you can get while stuck on a huge prison in the solar system, just out of reach of human scanners and cloaked to defend against their telescopes. Ben was just coming up on his twentieth year aboard the SSC, and he hated it with a passion.

"Fine." Ben finally said after a bit.

"Now, don't leave out any details, especially not about... you-know-who."

Ben winced. The Agent meant Jack, the voice inside his head. He had accidentally let it slide that something was inhabiting his body last session.

"Fine." He said again. "I won't leave out any details. Just don't blame me if you go insane."


Where to begin? I could start anywhere, but I'll choose the moment I escaped the Orphanage.

I'm going to be honest here: I did not survive in the forest alone. Of course, I had the voice, who had identified itself as Jack, but I also had a home. Here's how it went:
For the longest time, I'd survived on eating raw pumpkins. It was disgusting, but compared to the unknown foliage and plant matter in the forest, at least it was edible. Anyhow, that's where I found out pumpkin tamed Jack, allowing me to blink without killing anyone, so I kind of owe it to my starvation that I found that partial antidote for Jack.

My solution was I tore a strip of fabric off my shirt, smashed a pumpkin, and put some of the guts into the piece, then upon tying to my head so that the goop was under my nose, and like magic, I could finally close my eyes without murdering someone. Why pumpkin, I didn't know. Not even Jack knew, because he sounded pretty shocked when I closed my eyes and he couldn't take over.

"What? No, you are my host. I control YOU. This isn't how it's supposed to work!" But he shut up quickly after that once I didn't respond.

Eventually, I became... unsatisfied with living so close to the orphanage. It didn't help that the police had started to arrive, and the Headmaster's daughter, who was ten times crueler than the original, had taken over and increased security around the property, obviously worried the mysterious killer might return.
So I started to travel northward, away from the Orphanage and hopefully toward civilization.

After a week of traveling, I started to wonder how I'd get food after my backpack ran out, which I had stuffed full of pumpkins and gourds before leaving, but right when I was on my last summer squash, I saw a faint light coming from a cluster of trees in the distance.

"Do you see that?" I asked Jack, my only source of company.

"I only see what you do. If you're talking about the creepy shack over there. Then no. I don't see it." He seemed still grumpy that I hadn't let him free in a while, but I ignored his sarcastic remark and started to sneak towards the pile of logs that was the shack, the mid-autumn leaves crunching under my feet, to my dismay. Jack attempted to take control a few times as I snuck over there, which just resulted in me swerving to the side or suddenly taking a running leap. He eventually gave up once I got close enough to the door though, still not speaking to me.

I really didn't want anyone to be in there, because I'll admit, I didn't look my best, with my ripped shirt, filthy pants, a weird type of fabric mask on my face, and to top it all off I was covered in blood that was not mine, which no amount of scrubbing from the small stream could cleanse.
Stained, just like my conscience.

Upon reaching the door, I hesitated before knocking. I don't know what I was more worried about; the fact someone lives in a house made of sticks, and I'd be generous calling it a shack, considering its size, or the fact that it would be my first human contact in months. Other than Jack. But he doesn't count because I don't know what the hex he is.

Moments before I gained the courage to knock, the door opened wide and I found myself staring down twin barrels of a shotgun, one for each eye.

"State yer business or I'll make ya some new orifices."

I gulped and turned my attention to the bearded large man behind the weapon, who reminded me of a cartoon lumberjack, complete with the red and black plaid shirt and suspenders. "Oy, keep yer eyes up here mate, or else." He said gruffly, but he also sounded surprised to see another human out there.
"I don't want trouble," I said, putting my hands in the air, "I just... was shocked to see another person in this forest."

The gun lowered a bit but was still aimed at me.
"What's under ye nose?"

"The smell of pumpkin reminds me of home..." I said a bit too quickly, "I ran away a few years back, now I'm wishing to return home but I've forgotten where it is..." I tried to conjure up some tears to go along with my barefaced lie, but none came. I did manage to look sad though; it wasn't hard, considering the last few days.
"Oh..." The man hesitated. "Well, I 'pose you can come in for a cuppa tea, no funny business though, or I'll pump you full 'o buckshot."

