These Dangers Untold

Chapter 3- Belief

Author's Note- Hang in there, people! The Underground is coming soon, just play along with the plot. :) Love you all and enjoy!

Dr. Wilks leaned forward, splaying his fingers on the tabletop. "So, Miss Williams, you've been having hallucinations?"
Sarah nodded, slowly. "Yes. Vivid ones. They have the strangest creatures in them. Animalistic, but they speak. They talk about adventures I had, in some Labyrinth. I think they are based off this book." Sarah handed Dr. Wilks the red book. "It is a fairytale about a young girl who travels through a maze, and defeats a Goblin King. I've been having this recurring dream ever since I was about 15, where I am dancing, and there's an owl, and so many hands..." Sarah shuddered. "But I think the dreams come from the book, after I stopped reading it. The last time I can remember seeing it before last night was when I was a teen, and I was putting it away. That was the night I stopped loving fantasy, and the first night I had the dream."
Dr. Wilks frowned. "Sounds like you, young lady, have been suffering for a long while. Do you think the dreams spouted from a dependence on this book, one that, in turn, came form your mother's acting and walking out on you and your father at such a tender age?"
Sarah shrugged. "Maybe. That's what I thought, anyway. But I don't know why it changed, become more intense, of late. It's like I am waking up, like I was asleep, and now my life isn't surreal anymore. But its not my waking hours that are more real, but my dreams. The dream used to be the same, night after night. Now, it changes, going in-depth on certain scenes, focusing on time spans of only moments. They replay, over and over, lasting for hours. Now that I lost my job, I have nothing to do but sit around all day, and search for open positions. That leaves me a lot of free time to have my dreams overwhelm me, even when I am completely awake. I can't escape them anymore. At the same time, I like these hallucinations, and am happy when I don't have to be without them." Sarah babbled on, noticing how Dr. Wilks kept nodding, his pen scratching across the paper, flying with a thousand observations. Eventually, Sarah stopped talking. She closed her eyes and took a long, deep breath. His eyes rose up, questioning. "Are you afraid of these dreams because you enjoy them, or do you enjoy them because you are afraid?"
There, Sarah thought. Right there is the psychiatric garbage I won't answer to. Does he think I'd come here if I knew the answer to those types of questions? I just wanted to talk, see if I had a tumor that is messing with my brain or something. The best version of therapy for herself, Sarah knew, was talking to someone about it, and when they didn't give her clichéd advice. That only made her problems seem worse. So why did I go to a professional therapist, with about a dozen degrees in psychology, human behavior, and relationships? Why didn't I just talk to Mom or Irene or even Dad about it? Sarah could answer her own questions, though she didn't want to. The real reason she had come here was because last night had opened up that door again, the door to the storylands she had wrapped herself in like a shield, pushing everyone in Sarah's life away. She didn't want to risk her relationships with her family, didn't want to repel them as she had before, as a selfish child. Sarah wanted to keep her problems to herself. She could the hypocrisy behind this- she had, up until yesterday, worked at a hotline where she only talked to other people about their problems, and she supported them in doing so. However, Sarah felt there was a distinct difference between those people and herself. For she was dramatic by nature, thanks to her mother, and had a tendency to blow things out of proportion when around other people. When she was with a stranger, there would be no urge to do that, because she wouldn't raise a reaction from them. After all, that was what actors lived for- the reaction. With Dr. Wilks, it was easier to restrain the child inside her, screaming, Lie. Exaggerate. Get attention.
"Ahem."
Sarah started. With no small amount of embarrassment, she realized she had been staring at Dr. Wilks' bald patch while she had been lost in thought. "Oh, I'm so sorry. I was thinking. Um, what were you saying?"
"I was advising that you go to your doctor and request a fMRI scan, and if there is no unusual brain activity, ask to be prescribed clozapine or Risperdal. It seems as though these hallucinations are quite serious, and if you've been having them since a young age..."
"No. No, I'm sorry. I must have explained incorrectly. I had the first hallucinations last night. Until then, it had only been the one dream."
"And yet, this dream has been repeating itself exactly for ten years, and as you phrased it, 'It clings to my mind like Saran wrap in summer.' That is not just a dream, Miss Williams. I fear you may have a mild disorder of some sort. Perhaps, it may be even more than mild. You definitely need anti-psychotics, now."
