S#!FT; [A Collaborative Tale by SilentTrinity and Tenyas]

[Tenyas]

S#!FT; Extraordinary or Imaginary?

So...

I guess I'm sort of fated to die in a cosmic way.

I mean, I knew I was going to die anyway. That's not shocking in the slightest.

But... To know I'm going to die and everything supports me dieing and that I'm supposed to die.

That sort of hurts.

And what hurts more is how he knew all along. He knew all along that I was going to die and he didn't tell me anything. That I was screwed over the minute it all began and when I first even made contact.

I need to remember. Remember where I screwed up. Why I even bothered. Why I let this happen.

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1st Chapter;
Perspective of a Machine, Prelude

Calculating status...

Processing...

Warning;
Processes limited to 50% capability.

Sensory Systems;
50%

Shell Status;
50%

Energy Retainment Systems;
50%

Mobility Systems;
50%

Data Logging Processes...

Complete.

Calculating Location...

Processing...

Processing...

Processing...

ERROR.

Unable to Calculate Current Location.

Insufficient Data.

Insufficient Processing Capabilities.

Aborted Action.

Calculating Targets...

Processing...

3 Targets found.

Processing...

8 Targets found.

Processing...

27 Targets found.

Processing...

351 Targets found.

Processing...

Completed.

1,893+ Targets found.

Initiating Primary Objective.

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Perspective of a Girl, Perception

Her name was Issabelle Syandora. She was a rather normal girl. Her hair was long, enough to where she was beginning to worry about nearly sitting upon the golden locks. She dressed normally. Blue, denim, jeans, t-shirts with various pop references, sneakers, that sort of thing. She owned an ipod, kept it pocketed with the thin headphones and their cord wrapped around her neck in such a way that, with a jacket, it would be unnoticable. She was only fifteen years old.

Issabelle didn't really have any friends. She only ever was in the vicinity of other people when at school, and even then she avoided many like the plague. Her idea of a nice day out was to take a bag full of various snacks and books and songs out with her to a secluded place out in the middle of some backwoods by herself.

Her parents couldn't really find any way to convince their daughter to be more social. They already had their own issues, one addicted to methamphetamines and the other an alchoholic. Tensions were high in the household. There had been nights where Issabelle could go out on her own into the dark without her parents being any wiser due to their own argumentative bouts. The girl would leave and try to find her own quiet places to stay for several hours at a time, the act getting much easier with practice as she memorized the paths to a few fanciful hiding areas.

This evening was a night to test such memory skills. From within her room, the girl sat and listened to her parents' argument. Like always, there were the colorful slurs of one parent versus the high pitched and almost wailing injustices of the other reverberating through thin walls and vents. Issabelle had a room that was very modest by only containing a heavily worn dresser, simple twin-sized bed, a small night stand with a chipped lamp, a scarcely used closet, and a book shelf that mainly held tales and tomes from her childhood. There was little that seemed even relatively new in the room.

A backpack was procured from beneath the bed, Issabelle sliding it up and setting it upon the covers beside herself, working quietly in the dark. She felt through the bag, sorting out familiar textures. A worn book she was only halfway through reading, a couple blankets; one soft and the other built more like a sleeping bag, a flashlight, a bag of peppermints, bag of chips, a few bottles of water... That pocket checked out. After rezipping that, she checked the side pockets, glancing at her bedroom door every twenty seconds or so to ensure there wasn't the shadow of a person about to enter. She had her lighter, good.

Issabelle closed the backpack up once more and slid the straps over her shoulders, walking forwards to her window. She unclasped the loose locks upon the almost splintering frame and swung out the two panels. There was no netting and she had long ago began greasing the pivots to prevent any creaking disturbances. The girl stepped out of the frame and onto damp, untrimmed, grass. She was already accomadated to seeing in the dark, having spent so long just sitting in silence in her room to give the illusion she was fast asleep.

The night air was crisp, moon above waning as tonight was a night just after the full moon. There were scarcely any stars to be seen, most all obscured by light pollution from the city. Even the Big Dipper was difficult to see, barely a set of pinpoints in the midnight skies. But, Issabelle already knew where she was to be going.