I nodded vigorously. Even though I didn't drink tea and never had, just having something other than dirty stream water and pumpkin seemed like heaven just about now. The man lowered his gun and stepped to the side, closing the door behind me as I entered. The 'tiny' shack, observed from the outside, seemed like just that, tiny. but inside it was larger than expected. A warm fire in the hearth was the only light source, which bathed the card table and makeshift kitchen in a golden glow. Surprisingly, there were no electronics in sight, not even an electric light or plug. There was a small closet off to the side and I swore I saw some bluish light through the slit in between the door and wall, but the man stood in front, closed the door, continued into the kitchen, and proceed to fill the kettle with water from a red jug that looked suspiciously like a gas can.

"So, whatser name?" The man said, back still to me. He had set the gun down on the counter, but I could tell that he had put it in such a position that he'd be able to pick it up and fire almost instantly.

"Ben. Ben Walker. What're you doing living alone in the woods?" I said, looking around once more.
"Well, can't live in the city nowadays. Cameras and microphones are everywhere. Can't trust nobody." Once the kettle whistled, he poured some water into two ridiculously dainty teacups and put them on the card table. "Take a seat son. How long 'ave you been in the forest? You look injured badly." He gestured to the blood on my clothes, blood that was not mine, and I instinctively felt for the mask filled with pumpkin guts as I sat opposite to him on the small round table.

"I'm fine, just a little bit... shaken up."

"Bin havin' a rough streak?"

"Yeah, I guess you could put it that way." I took a sip from the cup he handed me and almost ralphed what little food my stomach contained. It tasted like rusty metal.

"What is this stuff?" I sputtered.

"Why, it's me special! Dandelion, rose, and some dehydrated maple leaves mixed with a hint o' lime!" He leaned in close as if telling a secret, "the roses keep out the impure spirits, the dandelion disables the government microphones in yer chest."

He suddenly stood, looking shocked. "Great Scott, I 'avent introduced myself! Pepper the Prepper, at yer service!" He out a hairy hand and I shook it tentatively, but he shook with such vigor I felt as if my entire arm might be ripped out of its socket. "We ain't so different, after all! Tis been lonely in the forest all alone... Bin a while since I've seen a friendly face!" He tapped his chin, "Unless you talkin' about the Gaster Ghost out in the rose patch, but he likes to steal me socks, so he ain't very nice!" And with that, Pepper sat down and looked toward me with great interest. "What's it like out there? Has the reptilian president finally told the public the truth? Have those geniuses proved the earth is in fact, shaped like a pear?"

I said nothing, only stared back. Out of all the types of people who could have been lurking in this shack, a conspiracy theorist would not have been my first choice.

"I smell new blood. Shall we dine tonight?" Jack said with a chortle. "Nah, I'm just teasing. You can't dine on blood, silly me."

Once again, I ignored him and took a deep breath. I had a plan, silly to be sure, but it was a plan nonetheless. Then I leaned in real close to Pepper. "Yeah, they proved it all. Can I tell you a secret? Vampires exist." Pepper's eyes became saucers. "But what the experts have wrong is that it isn't garlic that wards them off, it's pumpkin."

"No way-"

"Yes, way. That is the real reason I wear this," I tugged on the mask as Jack howled, telling me that I should just let him kill Pepper. "Do you happen to have some you can spare?"

The lumberjack didn't say anything, but got up and looked around the cupboards until he pulled out a can and a jar of orange stuff that I assumed was pumpkin. He also pointed to the only window above the blue jug.
"This is all I 'ave inside, but I've some big boys growing outside in my little patch. Tell me, what other stuff do you know of?" He said as he sat back down in his chair.

"Vampires are my specialty, I don't know much else." I lied. He looked crestfallen, but after a few sips of tea he was back up with usual gusto.

"The world out there is a scary place, eh? Come in 'ere, you gotta see my stuff."

