H8_Roger

Level 1.9 (Part Un)

WARNING: Time flux still in effect.

POV Switch: "the ginger asswipe"

"Hi, Mat."

A meek girl's voice pierced the darkness.

His eyes fluttered open.

"When can I go home?"

He sat up from the king-sized white bed, and turned to the disheveled brunette in the white dress.

"Christie..." He sighed.

"Yeah, Mat?" She smiled as she patted the white Chow Chow wearing the red helicopter costume. "Who's a good girl? You are, Empress! You are!"

Feeling too shitty, he wasn't even in the right mood to be shocked that the dog he thought was a guy for so long was actually a girl. Nor did he even feel like questioning how Christie had learned her name.

"You're never going home."

He got off the bed and opened the dresser at the front of the room for clothes. He knew the effort would be pointless when he was back in the Real but he was sick of wearing nothing but the ash-covered black jumpsuit. When he opened it he found a perfectly fitting set of clothes that consisted of a white dress shirt, a pair of jeans so faded they were practically white, some white boxers; with long white socks, and white boots with black laces and bottoms.

You wore black at a funeral typically. But he'd spent so long wearing black that he just wanted to change.

For bonus points...she was white too.

Plus that fucknugget Tat was clad in black. The white could be like a deliberate separation on his part from that copycat. Yeah...

"What...but you said...what are you..."

Fuck. He forgot she existed.

"Christie...face the fucking facts." He shook his head as he turned to her, buttoning up his shirt up and rolling his sleeves just enough to expose his forearms. "You're dead."

"N-No..." She got up to face him, Empress running out the door as if she knew things were about to get awkward. She grinned wildly and chuckled a bit. "That's a good one, Mat. Y-You always were a jokey guy, haha-SO FUNNY!" She laughed.

"I've probably told you this before. The other girls definitely did. This denial ain't healthy, Christie. Just went through all the stages as a matter of fact. I'd hate to think how it affects your cooking." He sighed.

"...my cooking...?" Tears fell from her eyes as she gave a crooked smile. "That's what you care about? That's...I HATE YOU, MAT! IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT!" She laughed harder. "That was the first time I ever used the word "hate", haha!"

Mat turned around. "You do you, Christie. Just stop killing yourself, it stresses everyone out."

"D-Don't walk away from-" He slammed the door behind him as he walked down the hallway to reach the staircase with the goal of accessing the fireman's pole. He stepped up on the railing and grabbed the fireman's pole. Wordlessly sliding down it, he paid no mind to the pain from the rope burn and didn't even give a sign of hurt as he landed in the catacombs with a thud, the resulting dust he kicked up thankfully wasn't the kind that dirtied his white clothes. Not that he cared.

It was hard for him to care about stuff at this point. He was confused. He was in pain. He was just...

Lost.

He was pretty numb right now. To say the least.

Grabbing a torch off the wall, he groaned as he made his journey into the labyrinth of shadows.