Sarah jumped up from her chair, angry. "I came here to talk, vent, and for you to nod and take notes. I did not come to be told that I am crazy. I did not come here to be prescribed drugs." Although Sarah knew that that had been her original intention, she no longer wanted those things. For now that a doctor- a professional, ha, Sarah thought- had actually called her insane, she was insulted. The office walls seemed to close in, trapping her. They wanted to stifle her in other people's expectations. "I'm leaving. Goodbye, Dr. Wilks." Sarah tried to make the title as much an insult as was possible while her voice was shaking. Snatching up the red book, she made it to the doorway before he called after her, "What did you expect, Miss Williams?" Unable to answer, she stormed from the room, through the hallways, out the waiting room, and into the cold night.
The previous evening's rain had not stopped, though it had lessened for the most part. A thick fog, interspersed with large bulbs of water coming down from the gray heavens, mirrored Sarah's emotional state. For the most part, her feelings were a jumble, blurred together beyond anyone's ability to separate. Every few seconds or so, however, she felt an intense burst of a single emotion- sadness, regret, anger, and confusion being most common.
Although she had driven to Dr. Wilks' office, Sarah wanted to walk home tonight. I will come back tomorrow, early, to get my car, she thought, glancing back at the vehicle, looking just like a dozen other ones in the parking lot. No one will recognize it at once for being mine. Sarah strode down the sidewalk, her shadow almost inperceptable in the night. The streetlights illuminated the rain on the road, causing the whole scene to have a vaguely eerie feeling. Sarah's footsteps echoed a little to loudly for the narrow lane, with only one-story tall buildings. She shook her head, and quickened her pace, telling herself that she was subconsciously trying to create drama out of nothing. Old habits die hard, that's all. Sarah decided to experiment, deliberately slowing her stride, then hurrying it suddenly. At first, the other steps, or echoes, mimicked her changes easily. Then, after a while, Sarah actually leaped forward a few feet, just to see if the thump resounded more than once. It didn't. Footsteps hurried to catch up to her, but Sarah knew she was being followed now. Her whole body was aching to turn around, and see who it was, but she knew that speed was vital. Soon she was-
Running, running so fast she became breathless. A long, seemingly endless hall curved over the face of the Earth. There were branches in her way, so she vaulted over them-
She was kneeling on the concrete, hands and knees bleeding. Sarah blinked, and felt tears rolling furiously down her face. But why?
Both scenes seemed to be the same-so similar, in fact, that Sarah was having trouble keeping the experiences from melding into one. She was dizzy, so-
Dizzy. Watching him dance impossibly along the walls, ceilings, and precipices. She saw Toby, about to fall to his doom. The stairs twisted, inverted, and changed destinations as she tried to reach her brother. Suddenly, his hands were on her shoulders as he spun her around. He smiled at her. Gloating. She was weak, he was strong. This was in his eyes, the set of his lips. She felt it, in the stiffness of her shoulders, and her own eyes were-
Fearful. This was the only emotion she could clearly identify. The steps became louder, closer, and Sarah hauled herself off the ground. She had to keep running, escape from the terrible-
Slashing blades, a wall of death coming towards her. Hoggle's hand slipped from hers. They were pounding on a few metal plates in the wall. There had to be a way out. She refused to give into hopelessness. The wall gave under her frantic shoving, and she fell-
On the ground, her hands and knees roughly scraped against the street, bleeding even more heavily now. Her shoulder hurt, as she had hit it when she had fallen off the sidewalk. Sarah's back pressed into the gutter, still flooded with the rain and leaves, knocked from the trees that framed the street. They emitted a sweet, sickly odor, mixed with the stench of the trash bins nearby. But Sarah knew that was nothing when compared to-
The foul smell rising from the bog made her want to gag. She tried to pull her nose and breathe shallow little gasps from her mouth, but the fetid air seemed to push its way through her pores, up her mouth, in her ears. Any way it could reach her insides and make her stomach revolt. She crossed a dirt path to a bridge, desperate to escape the reeking muck. Out of nowhere, a figure jumped-
In front of her, she saw the person who had been following her. Sarah could just barely make out the shape of them through her tangled hair. She saw long, blonde locks that went straight to the person's waist. They shimmered like a snake's scales, but had the luster of polished wood. As if magic was a very part of them, Sarah thought hazily. Sleek, black leather gloves hit the figure's elbows, starkly contrasting against the white, long-sleeved tunic. Tall boots met the gray leggings at knee level. Just like him, but its not him. Sarah blinked, surprised at her own thoughts. Who is 'him'? Sarah couldn't make her eyes focus on the person's face. A woman's voice rang out, in such a superior tone that annoyance temporarily pushed through Sarah's fright. "A girl. They risked themselves to speak with a human girl. Bah. I will never understand dwarves, or any of those ruffians, really. You even brought in my darling baby brother." Wind rushed past Sarah's face, and a boot planted itself firmly in her side. She gasped for air, hacking and curling into a ball. Her cheek was pressed against the asphalt as her assailant repositioned her shoe on top of Sarah's head. "Hmm," the voice droned, clearly bored. "Yes, I think you will be no trouble at all. But it will be so entertaining to watch dear Jareth trip over himself with you around. So be counting your lucky stars, little one, that you are as weak as a babe, an thus no match for me. This is the only reason your heart still beats. You are simply not worth my time." The pressure lifted from Sarah's head, and she heard the clacking of heels against the ground. They soon faded into silence.
