Under Pressure

Part 19

"--can't stay here."

Voices, muffled and distant, a million miles underground.

"We're in a hospital! Our son almost died, Linda!"

Sometimes, it was hard to hear the words.

"You can't take him."

"You're being unreasonable, Ray."

"Unreasonable? I'm the unreasonable one? You're involved in," the voices faded, blurred, dipped an octave and rose again, "--is Linda even your real name?"

"Yes!"

"I'm telling the police the truth."

"For goodness sake, I already explained this to you-"

The voices grew louder, more heated, causing a dull ache to bloom.

"If you must argue, do it outside."

Silence.

Angry whispers.

Shuffling feet.

Click.

"Go back to sleep, Jeremy."

A warm touch slowly soothed the ache away.

The world was red.

Red.

Red.

"I understand now, Jeremy."

The red sun burned low in the sky.

"Understand what?"

"What it means to be human."

"Oh. So... what is it?"

"This."

Fingers laced together, fitting like a glove, unwilling to let go.

"Uuuh, hand-holding?"

"No. Love, Jeremy."

"I knew that."

He slipped his hand away, but they gripped it again, tight, unrelenting.

"Hold onto me."

The voice was warm and familiar, but the face was a mystery.

"Don't be afraid. You're safe now."

It seemed so obvious, on the tip of his tongue, but the answer eluded him. His heart was beating fast, a fuzzy feeling in his chest. Nothing bad could happen here. They were smiling at him, bright and sad in the darkness, in the dying shades of red.

"Who are you?"

My

name is .̶̛̼̥̭͔̱͔̱̼͍͙͔̖̭̳̖̟̒̌͊̌͂̍͆̅̈́ͫ̇̋ͬͬ̉̔̅̐ͅ.̴̰͈̪̗͕̰̙͈̟͓̻̣̪̥͑ͣ̿ͤ͌ͤ͊̐̽̍̍͘͘͠.̸̱̟̠̦̮̦͇̹͈͕͊̅̂̋̍̏̚͘͟ͅ.̸̵ͭͫ̂ͨ͜͏̻̤̱̫̮̝͉̭̟̜̖̦̜̜.̵̢͇̮̼̩̖͔̰̱̒ͧ̋͆ͦͧͫ͊̌ͮͩ̚͘.̶̷͉̗̟͙̗̼͚͚̅ͫ̒͂̊̾̒̑̀̈̈́̐ͪ̄ͧ̑͂͝.̃͗̃̌ͩ͒̅̅͛ͫ̎̔̎͟͝҉̦͇̮͍̺̮̻̭̰͡.̐̄̐ͧ͒ͤ̓̀̔ͥ͢͏͚͙̮̞̪̜͓̮̱̙̭̞͕̦̺̦̲͡.̸̨͇̰̩̰͎͉̜̞̙̳̙̖̲̤̼̹͍̉ͪ͑̊̐ͦ̏̀ͨ̐̌̈́͛ͩ̐ͨ̕.͕̣͚͚͕̱͈͕̼̺͈̜͇͖͕̖̝͖ͧ̃͑̒̾̍͒͆ͬ̉̚̕̕͞.͊̌ͧͯ̎̊͜҉̹̦̦̥͉͍̥͚.̤̻̗͈̬̜͔͕̭ͬ̀̏͌͊̃ͬ̅͑̌͌ͫ̉̑̐͒ͦͯͦ͜͠.̲̞̞͕̲͍̦ͩ́ͥ̌̿͌͜͝.͇͕̘̟̻̹̹̻͇̪̥͍͔̮̞̗͊͒̃̄̚͜͞͡.̷̸̱͚͇͎̥͉̤̗͇̞̩̗ͭ͆͒̀ͨͦ͑̊͜ͅ.͓͓̻̖̥̠̮̹͈̠̹̜̣̄͑ͦͨ̋͌̒̀̉ͣ̓̀͢.̶̧̡̘͕̳̞̫̦̹̦̭̞͔̲̪͈̗͉̳̉͊̔̈ͩ͌ͪ̄̾͐͜͝.̺͖͉͍̬̱͎̻͔̼͈̰͔̣͕̹̣ͩ̀͋̎̑̐ͬ̚͢͠.̴̱̞̦̤̺̦͑̓̆̓͌ͣ̓̏̇ͩ̄͆̈́͆͆̇̓͑̔͘̕.̷̡̧͎͙̭̼̟͇͍̭͈̥̦͔̦͉̥̌̄͒̀ͦ̀ͪ.̡̯̤̺̻͉͚̜̘̯̼̿ͭͪ̈́ͩ̇͑ͧͨ͌̏̓.̴̨̜͈̥̲̘̮̮̞̗̩̔ͫͦ̇̓̽ͦͩ͡.̡̼͉̥͍̼̦̞̙̩̥̥̻̗̝̺ͨ̏͒̃̑ͯ̆̋͊͟͠.̸̱̫̱̗̬̰̭̥̣̱̤̯̫̱̗͖̬ͤͯͬͬ̅̍͗̓͗͗̂͒̇ͯ̕͞.̷̢̭̝̫͈̹̫̻͉̮̠͙͔ͤͩ͋͗̿̍͌̌̌̐̆̀̂ͫ̈͂̂̚͜͜͠