He got up, pulled me along by the arm, and threw open the closet doors. I gasped. Inside were not one not two not three not four not freaking five but six screens, each showing a different angle of the shack. On the wall were a bunch of cables connected to a handle, with a word right above saying things like '6 Shotgun' or '2 Reset Beartrap'. Instead of a handle, some just had a little bell. One, in particular, said 'Flashbang and airhorn' leaving me to wonder just what Pepper was expecting to come bouncing into his property.

"Ya tripped my air-horn when you came boundin' through the forest. Yer lucky you missed the spiked pitfall and bear traps. Must have a lot of it on yer side, cause I've got a ton of them everywhere."

"Hmph. You're welcome for that." Jack said crossly.

I turned and admired the cameras. They had shots of all four outside walls of the shack, and the last two screens, labeled 5 and 6, had views of the forest.

"I've got them in the best places ever. If anyone even gets close, I can spot 'em a mile away. It gives me enough time to load up me shotgun. Looky here." He pointed to camera 6, where a huge stag was walking around, looking for grass to graze on. "Ya see, this animal doesn't know I can kill it easily with just a tug on this 'ere."

Pepper reached and took hold of the handle labeled '6 Shotgun'. He began counting down and upon reaching one, he gave the handle a sharp pull and in the distance, a loud bang resounded. The stag fell to the ground. Pepper grinned, not noticing my horrified expression. "You ever tried venison, kiddo?"
​
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After watching Pepper haul the stag to the side of his house to a bloodied table, where he proceeded to process it, all the while Jack requesting that I ask for some of the blood, and after I declined to eat some of it in a stew he made, he set up a sleeping bag for me, gave me a fresh pair of oversized jeans and a clean white shirt, then went into his little 'kill closet'.
But I had no intention of sleeping. How could I? The scent of pumpkin may pacify Jack, allowing me to blink, but somehow I knew that sleeping would be different. More opportunities for Jack to take over. I presumed this because Jack felt it too.
"The human body can't function without sleep, Ben. Don't you want to be ready to run tomorrow?" He said, knowing full well what my plan was, being inside my head and all. But I just laid there, not daring to close my eyes but feeling incredibly tired...

There was suddenly a knock on the door.

I sat up with a jolt. Unless Pepper had fallen to sleep, there was no way someone would be able to sneak to the front door. I doubted they'd be able to even get past all the traps or even the airhorn, which Jack couldn't even get by without tripping it. So who could be at the door?

I cautiously got to my feet and slowly approached the door. The oil lamp on the table cast my shadow onto the door, and I oddly realized my hair was sticking up on either side of my head, giving me the appearance that I had horns. But I turned my attention to the door, as that seemed like a better place to focus on. I slowly reached for the handle, which, in my defense, had been a terrible idea. I should have called out to the prepper in the closet. I was unarmed. If something dangerous was on the other side of that door, in short, I was screwed. But against my will, I clutched onto the handle and twisted.

The entire door was ripped off its hinges, not inwardly, but by something lurking on the other side of the door. It was torn off with such force some of the wooden wall came with it.

"Hello, Ben."

I gasped and stumbled backward, terrified of the thing standing in the door. It had to be at least nine feet tall, its skin was black with a white sheen but definitely not smooth. Its arms were horribly misshapen, with aberrations all over its unnaturally thin bodice. Its legs were just as long as the arms, each foot ending in a black claw. It made a chuckling noise as it held out its hands, it had long fingers, each looked like an oversized kitchen knife. But its head was the worst. It was black like the rest of the body and looked sort of like a human skull, only on the left side, in the area where the eye should be, was a dark oily lump that took up a huge part of its head, peppered with five white dots of different sizes, all pointed toward me, and I subconsciously knew that they were eyeballs. To top it all off, black streaks hovered over every part of its grotesque body, growing and disappearing as if they were made of shadows. Meanwhile, a red liquid dripped down from its hands and mouth, which had sharp needle-like teeth, each one as red as the liquid that seemed to flow from the skin of the monster.

"Been a hot minute since you've let me out." It said, flexing its fingers, then it waved a hand over the shadow streaks of its arm. "Jokes on you, I've been gathering up all my energy just for this. Time to let the blood flow like a river!"

