The Darkness Taking Over: Book 2

Chapter 32

Dark's POV

I'm sitting on the couch next to Anti, we're both just chillin' and watching tv. Earlier we were joking about how Jack was probably crying his eyes out like a little two year old. We're watching Dora the Explorer. Well, let's just say that if it wasn't for Anti insisting that we watch it to see how retarded it is, then I wouldn't be watching this garbage. Dora's grandmother sounds like a man and her parents are so fucking retarded by letting their like, I don't know, seven or eight year old daughter go out exploring with this dumbass talking monkey who wears boots and is named Boots. It's so fucking retarded and I don't even know why we're still watching it. Her friends are retarded talking animals and she obviously has no life. She can go and screw herself for all I fucking care. In fact, Im changing the channel, so I snatch the remote from Anti.
        "I'm never leaving you in charge of the remote ever again," I reply while changing the channel.
      "Aww come on, Dark," Anti says while playfully elbowing me. "Ya know you were starting to fall in love with Dora's pretty face."
      "Oh come!" I reply. "I don't want some seven year old slut! I mean, just you look at her! She's showing her belly already! She a born-to-be stripper." Anti starts laughing and I chuckle. Jack later comes down, the shadows under his eyes seeming to be more defined. 'When's the last time that guy slept?' I ask Anti in my head, only giving him a confused look on the outside.
      He shrugs. 'I dunno. Last I checked he slept two days ago. I don't think he got any sleep from then on.' We both just shrug it off, not really caring how much sleep the guy got.
      After a while, I get bored and decide to see how Mark's doing and going to see when he can get out of fucking bed. He's recovering fine, but he still isn't 100%. Mark's coordination is getting better and Jack has been throwing things for him to catch to try to speed up the process. He's gotten better, but I think Jack is also having fun throwing things at him and seeing him fail to catch even the simplest of tosses. Tosses so easy that a five year could catch them. The full moon is coming too. It's actually...the day after the next. Today is Thursday, so on Saturday it will be a full moon. I'm not gonna tell Jack or Mark either. They can just find that out for themselves. I'm so damn bad. I know that isn't some huge rebel thing, but hey, if they forget to check and wreck the place, it'll be my fault. I can clean the place up with a snap of my fingers anyway.