Sarah lay on the ground for a while, trying to regain her strength and make sense of what had happened. She could not pass this off as a hallucination this time- she could feel the blood seeping from her hands, pushing through the grit from the road. Her shoulder ached, and she could feel dirt on her brow from her assailant's shoe. Tears pushed through her eyelids, although they were clenched shut so tightly they hurt. Bracing herself, Sarah pushed up from the ground, and rose to her feet. Water dripped from her shirt, hair, almost her whole left side. Gritting her teeth, Sarah began to walk in the direction of Dr. Wilks' office. She needed her car, because she was going back home. Not her small apartment, but her childhood house. She needed to talk to that mirror again.
By now, Sarah was desperate enough to try anything to make these hallucinations, or flashes, or whatever they were, stop. The only place her exhausted mind, still a little shocked from what had just happened, could think of to go for answers was the mirror. She would call for help, beg the creatures to stop tormenting her. Maybe if she let her guard down, just a tiny bit, her mind would ease up on her. It was a long shot, but it was all she had. Reaching her car, Sarah unlocked it and got in. The engine came on silently, her headlights brightening the face of the psychiatric office. Glancing down to check her gas level, Sarah was shocked at the extent of the damage her spill had caused. Blood speckled her clothing, and stained her palms a sticky red. Wet, clumped-together leaves clung to her shirt, and rips ran along the sleeve, filled with a sandy black powder that always occurs on roads, and insists on being impossible to remove without a long and thorough scrubbing. Sighing, Sarah gripped the steering wheel, wincing as her hands complained about the contact. She pulled out of the parking lot and onto the highway, opposite of the direction she had gone while walking. It would be faster, when driving at least, to take the highway. She joined the throng of cars, red and yellow lights piercing the foggy darkness. Rain drummed the roof of her car, steadily getting louder as the sky opened up to release a storm that reminded her of baby Toby. Long, loud, and hard. While she drove, Sarah pondered how to confront the mirror, or Hoggle, or her mind about the experiences she had seen, felt, really, out there on the street, and in her old bedroom. I will be direct, she decided, just cut to the chase. It would be easier that way, and she would have less time to reconsider how truly crazy she must be. Don't think about it, she commanded herself. Just go and talk to the magic mirror. She shook her head. It sounds like a fairytale. Fifteen-year-old me would have loved this. Sarah frowned, a troubling thought occurring to her. Maybe I did. Did I cause my own insanity with that book? Am I really insane? These questions bothered her. She resolved not to think about it until she could confront them- Hoggle, Sir Didymus, and the one she hadn't seen, but 'remembered'- Ludo. Stop! Don't think about it. And so she didn't, until she reached her old home.
Eventually, a while after the rain had become bucketful upon bucketful of water dumping from the clouds, Sarah reached the familiar house. After darting out of her car, she stood under the porch light, waiting for the door to open. It did, only a few seconds after she had rung the bell. "Sarah!" Toby grabbed her hand and pulled her inside. Promptly, he began to hug her with all the strength he had in his skinny arms. Using her free hand- one was pinned under his embrace- she ruffled his hair. "Hey, Tobe. How have you been?"
"You know have I've been, Sarah. You were here yesterday. But why are you back so soon? Not that anyone is unhappy you're here," he added quickly, "It's just...you look upset. Are you okay?"
"Whoa, I wasn't prepared for an interrogation, baby brother. I just wanted to crash here tonight." Raising her voice, she called in the direction of the kitchen, "Is that alright with you, Dad? Irene?"
The talking in the kitchen ceased abruptly. "Sarah?" Her father's head poked out the door, and when he saw her, his face broke into a huge smile. It looked like an older version of Toby's. Irene appeared next to him, smiling. "Of course you can stay the night, Sarah." She glanced at the clock, which read 10:30 pm. "It is late, though. Would you like some leftovers from dinner?"
Sarah shook her head. "No thanks, I already ate."
"Well, I'm afraid we won't be much company. We were just about to go to bed."
