I'm coming, Mummy. I want to be in that happy place, too.
***
Up Jack got and home did trot,
As fast as he could caper
Ouch.
My head's spinning. It hurts. Hey, wait. My head isn't spinning. My surroundings are.
Oh. It's stopped. Now I can see better.
These white washed walls... Where am I? Am I dead? Is this heaven?
Gosh. Why does my situation remind me of the television dramas where the character awakens, sees white walls around him, and then proceeds to deduce that he is dead, only to find out later that he is actually in a hospital with a slutty nurse tending to him?
Ah... So I am in hospital. I see the slutty nurse.
Just kidding. She isn't slutty. At least she doesn't seem that way.
I wonder if she is? I wouldn't mind some free sex.
Ouch. My head is hurting again.
How did I end up here? I remember the water waves...
The sea...
I fell...
Then, what?
I can't remember.
Who am I? Shit. I can't even remember my own name. Hmm... I wonder how I look? Ah, there is a mirror over there. It doesn't seem like the nurse would approve of me getting out of bed, though. I guess I'll have to wait till she's gone. In the mean time, maybe I should talk to her.
"Hello, sir. You're finally awake. You were found on the sea shore two days ago and you were unconscious the entire time. I'm glad you're okay now."
"Unfortunately, I don't feel like I'm going to be okay. I can't remember a thing. How did I get here? What is my name?"
"Somebody found you lying by the sea shore and brought you here. He's gone on some business and I don't think he'll be back anytime soon. He has already paid for your hospital bills, though. We couldn't find any identification on you, so unfortunately, we don't know who you are yet."
"Right. Doesn't help much if I don't know myself, does it?"
"Get some rest. I'm sure you'll feel much better soon."
Phew. She's finally out. Now, for the mirror.
Hmm. I don't look half as bad as I thought I would.
Of course, feeling vain, I'd very much like to elaborate on my facial features, but I have much more important things on my mind right now.
(Also partly because the writer has run out of good vocabulary and ideas.)
I want to go home.
Where is my home?
I think I can vaguely recall...
***
Jack stood in front of a deserted house, situated at the far east of a high-end housing area. How he got there, he didn't know. All he remembered was driving aimlessly for hours and hours in a stolen car, after sneaking out of the hospital.
(No, the car wasn't stolen by Jack. It was stolen by some kidnappers, who abandoned the car after finishing their job. I know this sounds a little coincidental and unbelievable, but that's how fiction is. Live with it.)
Before he knew it, here he was, standing in front of the familiar abode. Why did he come here? His subconscious mind probably brought him here for some unresolved issues, he thought.
Yes, you're here because we want to end this.
Huh??
Who said that?
Was it all in his mind, or did Jack hear a voice speak? Or was it just his own inner voice, freaking him out?
Wait.
How could he be so sure that the voice was talking to him? Couldn't it be just one of the neighbours, talking among themselves?
But...
The voice was whispering. A soft, sinister whisper, dripping with malice. A covenant that his arrival would certainly end it.
End what?
Jack was confused.
It didn't help much that Jack's mind was clouding up.
"If somebody was whispering, I couldn't have heard it unless he or she were standing next to me. Since I don't see anyone around me I'd have to deduce that the voice came from afar, which means the only way I'd be able to hear it would be if the voice shouted."
"But it was a whisper."
"So where did it come from? Come to think of it, I don't even know the direction of the source of that voice. It was just... there. Did it come from inside of me? Did I say it myself but didn't realise it? Or was I just hearing things? Gosh, I must be going crazy. Talking to myself like that, I should stop it. I feel like a maniac."
Jack gingerly stepped into the threshold of the said house, and carefully observed it's interior.
He felt strangely courageous and confident. He strode across the empty living room, towards the wooden stairs.
And went to bed and covered his head
In vinegar and brown paper.
His feet seemed to be on auto-pilot. They brought him up the flight of stairs, up to a bedroom, which held nothing but a tiny baby cot, by the window sill. The window was wide open and he felt the cool night breeze ruffling through his hair. He thought he'd seen the cot somewhere. As the first atoms of his finger tip came in contact with the somewhat rotting wood of the cot, a surge of chill shot through his body, making him turn rigid for just a tenth of a second.
You're here. Now, we can end this.
An invisible force hit him with great impact, hurtling his body onto the cot. The rotting wood gave way and before he knew it, he found his waist pressed hard on the window sill with half his body already leaning out of the wide window. Wood splinters hit him everywhere but he didn't feel the pain.
He was already soaring...
"I love you, Rodya..."
***
I love you too, Daddy. Don't worry, I'm bringing you to a better place. A place where you, Mummy, and I can be reunited again. We'll be a happy family.
***
Why did I not have sex with the slutty nurse before leaving the hospital?
Too bad she isn't in heaven yet.
Damn.
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