Research

Chapter Seven

- .... . -.-- .- .-. . .-- .- - -.-. .... .. -. --. -.-- --- ..-
-.-- --- ..- .-- .. .-.. .-.. -. . ...- . .-. -... . .- .-.. --- -. .
-.-- --- ..- .-- .. .-.. .-.. .- .-.. .-- .- -.-- ... -... . .-.. .. -.- . .... .. --

Michael slowly peeled his eyes open, his head still swimming. He couldn't remember much of what happened, only that he was in the office with Mark until his vision went dark. He remembered hearing things, but being unable to make it out. He even saw something? Although he couldn't see well past the static.

At least the scratching hasn't come back yet. Maybe it evolved into the black stuff he'd cough out. Although that made no sense.

He slowly sat up, realizing he was in his room. He felt... off.

Something wasn't right.

"WHO TOUCHED MY SHIT!?"

"Mr.Sunshine's awake," Mark mumbled, looking over the couch and at Henry who was making tea in the kitchen.

"I may be older than you but I'm not deaf," he said. "And you have neighbors above and below you so keep your voice down," he frowned when Michael kicked the door to his bedroom open. He wasn't exactly phased when he saw the deadly look in his silver eyes. He's seen a look like that too often to be affected anymore. Not that the look was ever pointed at him, he's just seen what happened to people when that were given it.

He'd rather not think about that.

"Why were you snooping in my shit!?" Michael sneered, walking up to the older man.

"Serves you right for digging around in my life too, yah?" Henry spat accusingly, but he had an amused smile and a raised brow.

Mark didn't want to interrupt so he just sat passively on the couch watching the tv, not that he could hear it anyway.

"Besides. Why don't you tell me what made you lose your arm?" Henry asked, his amused stare turning stone cold. He may not be an overly threatening person, but he still technically had authority over Michael and his friend.

Michael seemed to take the hint and calmed down. "I don't remember," he mumbled.

Michael was glad he didn't need to repeat himself when he heard Henry hum before he took a sip of his warm tea he recently made. He was never a coffee person.

"Why can't I remember things?" He asked. "Why is there scratching or static in my brain every time I try to remember something?"

Mark had enough of staring at the tv screen after hearing his friend. He sounded kind of distressed so he stood and walked over to join his side in the kitchen. Mainly for emotional support. He was too tired to sass anyway.

"I may not be an expert on people," Henry started, "but there's three conclusions I could draw. One: You most likely had amnesia at some point, but then you wouldn't even know your own name unless it happened when you still lived with your father. Even then that's a slim chance. Two: Your DID (or whatever they call it now) is probably messing with your memory. And/or three: I'm pretty sure your father probably gave you something to make you forget. He's advanced like that."

"I still feel like you make William out to be much smarter than he actually is," Mark said, crossing his arms and staring up at the older man.

"If he wasn't smart then I would've found him by now," Henry sneered. "He completely disappeared from my radar ten years ago. It's like there wasn't even a trace of him to begin with. No one remembers--"

"That's because no one wants to."

Henry didn't say anything more. He sipped more of his tea before setting the cup down on the counter beside him, his eyes never leaving Mark's. His cold hard stare gave him shivers, but he ignored it and kept staring back. If this were some kind of challenge then Mark wasn't about to back down and submit.