ANTIFREEZE

IGNORANCE

      Waking with a start, Evan sat up in a cold sweat. He’d thought that he escaped the night terror torturing himself previously, running his hands through his matted brunette hair to establish the vaguest feeling of control over himself. With shaky hands, he held the sides of his face- lightly patting his cheeks a few times to assure that he was, indeed, awake. He sighed in relief, closing his eyes for a few moments as he sluggishly collected his thoughts, swinging his legs over the side of his bed as his calloused feet brushed against the ratty carpet of the rundown room he was staying in.
            Habit’s fault he was here in the first place, in all honesty. The fucking whatever-the-hell he was wouldn’t let him return to his house. He would just move from house to house; unknowing of where the original tenants had gone.
            Not that he’d want to go back home, anyways. Not with the bits and pieces of memories that ran through his mind like burned film about Jeff. About Steph.
            The thought alone was enough to trigger bile in the back of his throat; making him lurch forward and cover his mouth with his hands in fear of actually throwing up. Once he welcomed the thoughts unknowingly, they kept pouring in. He felt the blade in his hand. He felt the bones crunch against his teeth. He felt the agonizing heat from Jeff as he burned in the audience of a puppet and his sadistic puppeteer.
            And God, did he hear the screams. They ricocheted off the sides of his subconscious; triggering the first of many headaches that morning. To try and dilute them, he ground his teeth together- which wasn’t much better, the yellowing enamel catching the chapped skin of his lips and mercilessly pulling at it; blood beginning to blossom through the small slit in his lower lip.
            Cursing to himself, he drew back and shook his head in a jarring fashion, which was just barely enough to grant him a moment to regain his tattered composure. From what used to make him feel hopeless about the death of his friends in the most horrid way possible only granted him anger- anger at the fact that he couldn’t find a way to break the bond the murderous entity had seared into his core. Angry that he didn’t just try and distance himself from Vinny to avoid dragging him into the awful game the monster had begun. Angry that—
            No.
            He couldn’t think about this right now.
            He’s been through enough mental trauma by Habit’s own hand to put himself through his own. Just what was he thinking?
            Getting himself riled up that badly?
            It wasn’t even seven o’ clock in the morning; the dim alarm clock beside him displaying the early hour of 5:45 AM.
            “…You fucking kidding me…?” He muttered to himself, getting to his feet as he put a hand on his hip; his other rubbing his face as he looked around the dimly-lit bedroom. He had always grown accustomed to leaving a single, small light on somewhere in the house to fend away the shadows that his mind would contort into apparitions that plagued his waking hours until Habit decided to step back into his skin.
            Then he was in what the entity claimed to be blissful fucking ignorance with a front-row seat.
            However, he did notice within his tired haze, while walking through the empty halls; that the kitchen light was on. This struck him odd, had he left it on? He would never leave anything as obvious as the kitchen light on- all he needed was a hall light or a light in the bedroom on that would quell the torment his mind had fancied to bring him. But something like a kitchen light? Unheard of. And he was damn sure he didn’t just leave it on after fixing himself a snack with whatever food the missing tenants had, mostly because he distinctly remembers neglecting his hunger for a little over thirty-six hours. Muttering to himself, he poked his head inside only to be terribly taken aback by what welcomed him- something that was worthy of a double-take.
            Humming a sickeningly familiar Frank Sinatra tune, a mirror clone of himself, dressed in ratty jeans and a beat-up Hawaiian shirt with obvious crimson stains, stood leaned up nicely against one of the counters whilst examining his fingernails boredly.
            Before Evan could even make a move, the other ‘Evan’ flicked his gaze up; vibrant violet orbs locking the other in place as a grin spreading over his face and displaying an unpleasant array of sharp teeth that didn’t quite look right in his own mouth.
            Scratch that.
            Nothing about this fucking scene looked right.
            Whistling, the leaned forward, somehow closer than Evan remembered; pulling the other in. That’s when the illusion faded, the kitchen turning into a shaded room that revealed nothing in particular beside the individual in front of him.
            Evan felt his stomach drop, mouth somewhat agape as the other merely laughed at his dawning realization that this, in fact, wasn’t his home reality.
            This was a false awakening.
            Meaning that Habit himself must have wanted to deliver a different flavor of torment.
