The Forest [septiplier]

6 - Climax

Jack woke up. He was laying on the forest floor, trees and a graying sky above him. Dirt surrounded him, bits and pieces in his hair and on his clothes. "Okay," he murmured, trying to sit up. A scorching pain forced him back down. "Holy hell." Cuts and gashes lined his abdomen. Blood was running over his skin, bruises all over both arms and scratches coating his legs. It was like he was ravaged by some wild animal.

Jack looked to his right, spotting Mark in similar condition. Jack tried again to sit up, this time forcing himself to sit criss-cross. "Well," Jack said, "at least the voices are gone." He moved to sit next to Mark, looking him over. Mark had significantly fewer bruises than Jack but was still beat up pretty bad. Jack ran a hand through his hair, smiling small. Mark's eyes fluttered open. "Mornin' sunshine."

Mark's eyes widened. He sat up quickly, scrambling away from Jack. In Mark's eyes, things looked different. Everything was so loud. He could hear things- the tiniest sounds of wings flapping, leaves rustling, Jack's breath. Jack.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, no need to get so scared," Jack said. "It's just me."

The words of earlier fled into Mark's head. The cuts, the bruises, Jack's tattered figure standing over him, brandishing a knife...

"Mark, it's just me, I- it's Jackaboy. I'm safe," Jack said, raising his hands in surrender. "There's two of us now, we can survive." Mark backed up further. He looked so startled, so... scared. Jack realized what was running through Mark's head. He gasped inwardly, connecting the dots. "No, no, listen, it wasn't me! That wasn't me!" Mark wasn't just scared, he was scared of him. Mark backed up slightly further, back smacking into a tree. He jerked his head both ways, frantic.

"No! Mark, you have to trust me!" Jack cried, moving slightly closer. Mark winced. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me, please," Jack said. His own blood was soaking through his shirt and he was nervous and injured and desperate. "Mark please!" Jack said. "I just want to go home. Please let me go home," Jack said, falling back onto his knees. A lone teardrop trickled down his face.

Mark stopped, looking over to Jack. He took a deep breath, noticing his state. He'd never seen Jack so unhappy. His childish glow was completely gone. He was torn up. Mark crawled slightly closer, looking up at his husband. He'd never looked so sad. Jack opened his eyes, seeing Mark finally give in. He gave a small smile. "Mark."

Mark's eyes flickered black.

Jack jumped to his feet, clenching his side in pain. Mark's voice echoed across the trees, deep and threatening and so unlike it usually was. "You tried to kill me, Jack. How do I know that you won't do that again? I have to, how do you say... Remove the threat." It was Jack's turn to back up in fear. "He's so scared in here," Mark said, tapping the side of his own head. "So scared of what you'll do to him. He loves you so much, but right now... anything could happen."

Jack took another couple of steps back and Mark crept closer. Jack's head darted around, searching for a way to escape. His backwards walk delved into a run. Mark jumped up behind him, seemingly unscathed by his wounds. His hair streamed back in the wind. He was violent, his teeth bared and his fists clenched.

Jack wasn't looking back. He'd thought this nightmare was over, that maybe he could just wake up in some hospital bed with his parents standing to his left, Mark holding his hand on the other side. The pain all around him made him sure, though, that this most certainly wasn't a dream.

"~ANTI! I know you're in there!~" Mark shouted. He gave a strange laugh, one that seemed eerily unnatural. Jack kept running.

Mark couldn't see. He was asleep while his body was awake. Nothing made any sense and everything felt like frostbite. To Mark, it was like wearing those glasses that make you feel like you're drunk, even when you're absolutely sober and that is not what drinking feels like. He'd wobble and he'd struggle and he's confused and emotional. It was like that, except without even being able to walk. He was lost inside his own head. This is what hell feels like.