She trekked through the grass, recalling by the feeling of stones and changing ground beneath her feet where she was going. Tonight was a good night to head down to one of her more preferable spots. Near her less than favorable house was a small brook. Following along it, it would soon dry up and pool into a pond. A little beyond that was a small backwoods. She called them such for the fact that they were often someone else's backyard, just so rarely used that it was perfectly safe for her to 'intrude' for hours at a time, sometimes making a small fire for light and warmth that a simple flashlight could not provide.

After a little while of walking, she had entered the backwoods and was making her way uphill when the sound of police sirens reached her ears. Fearing she would be spotted, the girl leapt behind a tree and took cover with the shrubbery near it. Surely enough, from down the dirt road she had been near came the red and blue lights of a police cruiser, siren blasting into the night like some haunted feral cat. Issabelle didn't care for the men who drove those cars nor those who wore the esteemed badges. They came so often into her neighborhood and missed so many of the issues within she no longer saw them as a good form of protection as she had as a child. It was rather childish of her, but she stuck her tongue out at the lights after they'd passed. Even with the knowledge that they had likely been going to quickly to spot her and that she was hiding, she still felt a little bit better in a way that could only come of being immature.

Certain that there were no other cruisers coming along, she continued up the hill.

It must have been around three in the morning by the time she found her hiding spot.

It was a sort of grove mixed with a meadow. A couple of the trees here were fruit bearers, one a crabapple tree and the other a red apple. The rest were conifers like pines or redwoods, towering high with their needled branches swaying like some mutated umbrella in the wind. The occasional squirrel could be heard jumping from branch to branch, one or two taking it upon themselves to toss a pinecone or a rock down at the intruder. Issabelle didn't mind nor care. Currently, she was investing more of her focus into setting up a small spot she oft used as a fire pit.

Twigs were thrown in, some dried moss as tinder, and rocks were used to contain it in a circle. The lighter appeared and, in moments, a fire was started. Green eyes watched the flames with a sort of apathy. There should be some form of creature comfort here somewhere within the man-made warmth. But, alas, it was unnoticed by the girl. If she had come out here for any reason other than her parents' arguments, she would have enjoyed this somewhat. That wasn't how it went, however.

The backpack was unzipped and her supplies were spread for use. The soft blanket was atop the other, waterproof, with her snacks set upon it in a corner, within easy reach. She sat cross legged upon the blankets, one side of the cloths folded in to both avoid the fire and to give some cover for her feet if she so needed it. In her hands was Clan of the Cave Bear, a novel she had picked up some time ago but had never quite gotten around to reading. She hadn't been interested in it at the time. The focus was, from what she could tell, a young girl who had lost her family and tribe during a natural incident and her journey, meeting other clans and growing up. It sounded as if it'd been done time and again, but Issabelle was bored and she needed something to distract herself.

Cold air would flood her lungs and make her shiver. It was enough for each exhaled breath to condense in the air, making a white mist that hardly managed to shine in the light of both her aged flashlight and fire. It was around four in the morning now and Issabelle was thankful she didn't have school tomorrow. Knowing how her parents were, it wouldn't be truly stable in the household again for another hour. It would be inaccurate to say she wasn't drowsy. She was highly tempted to merely bundle up out here and sleep, comfortable as she was in this setting compared to the one at home, but thoughts of being found out by her father kept her from falling to the temptation. Her attention upon the words on the pages in front of her was slipping, causing her to become more and more aware of the noises around. Generally, she would ignore such things, unnerving as they were.

Tonight, she could hear the rustling of what she could only assume to be a raccoon or something akin to that moving about, likely foraging for something to eat. The chirps of crickets and the low voiced, squelching, croaks of frogs made it hard to stay within the world her book was trying to depict. Images of prehistoric earth were muddled with visions of clouds sweeping over the night sky and hooting owls. The smell of fresh dirt and plants was obfuscated with the scent of dew and coming rain. No, no, she couldn't keep this up for much longer. She needed to start heading back. Her night on her own was coming to an end as she packed her things up, feeling let down as she had expected enjoying the read oh so much more than this.