            “Ah, Evan!” The entity called out, gripping the other by his shoulders and causing the boy to flinch. “Aha. I was wondering when you’d knock yourself out of that pesky little sense of security!” Habit was just as happy-go-lucky and visibly carefree as normal, which more than often meant trouble for Evan himself. After a couple moments of agony under careful watch of the other’s gaze, Evan narrowed his eyes.
            He knew he was a fucking idiot to try and stand up to this guy in any way, but would that stop him?
            Fuck no.
            “Get your goddamn hands off me-” He snapped, jerking his arms up and shoving the other back a bit. From what the brunette could tell, he’d caught him off guard, which was a small victory. Habit stood back, eyes squinted as he observed the other for a few moments before clicking his tongue; wagging his index finger like a doting mother. Evan felt his stomach sink- his brief feeling of pride diminishing as if it hadn’t been there in the first place.
            “Rude, Evan. Real fuckin’ rude. And to think that I,” The entity chuckled, placing a hand over his chest as Evan watched with mild terror as his rounded fingernails morphed into what appeared to be talons. “Was oh-so nice to think that maybe I wouldn’t have to fucking tear you to shreds to get my points across. To just talk to you. But, apparently, you’re still so fucking disobedient.” With an alarmingly fast sweep of his hand, Habit grabbed the other by the front of his shirt and tugged the other forward; slamming their foreheads together harshly. Habit, of course, didn’t react to it; but Evan felt pain splinter through his skull that he wasn’t too fond of. Grunting in pain, Evan cracked an eye open; coffee brown clashing with the bright purple of the other’s. His breath caught in his throat when he felt a jab at his throat from the entity’s sharp nails. He could tell the other wasn’t amused now, his playful demeanor practically being thrown out the window.
            And, with a lack of a better phrase, Evan Jennings knew he fucked up.
            Then again, he was pretty good at that.
            “Well-?” The brunette said, voice strained as he glared at the entity through narrowed eyes. “You gonna flaunt those around or are you gonna-”
            A searing pain tore through Evan’s throat, promptly cutting him off as Habit pulled a bloodied talon back. Evan coughed, hands going to his throat as the entity shoved him down; sighing in clear irritation as he’d begun to pace. Sitting up, Evan’s eyes tracked the being as he seemed to keep quiet for a moment. He felt blood seep through his fingers like warm molasses, the familiarity of the texture making his head spin.
            The only thing consoling him was the fact that this was still technically a dream. He would get out of this if he tried hard enough.
            Feeling a new sense of pride, he spoke up; cutting the entity off before he himself could speak.
            “What the hell’s the worse you can do, then?” He challenged, the question grabbing the other’s attention. “It’s a fucking dream.”
            “A dream?” Habit started, a slight twang of amusement in his voice as he tapped his chin. He paused briefly before chuckling, holding his arms out to his sides as he shook his head. “I’ve been around a long fucking time, Evan. Do you really think your smartass remarks can phase me? Wow. Looks like you’ve earned yourself a fun little playdate with moi.” He barked a laugh then, shaking his head as he approached the other meticulously; a shock of panic shattering his false sense of pride once again. He froze in place as the other squatted down in front of him, putting a hand on his shoulder as he flashed a nearly normal smile.
            That was until he rested his other hand against the crook of his neck, wrenching his hand which was cupped over his shoulder backwards- dislocating it cleanly. Pain erupted through his right side, letting out a nearly animalistic shriek of pain as the entity had moved to the other one before Evan could even comprehend what he was doing; a messier dislocation causing hot tears to blur his vision.
            Habit got to his feet, humming as he brushed his hands off; a cliché action that was as if he’d just finished doing some sort of work. A grin cracked across his features as he turned, rummaging somewhere in the darkness. Evan was in too much pain to really pay attention; thoughts clotting together in such dense masses he couldn’t tell the physical pain apart from the agonizing mental buildup.
            It wasn’t until Habit returned with an unmarked gallon-bottle that his attention decided to focus on something other than the mind-numbing pain of his dislocated shoulders.
            Habit didn’t even bother being nice about what he did next- humming faintly as he screwed the cap off the bottle; gripping Evan by his hair as he wrenched his head back to widen his mouth a bit more.
