Upgraded Voices in my Head

Voices out of my head

Taking the computer's hand for support as he awkwardly rose to his feet, the gamer smushed the puzzled Squip's face in between his hands and examined its every angle, shaking a bit but standing his ground.

"...You...look like...my old Squip." He muttered, eyes fluttering shut before he slowly dropped to the floor.

"Well, of course I do, this is my default mode after a-Jeremy!"

After said human face planted into the floor's cold surface, the Squip immediately flipped him over and laid him down on his back, shakily murmuring obscenities underneath his breath. Pressing a hand against his host's forehead, the Squip scanned and analyzed his vital signs. He detected a steady pulse rate and Jeremy's breathing pattern seemed acceptable so there seemed to be no reason for immediate panic or contacting a hospital, but his additional readings reported a prominent lack of water, food, and sleep.

After scouring the refrigerator for water and food, the countertops for paper towels, and the cabinets for a first aid kit and rags he could dampen, he bent down next to Jeremy and dumped the contents in his arms onto the floor, placing a hand on the human's shoulder and bracing himself. As adverse as he was to the idea of electrocuting his new host on his first day on the job, an unconscious Jeremy couldn't drink water. That being said, after witnessing the fear swimming in Jeremy's wide eyes as he shot up and let out a blood curdling scream, he decided to label his adversity and the guilt hitting him in waves warranted, especially once the now breathing heavily young adult scrambled back into a corner and shielded himself with his arms out of terror induced adrenaline. Maybe he should've lightened the poor guy's intense voltage.

The Squip stepped forward slightly, attempting to gauge how close he could get without potentially setting him off. "Jeremy, you must understand, I have no intentions of harming you, I simpl-"

"You were just trying to help me back in high school and look what happened then, you oversized microwave!" He cried, eyes flickering around the room.

"Jeremiah, please, I don't know what you're referring to and if you don't calm down, you body has an incredibly high chance of going into shock. And quit looking for escape routes, i'm in your mind!"

"Why the fuck would I listen to you after all the bullshit you put me through!?"

"Because I am trying to assist you, you bratty imbecile."

Jeremy froze. He was right. The supercomputer had kept him awake and the junk lying on the floor couldn't have been for anything other his potential injuries. As much as he loathed the guy, Jeremy was going to have to accept the Squip's help until he regained his physical stability, granting him the strength to nab some more Mountain Dew Red from Michael's house.

"...a-alright, go ahead."

Signing in relief, the Squip's shoulders dropped as his face softened and he twisted the water bottle's cap off, holding the open end a half a foot away from Jeremy's lips. "Heere, drink this. You're severely dehydrated. Not too quickly, though. You'll overwhelm your body's systems." Shifting his attention to the first aid kit, he flipped open the lid and lifted a roll of bandages and disinfectant out of its casing before glancing back at Jeremy. "Can you tell me where it hurts the most?" His voice seemed softer, as if trying to avoid another freakout from his host. It was working pretty well thus far.

Up until that point.

"... Everywhere ." He cried, voice cracking.

The injured man shut his eyes tight as violent sobs began escaping from his throat. The splitting headache, lack of food, water, and sleep, busted lip, heavy amounts of electricity flowing through his body, and deep cuts on his arm, leg, and forehead had all caught up with him, resulting in mind-numbing pain coursing through his body. Trembling, he buried his hands in his face as the Squip pulled him into a firm hug he sank deeply into, rubbing little circles on his back and rocking him slightly as he whispered generic soothing words of comfort under his breath. Jesus, were humans always this overemotional? He certainly hoped not. There was no way in hell he could do this every night.