It had been when she was about to kick out the fire that she had been taken off guard by a voice and a shadow.

"Hello there."

Issabelle spun about on her heels to face the form that had appeared in her peripheral vision. It couldn't be a full grown man, no. The voice was too young for that. But, it was too old to be merely a child running about in the ungodly hours of the morning. The girl now wished she had brought a method of self defense with her on this excursion.

She remained silent, trying to spot the face of the stranger while still backing ever so slightly away with her belongings at hand. She had packed her flashlight, thinking it not needed since she knew the path. It would have come in handy now. The figure just watched and she had the sense that they were smiling at her, almost mockingly. Issabelle was quickly thinking of what to do. Question? Run? Don't run? Wait until something happens? All of those ideas sounded-

"All of those ideas sound kind of stupid, you know."

"Wh...-What?" Now she was surprised. What had she done to tip him off? Surely she hadn't given away her thoughts through body language.

The figure gave a chuckle, though no smile could be seen, and they continued. "If you questioned me, I wouldn't really have good answers. If you ran, I would run after. If you don't run, then I guess you're just stuck with me. If you wait, then nothing will happen. That make sense?"

Issabelle bit her lip, hands wringing out one of the straps on her backpack. The fire continued to crackle and pop but the previously irritating sound of crickets had ceased, making the chilled night seem all the more empty in the pitch black emptiness. "Who are you?" The words left speedily and, to her great annoyance, nervously.

Another chuckle and the shadow shifted its placement to lean against a tree, as if he had all night to talk. "I don't really know, to be honest. I could be a guy who lives here. Or one of the... Owl things. I could even be you, I think." He took a step forward and the girl let out a frightened yelp that was quickly silenced by a hiss of distaste. "What? Am I frightening you? Don't worry. I don't bite. Not on purpose, anyway."

It was now she realized that the shadow wasn't actually speaking. The whole time she hadn't seen a single movement that suggested actual speech, and to her horror the words in retrospect seemed echoed. Although an origin could be ascertained, she could not tell if they had actually gone through the air to her ears or simply spouted into her own mind. No, no. She must be tired. Such a thing could not possibly happen. That would break many of the laws she had learned as a child. You can't talk into people's heads, that only ever happens in fairy tales. In books and stories and make-believe games.

"Hey, why are you scared? I haven't done anything yet." Yet. That word only made Issabelle wish to run away more. Whoever this freak was, they could take their stupid mind game and shove it.

"That's not very nice."

"Shut up. Who the hell are you?" She now had an irritated bite to her words. Like a cornered dog faced with a man with a net, she didn't know whether to snap, snarl, or slip away. "And get the hell out of the dark." For a moment, she wished she had someone here with her. If only she weren't an only child, perhaps some big brother figure would have frightened off someone like this. No. If she had someone like that with her, she wouldn't be running off like this in the first place. It was idiotic, now apparent by her predicament. Still. She kept wishing while all the while trying to keep calm.

"Fine." The voice seemed different. Perhaps her focus was kicking in with the adrenaline. "If that's what you really want." Once again, the stranger strode forward, only this time close to the fire. The light of it illuminated what had once appeared to be only a shadow, revealing sneakered feet and a figure she had been sure was shaped ever so differently before. To her shock, the mysterious he was a teenager, very likely no older than her. His hair was a light brown color and messy, something she had been expecting in the back of her mind. His clothes were all baggy, from the white colored pants to his blue tinted hoodie. He could surely fit in with the masses at her school. But, something did stick out.

A yelp rang out and Issabelle made to flee, only to be driven into rough bark seconds after. His eyes. They weren't normal. No, no human has eyes colored like that. And his teeth. Sharp, like a shark's. No, this couldn't be real. None of this could be real. It had to be a hallucination. She had to have fallen, been struck over the head, be unconscious right now. But it felt real, it felt all too real as she could physically feel arms restraining her and the weight of her bag pulling uncomfortably upon her arm and the scratches and bruises to come of having impacted a tree so hard. She hissed and struggled and tried to break out, only to be stopped by a rough voice growling into her head.

