Unstoppable: Revitalized

-09-

"Wake up, Adam. Look at me."

My head was yanked up forcefully, a straw head on a scarecrow's body. My entire body felt as if it was on fire, yet completely empty. I felt the dull echo of pain, but nothing I could put my finger on.

I recognised the voice. The Boss, in all his glory, was here again, and he didn't sound happy.

I must've shit in his food and smeared it on him, he's furious.

For a second, I couldn't make out much, but the dim candlelight, I could make out the slight outline of a door, slim streams peeking out of its hinges and edges. The slice of life gave me hope. I was still here, still alive, and I could get out of here.

"You really can't help yourself, can you? Callum even outlined how things would work, and yet you disobeyed me? Do I look like someone to disobey?" His outline was barely visible as I tried to gather information, giving him no answer. The room was still practically pitch black. I could feel ropes on my arms and legs, once again tied down.

"Listen to me." A dead cold hand wrapped itself around my throat, fingers clenching as he cut off my air supply. I struggled against myself, the chair complaining as I writhed and coughed and choked, but nothing would shake him. Stars, purple and white, danced in my eyes as I felt them bulge, my windpipe scraping against my throat. Just as I made peace, he let go, my coughing and spluttering filling the dead void. He let pass as I took my time, thankful for air once again.

"I have your attention?" He asked, deadpan and still. I hastily nodded, still feeling the pressure in my chest as it slowly relieved itself. Thanking whatever God was up there, I kept my eyes on him, trying to find any sort of movement in him, but nothing.

"So, you think, because you can put yourself back together again, you can challenge us? Is that it?" He spoke calmly, with a hint of pure malice behind it: He knew without a doubt he was in charge, and knew he had me where he wanted me, yet again.

"N-No!" I shouted, still reeling and still afraid. I couldn't help it. The air in here didn't seem to help as I felt the numbing cold again.

He made it to the Cooler with me in it. Great. Caretaker, my ass.

"Let me explain something to you. Sure, your body can do something revolutionary, and we've never seen anything like it before, but just because you can? Doesn't mean you should. We've got people who would pay a pretty penny to learn how to do it. I'll let you in on a little secret..." The Boss leaned in real close, so close I could feel his cold breath on my cheek as he whispered to me.

"We knew one student was special. We just didn't know when it would activate. Keep your head down, or else."

Leaning back up and sighing, he clicked his fingers. I felt the knots loosen as something smacked into the side of my head with so much force it sent me to the floor, my mind blacking out before I even had a chance to reply.

I didn't even realise I was in hell, until I woke up. Adrenaline coursing through me, I threw myself up, sheets crashing to the floor as I looked everywhere before realising I was...

Still in bed.

Asleep.

I'd been asleep the whole time.

Looking down, I had, once again, no marks. No slices, cuts, wounds, pain, nothing. I stood still, stunned, taking in my room, before bursting out laughing at myself.

So it was all a dream! Jesus, my mind is creative. Holy... Wow. I can't believe that. I need to see a doctor or a therapist or something. Christ.

Shaking my head, I headed downstairs, the house as quiet as ever. I'd grabbed my phone as I'd left, seeing the date as a Sunday, the final day of dread before hell-week begins again. Walking into the kitchen, I sat down, rubbing my temple and flicking through my phone before deciding to drink something. Tea being the best option at hand, I stood up, and went to flick the kettle before realising something: It was still hot. Seething hot, as if it had just been boiled. Taking a look in the sink, an empty cup and spoon sat there, two things I most definitely didn't use, one in particular:

That's my Dad's old cup. Someone else is here.

I crept towards the silverware drawer, ears and eyes fully alert and ready as I picked out the first knife, before scouring the house. The front room was clear, not a cushion so much as disturbed. Bathrooms were clear, so was my bedroom, which left one I barely went into: My parent's room. My hand gently creaked open the door, making as little noise as possible. The curtains were open, which threw me off. This place deserved no light, a memory to be buried. It was a place to keep dark, to reflect in, to talk to my parents in. The second problem were the bedsheets moving. I never touched them, I refused to. Too many memories in one room. I slammed open the door, holding the knife in front of me like some corny James Bond clone, hands trembling.

"Stop, and turn around, slowly. I- I've got a knife." I stuttered a few times, but instead of fear, I was met with short laughter as a familiar face met mine, a smile clearly struggling to be suppressed. I was beyond surprised, and he took advantage of that, grabbing my arm, pulling me towards him before locking my head below his chest, an arm around my neck and the knife pulled from my grip and dropped to the floor. He shoved me back, looking me up and down, the amusement now replaced with a level of calm I wasn't used to from him. He barged past me, heading downstairs. I stood, still bewildered, before following after him, finding him outside, a lit cigarette in his mouth as he waited for me, relaxed and calm. The same blonde hair, the same green eyes...

The same Callum.

"It's good to finally see you awake, Adam."

I have so many questions...