Someone's In My Head (WATTYS AWARD WINNER 2015)

Chapter Twenty-Seven

My mind was still lagging a few milliseconds behind.

No, contrary to common belief, watching your friend die doesn't go all slow-motion and dramatic and stuff. You don't get to shout "NO!!!" with three exclamation marks as you watch the bullet sail through the air and lodge into your friend's head. Neither do you get the chance to make a daring rescue by pushing your friend away just before the bullet reaches, telling everyone later that you 'felt the bullet zip past your ear'.

All of that are just plain Hollywood-slash-The-Matrix bullshit. You know what actually happens?

You freeze up.

Well, you don't freeze for long. Probably just for sixteen-thousandths of a second (thanks, Phil), give and take a few thousandths. Then you unfreeze and the next thing you know? BAM. Your friend's dead.

That's what happened to me anyway.

The multiple bombshells were too much for my meagre brain to handle, so all I could do was stare at Layla's limp, supine form. I didn't see any blood, but the hole in the centre of her head was proof enough. The words 'she's dead' reverberated throughout my head repeatedly.

Then the reality of the situation hit me in the face. It was like getting slammed by a roaring freight train going sixty miles an hour. I staggered backwards, my hands clutching wildly at the Oculus panel for support. Missing it entirely, I slid to the ground.

Layla's dead. She's dead dead.

There was a tiny voice in me that was suddenly preaching about the transience of human life. I told it to shut the hell up. Right now, there were more important matters to deal with.

I scrambled to my feet. Through my bleary vision, I caught sight of Royce/The Duke, who still had his gun trained on me. My mind went into 'Survival' mode. Royce might've killed Layla, but I wasn't going down without a fight. Breathing heavily, I turned to Phil for advice.

I didn't get the chance.

Once I was back on my feet, two―no, three suit-wearing, dowdy-looking men descended on me. I struggled, of course, and by 'struggled' I mean 'kicked and punched the front teeth out of one of those baboons holding me', but even with Phil's superior jujitsu skills downloaded into my system, I was no match for three full-grown hulking guys. Especially when I'd just witnessed my friend die in front of my very eyes.

They wrung both my arms behind me and flattened my head against the ground, with my right cheek kissing the cool ground painfully. There were footsteps, and I heard Royce say "Cuff him."

Click. Cold metal slid onto my wrists, binding them together.

I felt myself being tugged violently to my feet. "Walk," Royce growled. Something hard prodded against my back, forcing me to stumble forwards.

As I was marched forcibly on, I let my gaze travelled across the room one last time before settling involuntarily on Layla's body. It felt weird staring at her limp form, as she was always this tough and in control when she was alive. Now that she was dead...holy shucks, I still can't believe that she's dead.

Just when I thought I was about to break down and cry, one of the baboons gave me a shove and I staggered out of the room. Vaguely, I heard Royce yapping again. "And clean this mess up."

As I was escorted down the corridor, my initial shock subsided, and I started to hear snippets of the voices raging inside my head. Apparently, due to the sudden moment of shock and terror, I had unwittingly blocked both Phil and Lenny out of my head. Great. I'm like a freaking ostrich.