"I told you I wasn't going to bite. Calm down."

"C-calm down?! LET ME GO. LET ME-" A hand clasped over her mouth, leaving her only to let out a frightened whimper. She was going to die, wasn't she? This freak was going to use her and break her and just drop her, right? Her parents wouldn't know of what happened. It would be weeks before she would be found. She never told anyone of her hiding spots. Of how she would go out like this on her own to try and get away. She could only hope she wouldn't be tortured or mutilated or something twisted like that. What would he do? What was he going to-

"Shut up. I'm not doing anything to you." Like hell he wasn't. He had her restrained, against a tree, with a hand over her mouth and his weight crushing her so much she could scarcely breathe. Just as that thought passed through her mind, the pressure upon her lessened and she could breathe easier. Still, she was terrified. Tears welled to her eyes and she was ashamed of the sheer amount of fear she had. The teenager who had her pinned growled again, but seemed to be trying to speak more calmly. "C'mon, c'mon. Stop thinking like that. I'm not going to kill you. I'm not going to do any of those other things you're thinking of either. Just listen, okay?" Issabelle could feel herself going limp, knees about to give out. Then what was he going to do? Oh, she just wanted to go home now. Just curl up and slumber and wish this away like some bad nightmare.

"You passing out will help nothing at all," He snarled it, "Now stop panicking. Keep calm and I'll let you talk." His grip loosened more and she regained the use of her arms. She was too frightened to try and shove him away, however. "Alright, that's a start. Now. I'm not from here. And, guess what? Nobody else can see me. I don't know what a 'ghost' is, but sure, I'll go with that. I don't know what a name is. I don't know where I am. I don't know what dinky universe this is. I wasn't able to even have a form until I made contact with you. That make sense?" The girl shook her head and he frowned. "Your stupid language is annoying. I can't accurately describe just how much I do not know versus what I remember to you, so I guess we'll have to do this more directly." Sharp teeth. Ringed, spiral, eyes. The words he was saying. It all made her feel ill to the point where she honestly believed she was going to be sick.

The teen released Issabelle completely, backing up a couple steps. Now was her chance. Call for help somehow, get this loony away. Just as she was about to scream, a cacophony of indescribable emotion slammed into her skull. Utter blackness, no sense of direction, no light. What is warmth? Cold is merely the absence of heat, but what is it when heat does not exist? She could not recall what her name was. Wait. What is gender? Such a thing requires there to be a physical manifestation of existence. To have existence, you need an idea as to what that is. Matter? Time? Space? How does that correlate to such an idea? Beginnings are the cessation of one existence. An ending is the climax of another. A loop means a continuous spiral but such circuitry requires a start. A start means that there is an intersecting point where there had been nothing then something. The first dimension requires there to be a linear plane with no left or right values. Second dimension requires a flat plane with no sense of height or depth. Third dimension values require there to be height, width, and depth. A fourth dimension requires there to be something in existence that we are missing. How does one imagine something that does not exist? All imagined values are things that correlate to what exists within this dimension. What is missing? Sapience and Sentience are two different things. Sapience is experience and wisdom. Sentience is the ability to formulate and put into value complex thoughts. How does one describe a thought? Intangible objects are, within the third dimension, non existent. Protons are tangible. Electrons are tangible. Photons are tangible. Neural passageways within the brain send messages via ATP fueled energy sparks. The thoughts within those waves are intangible. To attempt to describe color, one needs to have experienced it. Experience leads to thought which leads to the ability to convey messages.

The sensation of what was being conveyed to Issabelle required that she understood the fourth dimension. Something that does not exist within her area of experience and thought. To make matters simple, she ceased understanding and merely felt. She no longer understood what the hell she was standing on, breathing, nor what her eyes were seeing. She didn't understand why her body was sore, nor what soreness was. All that was in existence at that moment was just experience without thought. The minute her reality returned, she felt as if she were going to puke.

