Me & Her

Her

Weeks of boredom.

Weeks of kissing Doc's inflated behind and still I'm not allowed to punch him again. I've been a good girl. Don't I deserve a treat? The first attempt didn't even leave a bruise.

Alice is being eaten by school preparations. I mean, how are there that many decisions?

It's not as if it's a wedding.

I guess you can say I'm going through the motions. Can you blame me? Trapped inside a two-way mirror, watching the cogs of our brain backflip over algebra. No thank you.

Every so often, I find I'm waiting for his return. Mr. Dark. He hasn't appeared in ages and I'm bored. Maybe he's just like me – wrapped up in pointless musings of psychology. From time to time, I almost feel sorry for him. I wouldn't want to be trapped in Dr. Light's brain either.

Talk about torture.

Hell really does exist.

Just because Alice hasn't spoken to him doesn't mean I haven't been studying him. He isn't orientated by people like most Doctors. He's here for the science, the curiosity. To Mr. Dark (I can't decide if calling him Bohemian is worse), I am that curiosity. And he is mine.

Crossing my arms on the dining room chair, I blast him out of my head. I can't afford to waste valuable thoughts on him.

Besides, he tried to kill me.

I tried to kill him too.

Ah, stop it. This is just unhelpful now.

Although, he is the only decent company around here. Thanks to Alice renting us out to school, there are to be no more midnight jaunts for me. Did I mention how boring she is?

Yesterday made things even worse. Alice saw Dr. Light being delivered a new batch of pills from one of his shadier contacts. Those blue suppressants. I've been meaning to talk to him about it, to talk to him on Mr. Dark's behalf. Someone has to.

It might as well be me.

After all, I know what it feels like to be shut out of your own life.

'We're sharing,' Alice reminds me haughtily. As if I could forget. Sharing is one word for it. Purgatory is another.

Inside our head, I catch her smirking. It sets the room alight. When was the last time she smiled liked that? Freely, genuinely. Without a single fear of being judged.

We've already had our therapy session today, which was fun if listening to two idiots mutter manufactured words to each other can be called fun. Using what little control I have left, I manoeuvre our legs out of the chair. Rough, Fall air hits up from the open window. Life seeps into me, expanding my ribcage. Out again. Inhale. Savour. Exhale.

'We're going to have to come to some agreement,' says Alice as I pace along the floorboards, hopping to avoid the lines between the wooden panels.

Otherwise I'll fall, fall down through the ground.

'About this,' she continues. She doesn't seem to realise I'm not listening.

'It's unfair. You deserve an equal amount of time in control. It's your life too'. I stop. It takes me a good few minutes to digest her words.

Unfair. I have been equally unfair to her.

'Why do you care? You've never cared about...'. She refuses to let me finish.

'I have always cared about you. You have to know that by now'.

'Fine,' I snap. This conversation is already too many blocks down mushy lane for me. Even though all of this, I've done because I care about her.