The Forest [septiplier]

4 - Rising Action

The voice was silent for about a week before it spoke up again. Jack and Mark hadn't been doing much; they revisited the plane every couple of days, rummaging again through the luggage that was left. They weren't finding many great things, just a little extra food and a sketchbook with a pencil. With it, Mark had taken to drawing maps, sketching out where they'd explored and where they still hadn't been. A huge part of the forest was still uncharted.

They were sitting in their part of the plane, cross-legged in the aisle between seats. Mark was bent over the sketchbook, mapping out the route they'd taken today. Jack was sitting behind him, messing with Mark's hair. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted something bright pink. A sneaky smile spread over Jack's face.

He picked up the plain pink hair tie, pulling it first around his wrist. He stealthily grabbed Mark's hair, grouping it together with the hair tie, wrapping it tighter. Jack pulled his hands away. Mark didn't even look up. Jack suppressed a giggle. Mark in a man-bun.

"You're nothing but a burden to him." Jack's smile fell as he froze, looking around the plane. You see, there's a difference between intrusive thoughts and hearing voices. To Jack, intrusive thoughts were mean and hurtful, but he'd know it's him thinking them. Hearing voices... Jack had no idea where they were coming from. The scariest part was that it- well, it sounded a whole lot like him.

"Did ya hear that?" Jack said.

"Hmm?" Mark said. Jack could tell he wasn't listening. Hell, he was so absorbed that he couldn't feel Jack fucking with his hair. There was no way he could actually have heard that. Those icy words uttered so quietly in a voice Jack recognized as his own...

"Nevermind," Jack muttered. Mark nodded, going back to his drawing.

He heard the voices again later that afternoon. He and Mark had taken out another trip in search of berries. Jack was holding the red duffel, Mark was holding the sketchbook. "Don't eat the yellow ones. White and yellow kill a fellow," Jack said. Mark gave a quick nod in agreement, but didn't look up.

"He doesn't care about what you have to say." Jack squeezed his eyes shut. Like shit Mark didn't care what he had to say. He was Jack! He always had something cool to say!

"Hey Mark," Jack tested, "the sky's fallin'."

"Yeah," Mark hummed. He still didn't look up.

"And I think that means I like tits," Jack said.

"Mmhmm."

"So that's why I befriended and bear and we frolicked into the woods. We had bear babies. It was fookin' fantastic." Mark nodded, head still in the notebook. Jack chuckled. He understood Mark only wanted to map the place out so they could survive, that it was dumb to think anything more out of that. It would be fine, Jack was sure of it.

The fourth time he heard the voice was only a day later. Mark was asleep next to him, snoring away. They were under the open stars that night, the gray blanket spread out underneath them. Jack was looking up at the stars, thinking to himself. He wondered if they'd ever be found. He felt so entirely vulnerable there, under the sky in one of the only openings of the forest inbetween trees.

"You can't trust anyone, especially him."

Jack sat straight up, eyes wide and mouth slightly open. "Okay, who the fuck are you and why do you care?" Jack said, looking into the openness. He recognized the voice that time.

"He's only putting up with you. He never really loved you."

"Shut the fuck up. We're married, of course he loves me. He's still here. There is no way he'd still be here if he was 'only putting up with me'." Jack insisted. "Go back to whatever hell-hole you crawled out of and leave me alone."