"W-what are you?" I trembled, leaning onto one of the chairs because it felt like my knees would give way. To my utter dismay, the monster took a step and slouched a bit to go through the hole that it made, so that it was very close to me.

"What, you don't recognize me? It's your old pal Jack! Or as I was called in the olden days, 'The Sleepwalker.'" It bent over and put its disgusting face right next to mine, it was so close that some of the red liquid dripped onto me, splattering my face. "Nowadays, people don't call me anything, since you never let me out to prove that I am worthy of attention!" He spat out the blood as he spoke, voice rising. He obviously didn't remember the killing spree that happened not a month ago.

"Pepper! Help!" I suddenly croaked. Jack was a maniac, and he might even kill me if given the chance...
The Sleepwalker abruptly laughed. "Oh, I won't kill you. Take a closer look at me, Ben. Go one, don't be shy."

I did out of pure fear. Some of the shadows and oils of the head shrank back, revealing a very pale and messy-haired boy with tendrils wrapped all around his face and puncturing the eyes. It was like looking in a mirror. I gasped as I realized what happened. It was simple; I had fallen asleep. This was all a dream, surely.

"You're right on one front. You're asleep, leaving me in full control of your body. Well," The Sleepwalker gestured to his own disfigured figure, "our body. And since I control your body... Well, you're having an out-of-physical dream. You see what I want you to see, giving you just a taste of what's really happening... Welcome to my world. This is what I see twenty-four seven. Calling out won't do you any good, because little Pepper might hear you in the dream, if I let him, but he won't be coming in the real world.

"Now, let's use this freedom for something good, shan't we?" Jack laid a wet hand on my shoulder as he straightened and walked by, toward the closet. I called out for him to stop, but I never heard my own voice scream out. I knew what would happen, but I didn't want to watch.

"Get over here, don't you want to know what's happening in reality?"

I suddenly felt a pulling sensation around my navel as I teleported to the closet. I immediately stumbled, falling right at no other feet but Peppers. He didn't notice me as he watched the screens, toying with a dial on a radio he held half-heartedly. The blue light from the screens lit up his face, but more importantly, it shined on the oily knife-like fingers that had slowly pushed through the crack in the door.

I wanted to scream, to try to save the guy who, weird as he was, still showed me nothing but hospitality. But the prepper gave no indication he knew of the claw that now reached toward the back of his neck.

That is, until he spun around and slammed the heavy wooden door shut on the Sleepwalker's arm, causing Jack to yelp in pain inside my head and the inky arm to withdraw.

"This is Pepper, I... I used to be an informant for the Society. The codeword is Black Emerald," He said into the radio, which had started to beep, "ye better come fast, an anomaly has made its way into my house. This is set to repeat, but I'll say it once more; Black Emerald. Code... red..." He grunted as he held the doors shut as the Sleepwalker. "Come on, I know yer watching the lines for codewords! Just send help quicker than ya normally would!" And with that, he cast the radio away and stretched out a hand to a heavily modded shotgun, not different from the one he aimed at me not a day earlier.

"Alright filthy beast. Time for ya to know why they called me the Endmaker,"

He reared back and kicked the door open, knocking the Sleepwalker back a bit. But the win was short-lived; the Sleepwalker growled and brandished its fingers in a certain rude gesture that was shockingly human. Pepper had barely gotten the shotgun to his shoulder before firing, hitting the Sleepwalker right in the torso. The effect was immediate. I fell to my knees, winded, as I put a hand to my chest, which, although I didn't see anything, felt wet. Sleepwalker mimicked me but stayed on its feet. Pepper didn't hesitate to fire again, bringing me more pain. The Sleepwalker's chest was now filled with nicks and what seemed to be holes. A black liquid spilled out, different from the blood that dripped from its teeth and claws.

Pepper broke the shotgun over his knee and loaded up two more shots as the Sleepwalker held a hand to its chest once more.

"You made me bleed."

Pepper practically jumped. "Ben?"

"Technically. When you shoot me, you shoot the child inside of me. Go ahead, I've survived the worst things. The Others put me through so pain. Ben on the other hand?" The Sleepwalker chuckled mirthlessly. "Not so much."

