Mr. Normal

Twisting Organs

•Y/N: Your Name

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Author's POV:
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His heart rattled in his rib cage, pulsing through his chest like the ticking of a bomb. The rush made his form unsteady, knocking him swiftly onto his knees as hot, acidic burns shot up through his throat. Cameron hurled into the toilet, unable to suppress it in time. The foul taste made him shudder and cry as he coughed and spat up a reddish bile while clutching his knotted stomach. His insides hurt so much. He didn't know why. He could've sworn it was just nausea, but something was wrong, something he couldn't figure out.

     Unable to look at the mess without feeling sick again, Cameron kept his eyes shut as he flushed the toilet, burping up whatever lingered in his system, but he kept it down with a hard swallow as he stood and covered his lips. His thin legs staggered towards the sink, crashing into it as his hands clutched the counter for dear life. With a few heaving breaths, he was able to gaze into the mirror at his bloodshot eyes and found a ghastly figure staring back at him. He looked so pale, his features somewhat sunken. Mr. Normal touched his cheek in disbelief, his reflection doing the same.

     "What has become of me?" He whispers, shutting his eyes and looking away before turning on the sink to splash water on his face, removing his glasses beforehand. He took deep breaths between splashes, the coolness of the water helping to wake him from his daze. Once he felt rejuvenated, Cameron sighed and leaned against his elbows over the bowl after turning off the faucet. Water dripped from the tap, slowing with each fall and reverberating in his head, while his heart gradually calmed. "I need a doctor"

You're fine. It'll pass.

His brows pinched tighter at the sound of his own voice calling out to him from the depths of his mind as he slowly lowered himself to the floor, neglecting the strength to hold himself up any longer. Hissing and groaning, he sat down with his back to the sink, resting his head against the cabinets. His vision was foggy without his glasses, but he couldn't bring himself to grab them. The world would just be spinning anyway. He tapped at his cheeks and rubbed at his face, ruffling his hair then pinching the bridge of his nose, anything to keep his mind present. Wild was reaching for the controls. He could feel it, but he couldn't let him.

"I will ignore it for now, but only if I get to be in control today." Cameron winced as a sharp pain shot from his right ear to the left, straight through the brain.

What?

     Cameron held his breath. He sounded angry. Just what was he planning to do this time that he would be so furious? He wouldn't back down. As frightened as he was, he had to protect Y/N.

     "I have to talk to her. I have to ease her mind, and I can't do that if you take over!" He shouts, having never felt more angry in his life. He kept replaying how Mr. Wild presented himself to her, how harshly he treated her. That isn't what he agreed to. That isn't what all this torment was for. "She's frightened." Cameron felt the sting of tears in his eyes when he thought of her flinching away from him. "I can't bear to see her frightened of me. Please, let me talk to her alone." Mr. Wild scoffed.

If things get out of hand—

"They won't." Sighing out in relief, Cameron gathered his strength and got to his feet before grabbing a nearby towel to dry his face. When he looked at himself in the mirror again, he knew he couldn't see her like this, so he picked up a brush, tamed his hair and straightened out his cream shirt before brushing off his beige pants. Next, he went downstairs to the kitchen to fix Y/N something to eat, homemade chicken soup with plenty of vegetables. The silence was refreshing, but he could still feel Wild hovering, as though he were standing right over his shoulder while he chopped celery and carrots. The knife pressed down against the cutting board with a thunk each time, and the more he focused on it, the more he thought about the things he had done with a simple, kitchen knife. An image of Mr. Peters, Darlene's husband, flashed through his mind, of a flash of red that crossed the man's jugular.