            “I thought of something that would be a much more interesting form of punishment.” The entity mused, chuckling as he, without warning, began pouring the contents of the bottle down the boy’s throat. Evan gagged, his first reaction to try and throw up the sickly sweet chemical in panic. He, however, could not. The liquid gurgled in the back of his throat as the entity continued; creating the horrid illusion of drowning as Evan struggled to get oxygen. The awful tune that Habit was so fond of reverberated in the entity’s throat, a melody that only brought the boy suffering in his current predicament.
            He’s graciously granted the ability to breathe again once Habit draws the container back- tossing the now-empty bottle of chemical fluid off to the side with a slight laugh. Evan gasped and sputtered as he tried to regain his breath, black dots clouding his vision as he swayed slightly in place. The sweet, almost candylike taste of whatever chemical the sadistic entity emptied into his system left an awful aftertaste in his mouth. And between that, the sudden dizziness, and the agonizing pains in his shoulders; Evan wished the other would just kill him already.
            But of course, this was just a dream.
            He felt all this pain with little real consequence, which wasn’t any more assuring.
            Habit hummed, holding his chin as he examined the other with a raised brow, like a scientist observing an experiment of sorts. This irked the brunette, but it wasn’t like he was going to push his luck any further than he already had. Humming, Habit rose a finger as he made a small circular motion with his index finger. Evan took it as nothing at first- but then he felt his stomach begin to turn.
            He felt sick. Terribly sick. He wanted to lift his hands to cover his mouth to hold back possible vomiting, but the slightest movement of his shoulders earned a pained whimper from him. Habit seemed to grow bored with this quickly- a small pout gracing his features as he snapped his finger. A clear, concise sound that bounced off the walls of their unknown enclosure.
            Seconds afterwards, Evan found himself vomiting blood.
            He’d expected to see the clear, blue liquid that he’d been forced to swallow- but when he’d glanced down to see the familiar, sickening burgundy shade coating the floor beneath him. He widened his eyes, but his body didn’t give him the pleasure of panic as he retched again. His throat felt raw as the taste of iron mixed with the toxic, sweetened chemical mixed in his mouth; an awful array of flavors that made his head all spin and his thoughts cloud over any last strands of common sense binding his mind together. He retched again. And again. Blood dribbled down his chin as he silently begged it to stop, knowing that Habit was just enjoying the view. For all he knew, the entity would just make it all worse if he had the audacity to ask for any sort of mercy.
            It wasn’t until around the fifth time he had vomited up the contents of his stomach until he realized that it wasn’t just blood anymore. A long, tubish buildup had begun crowding his throat, splaying out on the ground below him as his back arched from the excessive vomiting, the movement in his shoulders and upper back along with heaving several bodily fluids out his mouth clouding his thoughts with pain and his eyes with tears. Blinking away the warm substance as he almost lurched back at the sight on the floor- if it wasn’t for the fact the vomiting was now uncontrollable for him.
            Minutes passed at an excruciatingly slow rate as Evan, slowly but surely, ran out of stomach contents to throw up. The chemicals in his system caused his body to begin to deteriorate, and with whatever Habit had pulled, made it go much faster- getting to the point the young adult began to throw up his own entrails.
            Intestines mingled with rotting bits of liver and other mangled mounds of flesh that served a purpose in the boy’s body. Of course, with his nerves beginning to fail, the pain gradually decreased; eyes rolling slightly into the back of his head as his body began to go on autopilot. He slumped forward, vision blurring as he couldn’t even find the will to mind that he was lying in a mangled mass of his own decaying flesh and soured blood.
            He’d thought Habit was talking to him, but he couldn’t concentrate on it. It went right passed him as he felt his grip on the false reality loosen- his only partly-functioning psyche catching one clip of what the entity had to say.
            “-That’s enough, then.”

            Waking with a start, Evan sat up in a cold sweat.
            His stomach lurched with the sudden movement, as if expecting the sudden need to vomit- but there was nothing. Blinking, Evan brought shaky hands to his face, his lips, his shoulders.
            He was fine.
            Just as he thought.
            Blurry recollections of the night caused a shudder to run through his body, backing up into the corner of the bed as he held himself close; a lot shakier than usual. A few moments passed before he noticed he was crying again, silent hics slipping past his lips as he dropped his head into his hands.
            Once again, he found himself wishing Habit would stop playing games and just fucking kill him already.