Without warning, the Sleepwalker dived toward Pepper and swiped the gun right out from the prepper's shocked hands.

"Time to die."

Its hands clamped around Pepper's throat, pressing down on his jugular. He struggled and squirmed, but even with the added lubricant of the blood, he couldn't pull his head out.
Then the prepper stopped moving. It seemed as if the life had just fallen right out of him. I let out an involuntary sob.

But then suddenly Pepper kicked out wildly, hitting the Sleepwalker right in the chest, and with one hand that had been sneaking behind his belt he swung up with a fairly large pocket knife, catching the Sleepwalker right in the hand. I felt a sharp pain beyond all belief in my hand. It felt as if someone was pulling really hard on my finger, and it had finally torn free. My anguished screams were almost directly in tune with the Sleepwalker's. But, the Sleepwalker dived forward instead of falling over like me, and I saw the beast take a swipe at the man's face...

The scene disappeared and was replaced by only darkness, a darkness that I realized was caused by my closed eyes. I felt the pain in my hand again and sat up.

I had been lying spread-eagled on the wooden floor, wet with my own blood. But also with a little bit of the Sleepwalker's. I got to my feet slowly, warily, looking around for Pepper or the Sleepwalker but only finding my own shadow for company. Was this the real world? Was Pepper dead? What did he mean when he said he was an 'informant for the Society'?

I was distracted by my hand once more. Blood was spurting from the stub that used to be my pointer finger, so I tore some fabric off of my new shirt to stanch the bleeding. This meant that the fight was real, right? Not some trick or dream. Fully real. Then where was Pepper...?

I turned to the kitchen and rifled through the drawers and cabinets until I found some duct tape, which I used to stick the fabric over the wound. Next, I took a red plaid coat from the rack beside the door, which I chose over the others because it had a huge fuzzy hood, which would help the next part of my plan.

After I put the coat on, I left the shack and went around back toward the Pepper's pumpkin patch, where I snagged an ax from right around the fence's door and cut the vines of a medium-sized pumpkin. I took it inside, used Pepper's dropped and bloodied pocket knife (which was right beside what seemed to be a bloody sausage, I kicked that away without a second thought.) to carve out the bottom of the pumpkin, then once emptied I made two crude triangular eyeholes. After a few moments of hesitation, I added what was supposed to be a wide smile, but it ended up just looking really creepy. It didn't help that the blood from the knife had spread what seemed by a thousandfold so that the orange clashed with the red quite malignantly.
With a breath, I placed the pumpkin on my head, the ruffles of the coat keeping it upright, and the eyeholes aligned with my eyes almost perfectly.

I had just picked up my ax and was about to leave, my old bloody bag over my shoulder when I heard an air horn blare. There was a security breach, and I knew subliminally that it wasn't a stag that had tripped it this time.

The Society, whoever they were, had arrived.

I hastily recovered Pepper's shotgun on the floor, then, upon realizing I had no ammunition, I went off on another search through the shack, eventually winding up in the closet, where I found, to my immense luck, a bandolier with only three shots missing. I slung that and the gun over my shoulder and turned to leave when I felt like smacking my head. The cameras were my best shot at survival, and forgetting about them could have been a fatal mistake.

I watched all six screens for any movement and finally caught some in cam 6. In the green of the night vision filter, a humanoid figure dressed in black armor walked through the bushes, trying to be stealthy but failing miserably.

I weighed my options. These people probably wanted to kill me, so maybe we should hurt them.
Before I could think twice I pulled on the lever's handle that was titled '6 Shotgun', sending a bang through the air as the man most anticlimactically fell to the forest floor. Another black-figure raced to his fallen comrade, but once more got a shotgun shot to the chest. A third came but was smarter than the others because he came at it from the side and took a hefty kick at something on the ground. Seconds later he picked up a ragged-looking shotgun, then he looked directly at the camera. The last thing camera 6 ever saw was a black boot, aimed right at it. But now was not the time to mourn the loss of camera 6, as movement was suddenly detected from all angles. The black-suited people stormed the shack relentlessly. I found myself watching as they fell down the pits Pepper had set up, setting off bear traps hidden in the underbrush, and setting off swinging logs that disengaged from the trees above. I realized a few had gotten to the door, but I didn't wait to see what they were doing to it before I dashed from the closet, leaned my ax against a fallen chair, and readied the modded shotgun, using the overturned table to steady the barrel that I had aimed at the door.