"That's fine, I'm tired anyway." Wiggling free of Toby's hug- he still hadn't let go- Sarah walked over and hugged Irene and her father. "Thank you," she whispered. Irene smiled at her again. "You can come over anytime, Sarah." Then everyone went to bed.

As soon as Sarah was in her room, she pushed her wicker chair in front of the door, wedging it under the handle. She went to the mirror and tapped a finger on it. "How does this work? Do I just say 'I need you'?"
No response came from the mirror. Experimentally, Sarah tried to encourage the mirror by saying things such as, "I still have questions, Hoggle," and, "What if I said I believed in all this, huh? What then?" Nothing happened. After a few more tries, Sarah grew frustrated. Pounding a fist into the mirror, she exclaimed, "Oh! This is pointless!" Fury built in her. Grabbing the nearest object-it was an old photo of her and her father, hugging after a school play- and threw it with all her strength at the mirror. The metal frame slammed into the reflective surface, spider-web cracks spreading out from the center of the mirror. A hundred copies of Sarah's face glared back at herself. A single tear rolled down her face, and her dam buckled and broke at the sight. She fell to her knees on the floor and began to cry. "Please, I just want the delusions to stop," she choked out, the crying thickening her voice. In some small part of her head, Sarah noticed how truly, frantically dramatic she was being. Normally, I would be bothered by that. But now I don't care.
The mirror still yielded no reply, no voices, no Hoggle, nothing. There were not even any memories to distract her. For now Sarah completely understood they were memories, so sharp and painful they took her breath away. However, they were slowly, oh-so slowly returning, so some parts of her adventure in the Labyrinth were fuzzy, unclear. Still, everything she had remembered, everything Hoggle had told her, was true. Suddenly, a realization hit her with the ragged force of lightning.
"She's threatened the whole Labyrinth, and she has the power to take him down. If we didn't like Jareth as a king before, well, we definitely won't like her rule. This woman is insane. She'd take down even Jareth to get what she wants. And if she fails, it will all disappear. She put a curse on the Labyrinth, Sarah- and you are the only person who has ever stopped one of them before. You have to believe what we are saying, because it's all true."
Hoggle had told her about the peril they were all in, and she had discounted it. Her friends may be gone already. The world which she had clung to for years, the world that had saved her from despair so many times in her childhood, might be no more than a shadow, only existing in her memories. Her only recently returned memories. Sarah rose to her feet, leaning heavily on the tabletop. Staring into the broken mirror, she saw the glass fragments shimmer and fall in silvery dust. "What have I done?" she whispered, horrified at herself. She had destroyed her only, tenuous connection she had left to the Labyrinth. Except for the book. The small red book, which she had brought up to her room, lay on the bed, pages rustling in the wind from the open window. Sarah inhaled deeply, the night air gliding through her nostrils. It helped clear her head a little. She walked over to the bed, and picked up the novel. "Once upon a time, there was a beautiful young girl, a princess, in fact. She had a horrible baby brother who was spoiled beyond belief..."Sarah read on, murmuring the words aloud, and felt a thrill on her tongue with each one. She couldn't stop, standing there for an immeasurable amount of time, speaking each phrase, each syllable carefully, not wanting to stumble a single word. This story was too important for anything to disfigure it. Sarah came to the end to a glorious speech with relish. "You have no power over me," she read, the sentence ringing with importance. Sarah closed her eyes and remembered- but this time, on purpose.
Jareth's fingers were close to Sarah's face. She stood where she was, and swallowed. "Kingdom as great..," she muttered, "...kingdom as great..." She saw the crystal spinning in his fingers, and felt on her lips the warmth of his outstretched hand. She gasped, and, from some inspired recess of her mind, the words came out, blurted out. "You have no power over me."
Sarah's eyes opened. "Oh no. Oh, oh, no, Jareth. Ludo, Didymus, Hoggle, everyone, I am so sorry. I wish I..." Sarah longed to go and help her friends, and the Goblin King. Sarah wracked her brain, trying to remember anything that could get her back to the Labyrinth. She gasped as inspiration flooded her. "I wish...That's it!" Her horror faded a little as she flipped back through the book. After a minute, she found the page she was looking for. "The girl knew the rules- she must say her right words to be free of the bonds imposed upon her by her brother. The goblins had told her as much. But she was gripped by fear and guilt whenever she thought, longingly, of being released of her duties..." Sarah stopped, staring at the passage. Say her right words. I wish the goblins would come and take you away, right now. Sarah knew her right words, to wish away Toby, anyway. All she had to do was tweak them, ever so slightly. Without another moment's thought, Sarah made her decision. She squared her shoulders, took a deep breath, and said, "I wish the goblins would come and take me away, right now."