"Wh... What was that? What the f**k did you do to me?" Her mind buzzed with thoughts that had little meaning now. Drugs were simply chemicals, unable to induce what she had just experienced. Attempts to sort out what had just swept into her mind and obliterated her thinking patterns did nothing, as recalling it required understanding, of which she had none towards the topic. Issabelle noted she was on the ground now, dirt grating her scratches and mixing with drying blood. She also noted that the teen who had had her pinned before was now on the ground as well, groaning and hissing in pain. Vaguely, she thought that things had not gone well at all for either of them. A sort of muted joy bubbled through her brain, almost like a 'take that' that was too stunned to come to fruition due to sheer what the frickery.

After a few dry heaves, the girl finally managed to get onto her knees. Her watch said that not even eight minutes had passed since she last checked. She glared at the stranger, who still clutched at his head and whined into the night air. She was sorely tempted to just roll him over a bit more, into the fire, but such a thought made her feel even more ill. Best to not tempt fate any further. Shakily and through use of a tree for support, Issabelle stood up and grabbed her things. Her mind was still dull, so her walking right up to the stranger was far less frightening than it should have been. "I a-asked you a question, jerkwad." She kicked him, lightly due to both how tired she felt and how she was still getting over shock.

He gasped and twitched, taking a few heavy breaths before even opening his eyes. They were spirals. Spirals of blue and red. No eyes should be like that. No teeth should be like that. His voice came up gravelly and shaken, "I-I should ask you the s-same thing. Th-that..-grhn... H-hurt." He said the last word as if it were something he had never experienced before. A foreign thought and feeling to his very existence.

A twinge of pity bubbled at the back of the girl's mind, only to be outmatched by the spite she now held towards this stranger. She felt like she had just had her entire being violated. Partially physically, due to her having been restrained, but mainly psychologically. As if he'd just stolen and copied every bit of her brain, stuffed it with alien and painful things, and shoved it back in, worn and used. "You d-deserved if. Freak." She had to remember the way home. Get far away. Forget this ever happened and that she had ever experienced whatever had just been placed into her brain.

The teen grabbed the girl's ankle, frowning and still panting. "D-don't leave me here. I j-just... Sorry. Whatever that means, I-I am that. S-sorry. Okay?" He coughed, panted a bit more, and struggled into a sitting position. Issabelle tried to keep thinking of that spite, hold onto that thought, but that sensation of violation crept in once more, this time piping in emotions of fear of abandonment. It was revolting. And he kept doing it. Somehow, he was doing this, just piping straight into her brain whatever emotions he had going on. Pain. Fear. Hunger. Confusion. Attachment.

That last thing was repeated over and over again.

Attachment, attachment, bound and bonded and some other things. It was creepy, unsettling, and made her skin crawl. She wished she could ignore it, just walk away. He was... a thing. Something. Anything other than human, certainly. "Y-you're sorry? Sorry? How could you possibly be sorry for what you did? Just... Whatever you're doing, whatever the feck you are doing, stop it." She yanked her foot so as to walk away, but he held firm. "Let go."

"N-no."

"Let me go, dammit."

"No."

"Screw you. Go die in a hole you thing." Issabelle tried to pull away again, only this time to be yanked down to the ground. She was pinned again and too stunned to scream.

He, or it, or whatever he was had her back pressed against the ground. One leg pinned both of hers and his arms held her by her forearms, crushing them into the earthy, pine riddled, floor. Now she was scared. He was growling and she was unsure of what to relate it to. Too odd for a dog, too light for a car. It was threatening and shook her and made her think 'animal'. He ceased the snarls and whispered, "You are going to die without me."

She believed he was insane once more. "What?"

He hissed and looked up to the sky, as if looking for answers on how to force her to grasp the concept. "You. Are. Going. To. Die. Without. Me."