"You could let me out... I'd make short work of the-"

"Shut your proverbial face! You've got some nerve speaking to me after what happened to Pepper. Look at my hands! I can't even use my good arm to shoot this thing because why? Why is that Jack? Oh, right, it's because I don't have my flipping trigger finger!!"

"All the more reason to take the infernal pumpkin off your head and let me free."

There was a knock on the door. This time, when it opened, I was ready.

"Hello?" That was all the armored man was able to get out before taking a shot to the chest and getting blown backward outside. That was when I realized just how tough the Sleepwalker was if it could take a shot like that and barely sway. And the shot didn't even penetrate its skin, because I didn't have a hole in my own chest. Seems like the skin on the finger was thinner than it was everywhere else, though.

"Jeez, man!" Another black-suited man shouted, hiding behind the door frame out of aim. "Divergence spotted. Seems to have a bloody pumpkin as a head... It's already shot Agent Point, I don't know if the bullets penetrated his armor..." We focused the shotgun to the edge of the door, where the man was hiding, and took another shot, which passed right through the wood as if it were paper and shut the man up.

I reloaded as fast as I could, but the other 'Agents' must have realized I was out of shots because five of them entered and made a semicircle around me, each, oddly enough, had their pointer finger pointed at me, and their thumb in the air, like a finger gun. I would have laughed at the obscurity of this, but once the tips of their fingers began to glow a bluish-green the chuckle became mirthless.

"Put up your hands, now." A female voice commanded in a humorless voice. I did as I was told, leaving the gun on my lap, one shot in the barrel. "Great, so it understands English. Now get up, hands still in the air, and turn around so that the only part of you we can see is your back. Do it now!"

Again, I followed her orders, gun falling to the floor as I stood. But before I could turn around, another Agent with a bloodied right arm came sprinting through the door and in one motion, gave me a left-handed punch that knocked me to the floor.

"You killed Point! You... you murderous little..."

"I-I didn't know!" I shouted suddenly, hands still in the air even though I was laying on my side. "You guys just suddenly charged at me... I thought you'd kill us!"

An Agent came out from the semicircle and held out her hand. "Hold on..." She began, "I said hold on! Stand down Agent Haunt!"

The Agent who punched me took a small step back, and even though I couldn't see his face because of the black helmet, two glowing orange eyes stared right at me, and I had the fleeting image of staring into the pits of Hell itself.

The female Agent walked toward me, gun fingers pointed down but still at the ready, and studied me for a few moments before speaking. "You look... Human. Do you understand what I'm saying to you?"

I nodded with such vigor the pumpkin almost fell off. That's when I realized that Agent Haunt's punch had taken away a good portion of the fruit on my head, leaving the left side of my face very much exposed. I can't imagine what Jack would do if he were to emerge, right here, right now.

"Good. Now I'm going to ask you a few things. It looks like a scuffle happened around here, and it looks like something with black blood was here." She pointed to the wood floor. "Was there anything... out of the ordinary? A monster, perhaps?"

As she spoke, I felt a pull as I blinked. The smell of the pumpkin was waning.

"I... I don't..." I gulped. The exposed part of my flesh was burning now.

"You don't know?" The woman repeated.

"Come on Revolve, this thing shot Point and tried to get me too!" Haunt began, showing his right arm which he cradled, but the woman shut him up with a single finger to where her mouth would be.

We began to stutter, as if we were a program with a glitch, and the Agents went silent. We lifted our hand, and we saw it shake (from fear or exertion, I couldn't tell) as shadows began to puncture the flesh, black blood spilling out from the fresh wounds.