Mark's POV

I swear I'm forgetting something, but it's just not coming to me. Dammit! What the hell am I forgetting?! Ah well. It'll come to me...eventually. In the mean time, I'll just check Insta and Twitter and let my fans know that I haven't died or something. I somewhat tell my fans what happened. I just told them how I had a slip up with me and my clumsy self and got some bad ouchies. There is no way I'm telling them that I got possessed by a fire spirit and that I got thrown into a steel table by Dark. They'd recommend an insane asylum or something.
      "Hey," Jack says. I jump, I didn't hear him coming. "Sorry, I just came to check on ya." I set down my phone, not saying anything. "You alright?"
      "Mhm," I reply, having no comment. Jack seems to think that something is up and he isn't really being him. I'm not sure if it's him almost killing me or if it's something else, but I feel a little odd myself. Jack doesn't seem to entirely go with my answer and looks like he wants to dig deeper into the situation, but he doesn't ask again. I stare at him right back, an innocent look on my face. I have my eyebrows raised, mouth small and straight, and my eyes wide. But even though I didn't do anything (not like I could really do much anyway), he still gives me a look like a parent would to a child who is suspicious of doing wrong. Almost like trying to stare into my conscience or some bullshit like that. "So," I say, trying to change the subject a little.  "Going back and forth, does it mess with your sleeping and stuff? I mean, since it's afternoon over here, it would probably be night or early morning over there, right?"
      "Yea," Jack says. "It messes with me a bit, but I usually get it back into tract. It's like when you go to Cincinnati to visit family, only that this is what?... An eight hour difference."
      "Hold on a sec," I say to Jack. "Dammit. Google! Come here, I need to get up and piss!" Google gives me that look when Matthias commanded me to do the dishes, he gets up and holds his arm out, allowing me to pull up on it. He takes me pee and gets me back to the bed again. Jack is just staring off into the distance, I decide not to disrupt his train of thought and leave him be. I grab my phone and examine the picture. Jack gets up and excuses himself, saying that he'll be right back. He comes up later and sits back down, making it to where I only see the left half of this face.
      "Ow dammit!" He curses as if he pinched his finger. "Dammit! I pricked my finger." Pricked it? On what? I look around at his other hand, but he continues to leave it hidden. His jaw tightens and he closes his eyes for a second. The setting sun shining behind him, making it to where I can see a silhouette, few details showing.
      "You ok, Jack?" I ask, squinting my eyes as I try to see him better.
      "Never been better, lad," he replies. Something isn't right about his voice. Something isn't right, I can just feel it. Like when you're watching a horror movie and you just know when the monster is going to pop out.
      After a few long minutes, the sun finally sets, making my room dark and making me sleepy. Jack is still there, he hasn't moved since. It's pitch black and I can't see shit, even if it was right in front of me. I hear shuffling, and listen closely. I focus on my hearing and I hear the soft pit pat of thick liquid hitting the floor. Suddenly, I feel something cold against my throat. An ice cold liquid dripping on my shoulder, the feeling of someone on top of me.
      "Don't worry," it hisses, making it hard for me to hear who it is. "This is going to be quick and painless."
       "Google?" I whimper.
       "Google IRL is currently out of usable battery power," he says in his monotone voice. "Please put to charger." I curse under my breath. I feel the cold object press a little harder, blood barely but slowly drawing from the wound it's making. I bare my teeth, my hands cringed together at my sides, my muscles tense.
      "Dark," I barely breathe out, my windpipe half closed due to the cold and apparently sharp object pressed to my throat.
      "He can't hear you," it hisses.
      'Dark God dammit,' I say in my head. 'Dark it's dark up here, Google's out of battery power and there's something with a blade pressed to my throat.' My hands jerk to the thing, grabbing at it, but as soon as I do that, I feel the sharp stab of the blade making a painful, but not fatal gash in my throat. Dark then appears, the lights going on. It was Jack, his right eye leaking with the black liquid, the other green like a septic eye. He holds the knife in his hand, my blood dripping from it. Before Dark could do anything, I get a huge bubble of rage (which actually feels like a bubble and makes me feel bloated) and shove Jack. I shoved him harder than I intended to, because he goes flying about three to four feet away from me.
      "What the hell happened here?" Anti asks, now in the room next to Dark. I growl, looking down at Jack as his eyes go back to normal, green flashing over his irises before going to their regular blue. I get myself together and stop baring my teeth, pulling my lip down and turning my glare away from Jack and instead to Dark.
      "I almost got killed..." I growl, the raging bubble feeling like its about to burst. "Again." I glance at Jack when I said that, Jack only gives me a look of disapproval and plugs up Google before sitting himself down in a chair.
      "Well," Jack replies, his bright blue eyes making it a perfect cold stare. "I couldn't help myself. I'm trying. Maybe you should get your anger checked."
      "Oh!" I reply with mock surprise. "So this is my fault! Oh, ok! It's not like I had a knife pressed to my throat just a few second ago. Because I totally put this gash here on my own accord. There's nothing better than a good painful gash in your throat. You should try it sometime."
      "Your sarcasm is just so fucking spectacular," Jack snarls. "I'm sure a gash in your throat will do you well, adding on to the loveliness of your concussion and stab wound." I jerk forward, ready to grab him, ignoring the pain in my chest. I scramble out of bed to Jack. I then notice how I'm getting nowhere. Dark is firmly holding me by my shoulder, no effort at all.
      "Let me go!" I snarl, spit flying and dripping down my chin. "God dammit, Dark! LET ME GO!" I struggle with all of my willpower, Dark still simply holding my shoulder, still no effort at all whatsoever. He's simply just standing there, not moving an inch, even though I'm pulling and using my legs to push myself away, but he isn't budging.
      "No," he says simply. "I'm not letting you go. Calm yourself and don't go at Jack and I'll let you go." I stop, my breathing heavy, but my glare remaining icy. "Are you going to try to kill Jack?" Dark asks with a superior look upon his face, he's looking down at me like an alpha wolf would look down upon a mere and powerless omega, his nose in the air and his head held high.
      "No," I say lowly, my voice rumbling and sounding like Dark's. I look back when Dark hasn't released me. He has his eyebrow raised and he's looking at me like I'm an untrustworthy two year old. "Yes! I'm sure. I'm actually really sore now, so can you let me go?" Dark releases me and I fall to my knees. "Dammit! I told you I was sore!"
      "You didn't inform me that you were incapable of standing," Dark replies with a smartass tone. I roll my eyes, Dark sighs and holds his arm out like Google does. I grab it and pull myself up, Dark helping me a little.  "There, you big pussy. Are you satisfied?"
      "I would be if my head and chest didn't hurt," I reply with a sour look on my face. Dark rolls his eyes, saying something about how I'm never satisfied it seems.
      "Listen," Jack says with a worried expression. "I'm sorry, lad. But ya should've seen yourself! Your eyes were dark yellow! You just need to stay calm and recover. You can't recover quickly if you're pouncing all over people!" I growl, but then feel my facial expression soften when my mind comes to realize that he's completely right. I feel my gash, which is sore, but isn't bleeding. I then sit on my bed, pulling up my shirt and looking at my chest. The cut is still there and it's scabbed over, if I move around too much, that scab could either peel off early, or crack or whatever the hell scabs can do to break. I pull my shirt down and give Jack a sorrowful glance, realizing that this time... I was the monster.