Issabelle squirmed, feeling her hands going numb and the sting from the dirt and needles in her cuts. She was going to question him or kick him but he beat her to the punch by forcing more of those sensations into her head, making her whimper and cease thinking again. As quickly as the experiences came, they stopped, leaving her mouth feeling bitter and her mind buzzing. Fear. Hunted. Accident. There weren't really words to describe it at all. It was as if she had done something bad just by existing while, at the same time, the 'hunters', whoever they may be, were the bad ones for living. Alien, foreign, thoughts kept creeping in, in smaller and smaller doses. Whatever he was doing, it seemed to be an attempt to explain something that he didn't even understand. Just experience. "Stop... Stop. Stop, oh god, please." It felt as if her head were going to explode if this continued. Tears came and she was shaking. It was an animalistic fear. That's all she got from whatever the hell he was trying to say. A primal, animalistic, fear where there was no such thing as good or bad, just death and survival.

"Sorry. Do you understand? I am going to die if you just walk off. You die without me. Get it? Do you get it now?" He shook her, no longer pinning her legs but still keeping her arms clutched.

Issabelle shook her head, trying to hold back sobs. She didn't understand sh!t anymore. She just wanted to go home, to her bed. To get these cuts cleaned and stop being sore and get the hell away. The teen seemed as if he were about to say something more when his eyes darted to the sky above. He stared, as if seeing something in the blackness, and then hastily got the girl up off of the ground. She was still dizzy and nearly slumped back down before he had her on his back. The girl didn't even have it in her to protest anymore, dazed and hurt and confused. The alien thing took notice. "What is a home?"

She sniffled and cringed as she could almost feel him trying to probe her mind again. He stopped, however, and waited for a response. Unsteadily, Issabelle replied, "It's where I live. Where my things are, where I'm safe." This only confused him, so the girl tried to elaborate but couldn't find the words. Frustrated with the inability to communicate effectively, he just ripped something from her thoughts, leaving her numb once more and unable to form coherent thoughts as he strode along with both her and her things.

Upon being in her bed, Issabelle couldn't remember what had happened or what she did. All she knew was that she had lost all sense of feeling to where she just shut down upon being beneath her covers. She couldn't recall how her cuts had gotten cleaned, only that they had been and were sore and red by the time she awoke. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't think of what exactly had been 'said' to her. She knew she was upset, or should be, and that, somehow, 'he' had managed to rip out something from her brain. It was a numb sort of coldness that she awoke to. Dull and hazy and without true consciousness. She hadn't even the emotional capacity to react properly when 'he' showed up again.

[LongLiveLife]

Great job. I really like that you infused fiction with fact; it always makes for an interesting read. The scenery is real and palpable -- you don't just say it's cold; you describe it with the condensation of Issabelle's breath. I found it very convincing. The piece flows as a whole, and I like the way the introduction rationalizes Issabelle's voyages in the woods; it doesn't feel arbitrary. However, what does come rather unexplained is the monstereenager's interest in her. Why did he want to 'rip out something' from Issabelle's brain? Perhaps this is the first chapter of a series in which you will later on expand, but for now, it is an area of uncertainty.

Just an inaccuracy I'd like to correct: nerves do not convey information with 'sparks'; they do so with the passive movement of ions; ATP is used only to restore the membrane potential, not to power information transmission. :)

Keep up the good work!

[SilentTrinity]

I don't think any of us saw it coming... maybe some did but I for one didn't.

If only I hadn't acted on impulse...maybe things would've ended differently for the two of us.

To know that there was nothing I could do to stop them from dying, its not only infuriating its...depressing.

If I'm still alive after all this....I think I want nothing to do with the rest of the world. Or I could write a book.

But only if I'm still here....

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1st Chapter:
Perspective of a Boy.

It couldn't have gone better for Jacob Young, laying in his bed, reading a book he had been meaning to for the past week, 1984, a book his english teacher had introduced to him earlier that week. Though the reason why he was in such a good mood wasn't just due to him having time to read. It also included his brother and his sister.

It was one of those nights where at the dinner table, the two siblings, both being twins, and older than Jacob who was fifteen, began to bicker about what they were going to do during the weekend. This was usual dinner conversation as both Jacob's mother and father had gotten use to the fact that these two kept bickering even when their parents tried to intervene. Though this fight got into a big argument about the others habits.

