Dents

[+] Starshine

((This chapter contains mature and potentially triggering material. Reader discretion is advised.))

2D and I hadn't spoken since the incident earlier that night.

I was on my knees on the floor. The grimy dustpan beside me was loaded with chunks of blue green ceramic and loose wires. I carefully removed any fragments I could find from the rug beneath my bed, plucking them out bare handed, one at a time.

Noodle told me in no uncertain terms that the lamp, or what remained of it, may have saved my life.

When 2D latched onto me, I instinctively pulled the wire of the lamp and sent it crashing to the ground. Had I not done that, I may not have been conscious enough to clean up the mess that followed.

As I kneeled there picking up the pieces, I thought of 2D. A perfect reflection of him watched me from within the caverns of my mind. His gangly arms fidgeted wildly; his missing teeth created dark gaps in his perfect smile. He warmed me like a wildfire in the midst of autumn.

I thought of his crooked smirk when he knew he had gotten under my skin. I reminisced on early morning hours spent with him leaning into the light of the television screen. I thought of his laughter and the way he struck matches. I thought of the way he struck a flame inside me.

Then, I thought about how he'd tried to kill me half an hour ago.

I thought about Essex.

I never really moved on from what happened to me. I didn't deal with it. I buried it in the darkest corners of my heart, somewhere I would never have to look at it again. I pretended to live outside of the shadow of my past. The helplessness I felt when 2D was on top of me reminded me that I was just as pathetically weak as I had always been.

One of the broken ceramic pieces lodged into the rug had a jagged edge to it. When I pulled it free of the carpet fibers, it embedded itself in my thumb. I plucked it out. The blue green flakes of paint were accented in red.

A small drop of blood formed from the hole created by its absence. I dropped the shard into the dustpan along with the others.

Maybe it was time for me to pick up the pieces of my heart that I had left behind.

I realized that over the stretch I spent with the band, the pain shifted from constant agony to a dull ache. Days had gone by where I hadn't thought of what happened to me even once, which I didn't think was possible when I first escaped.

As I gathered the last of the teal fragments in the pan, I wondered if the scars of my life before now would leave me entirely if I stayed long enough. Perhaps, if I maintained this pace, I could outrun all the misery that chased me relentlessly.

My memories of my true home would be a welcome sacrifice if I was able to forget everything that happened between my departure and my crash landing at Plastic Beach.

I rose from my place on the floor. My head was spinning. In a daze, I reached under my pillow and stuffed Father Merrin's card into my pocket.

I ambled down the stairs with the dustpan in hand. As expected, they squealed the whole way down.

The kitchen was unlit. The faint glow of streetlights outside served as the only source of luminescence in the room. The world was quiet.

2D sat at the table in the darkness. He held his head in his hands. There was an ashtray and a few books I'd recognized from Russel's collection stacked in front of him.

When I made it down to the last step and it howled with my weight, he lifted his head.

"Saoirse? Is 'at yew?"

I didn't respond immediately. I didn't know what to say. I dumped the contents of the dustpan into the trash and set the pan on top of it.

The blackness of the kitchen was a cloak that shrouded me. 2D's vision was poor. In the dark, he was lucky to see a few feet in front of him at best.

"Yew don't hafta say. I know et's yew."

I stood in front of the garbage a while longer, not sure what to do next. I didn't know if 2D was himself. I didn't want to get close enough for him to grab me if he wasn't.

"Why isn't enyone talking to me? Why won't eny of yew tell me wha's going on?"

I scooped a pile of dirty laundry off the chair beside him. The heap reeked of mildew and sweat. A loose sock clung to me like it was coated in a film of glue. I flailed my hand around until it fell off.

I sat next to him. I didn't move any closer. I had to be certain that I wouldn't put myself, or him, in another compromising situation.

"2D, you're possessed."

"Wha'? Russ' been tellin' me the same fing. 'At's impossible. I'm not possessed."

"Russel was, once. You're not invulnerable, 'D. It can happen."

"'E gave me these books," he said, gesturing to the assortment of paperbacks on the table.

"Told me if I wanted to know wha's happening, I'd hafta read 'em 'n decide fo' myself."

He frowned. His eyes bored into me with desperation.

"Bu' I don't get et. I've tried readin' 'em, bu' et jus' makes my head hurt."

Moonlight streamed in from the window above the sink. It lit the right half of 2D's face for a brief moment before another passing cloud drowned it out and engulfed us in darkness once more.

"You attacked me. Tonight. I think you might've been seriously trying to hurt me. But you weren't yourself when you were doing it."

"I... I attacked yew? Wha'... Wha' did I do?"

I turned my gaze to the knotted wood patterns ingrained into the surface of the table. 2D reflexively reached out to me. I flinched away, residual fear driving my actions. The expression on his face was painful to look at.

"Saoirse, please. Please, tell me."

"You choked me. I passed out. Noodle stopped you before it went any further."

2D covered his face with his hands. He shook his head back and forth as if the movement would somehow trigger the memory of what happened to return. His hair was messed over to one side, with the occasional lock flipped in another direction separate from the rest. His bony fingers trembled with anxiety.

"I'm sorry, Saoirse. 'M so sorry. I didn't know wha' I was doing. 'M so sorry," he whimpered.

Tears formed at the edges of his eyes, catching a glint from the streetlights outside. I trusted I was safe. The presence in 2D could never properly replicate his emotions so believably.

2D slumped over in his chair, repeating apologies until his throat was hoarse. I stood up and embraced him. He buried his head in my chest. I wove my fingers into the strands of his hair. His shoulders quaked. My shirt had become damp with his regret.

I wanted him to be okay. I wanted him to be himself again.

In his moment of weakness, it finally occurred to me that he was just as terrified as I was.

"2D," I murmured, "It's going to be alright. I promise. I know it wasn't you. I know you didn't mean for this."

He stuttered as if he was trying to speak before bursting into a series of anguished sobs.

"We want to help you. I want to help you. You have to believe me, okay? You can trust me, right?"

He pulled away to meet my eyes. Wet streaks of tears outlined the paths they had traveled down his cheeks. He responded without hesitation.

"I trust yew, luv. I - I believe yew."

Quietly, he added, "Please help me."

My heart felt like it was going to shatter.

I reached in my pocket, feeling for the familiar piece of cardstock Russel had entrusted me with.

"Call Father Merrin."