"Haunt? That's enough..." Revolve looked at me, eyes wide through the mask. " Get behind me. Indexers at the ready." Agent Revolve stood back as the semicircle of Agents raised their 'Indexers', which I guessed were the name of their finger guns.

But that didn't stop us. I felt my eyelids get heavy, my head lolling forward, followed by my torso. We didn't even need the pumpkin anymore, for all the good that it was doing.

"What the heck is happening to its face!" An Agent shouted. But I could barely hear him.

"Rest your weary head, Ben. I'll make it all better."

Through squinted eyes, I surreally saw myself slowly get to a standing position and we reached out for the ax.
"Fire at will, Dangit!"

Blue bolts erupted from the index fingers of the Agents, each one expertly hitting their mark. It hurt, but my flesh was turning black and oily; soon it would twist and disfigure as the Sleepwalker came out. All pain would soon be forgotten.

"You're up past your bedtime. Time to go to sleep." I said, my voice sounding deep and distorted.

"Hold your ground!" Revolve shouted to a few Agents that took a step or two back.

We raised the ax, admiring its cleanliness for a few seconds. Shame it was going to get just so dirty.

Swing once. Agent Haunt was left looking gaunt.
Swing twice, the way this ax goes through flesh is just so nice.
Third swing, Agent Revolve was telling us to stop, how absurd.
Fourth, the blood of two came over us like a flood.
And finally fifth, we got impatient, so there goes the last Agent.

I wanted to die. If I didn't do it myself the guilt would. But it was either me... or them. Survival of the strongest. We dropped the ax and sank to our knees. Eventually, more Agents came. They cuffed me and shot me so many times I felt like a living pincushion. But I didn't dare attack anymore. Part of me wished that they'd just finish it, to save me from my own life. But they did not. No one would save me if I couldn't even save myself.
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The Therapist watched Ben slouch once finished his story. Ben still blamed himself for what happened. He wasn't proud of it, but he's spent way too long pondering why he didn't grab the gun and finish off the Sleepwalker, once and for all.

"I have a theory." The Therapist said after a while. "The reason why the Sleepwalker didn't come out when you slaughtered the Agents?" Ben looked up, intrigued. "It was because you wanted him to come out. You, like it or not, were in control of the Sleepwalker in that moment of time."

In response, Ben leaned back and stared blankly at the Agent.

"You embraced the nature of the Sleepwalker instead of it taking over, like when you fell asleep. Am I making any sense?"

Ben did not answer, though he knew it to be true.

"Well." The Therapist closed down the report he had been writing on his black robotic arm's screen and stood. "My work here seems to be done..." He started for the door, but Ben spoke before he could leave.

"You don't know what it's like," Ben said, voice gravelly and deep as it reverberated around the pumpkin on his head. "I know this space prison is filled with monsters, but we all know," Ben tapped on his pumpkin head, "that the real monsters exist inside here. They come out in our actions. Lots of people have a beast just like the Sleepwalker inside them. And by lots of people, I mean everyone."

Ben suddenly lurched forward, but his metal wire restraints held him back from touching the Therapist. "You don't know what it's like to kill. To take a life. Enjoy your innocence while you can."

The Therapist looked back at him, a bit freaked out. "Well then, I will. Thank you for that philosophical speech... uh... I will make sure to tell the Warden... um... good day Ben."

"First it'll be the hallucinations," Ben called after the Therapist, who could still hear through the closed door as he hurried down the hallway, trying to get away from the divergence as quickly as possible. It was an understatement to say he was terrified of Ben. "Then those nightmares," Ben shouted, "they'll rob you of your sanity."

The two guards at the end of the hall looked at the Therapist, then, upon deciding that he was not a shapeshifting divergence, let him by the opened door. "Uh... wait." One said, holding his robot arm out to stop the Therapist. Then he pointed to the door to the room Ben sat in, more specifically to the window where Ben had somehow stood in front of, despite the fact he should have been cuffed in...

The Sleepwalker smiled, teeth visible through the carved-out grin of the pumpkin. "There'll be nothing left of your mind by our next session. They'll haunt you. And don't bother looking under your bed for the monsters. All you have to do to find one is to look into the mirror."