"Why do you always have to do something the very same weekend I do damit?!" Megan yelled slamming her hands on the table and standing up with an angry snarl on her lips. Micheal stood up and threw his hands in the air.
"Why do you always have to take forever in the showers!?"
Jacob calmly ate his mashed potatoes and his steak while taking glances at a book that he was reading underneath the table. He usually paid no attention to his siblings debates, and usually was never the topic of their discussions till that night.

"What makes you think Jacob likes you better?!" Megan yelled at Micheal, taking her fork and pointing it at him. With his name coming up in the discussion, Jacob took a pause from his eating and reading to pay attention to his siblings squabble.
"Obviously he likes me more because we're brothers, and your just his sister!" Micheal began to explain before Megan began cursing and explaining her side. Breathing a deep sigh, Jacob looked at his parents with a look that said, " I'm going up to my room now." With a nod from them, Jacob washed his dishes and went upstairs to read his book in somewhat more peace.

After he left, he could hear his parents yelling at his siblings about arguing in front of him, and how this was the reason that Jacob was so quiet. Ignoring the rest of their conversation, Jacob began to read his book and took pleasure in that his siblings were idiots.

After reading at least a good amount of the book, Jacob sat up in his bed, noticing how quiet it had gotten. The house made no sounds besides the usual creaking and moaning the wind made as it went through the vents. Looking at his side table, Jacob read that it was ten at night. Unusual for everyone in his household to be asleep. Maybe, he thought to himself, his two siblings had seen the error of their ways and made up? This thought brought a silent chuckle to himself, and Jacob got up to head to the bathroom to clean himself up.

As he opened the door, the darkness of the hallway began to creep upon Jacob. His house was always creepy at night, but after awhile one gets use to the fears of the dark. Taking as few steps as he could so as to not awaken anyone.

CReeek.

Jacob froze, his foot still in mid air. That sound came from behind him, something that usually wouldn't bother him if maybe a light had come on, but in the case of being in pitch darkness, Jacob had a small fear that sound didn't come from him putting more pressure on his left foot as he lifted his right. Putting his right foot down he slowly turned to see...nothing. It was still pitch black, and his eyes had yet to adjust to the darkness, but one could make out the doors to the bedroom. Trying to ignore the small fear that was irrational, what with being the paranoia of the dark, Jacob continued his way to the bathroom.

After what seemed like minutes, Jacob had gotten to the bathroom and turned on the lights. The bathroom was small, only able for one person at a time. It had a toilet, a sink with a mirror that also was used for a storage of toothpaste and other necessities teenagers used, and a single shower which was a topic his siblings debated about much. Going over to the mirror, Jacob opened it, found his toothbrush and toothpaste and closed the mirror only to drop both when he saw something in the mirror.

What he seen wasn't his own reflection, but his own reflection and another beings. It was strange, but Jacob was only scared of it for a moment, realizing that his fears of the darkness and the creaking from before we're toying with his mind. He splashed some water on his face, and looked back at the mirror expecting the being he saw for a moment to be gone. Luckily for him, it hadn't left. A deep fear began to grip at Jacob as the figure stood in the hallway, simply standing there.

Jacob clutched his chest trying to control his breathing, and looked over to where the door was, and saw that he wasn't imagining things. There was indeed a figure standing there, who was neither his brother or his sister, as they sometimes got up late at night to do things.

"He....llo..." a faint sound came from the figure, as if it were trying to pick the exact syllable for the word, though the being seemed to be having trouble choosing them. Jacob stopped moving and only stared at the being. If his mind was playing tricks with him, his mind was being a jerk. But Jacob had the feeling that this thing standing only a few feet from him was real.

"Y...es. I am...real" again the creature/being/thing began to speak again, though it was slowly understanding syllables, and now that Jacob had a short moment to think about it, how did it know what he was think...
"Your...wondering how... I knew what you....were thinking...correct?" It breathed out towards Jacob. Again Jacob was shocked.

"Do not be...fearful of my presence" Okay that sentence right there? Didn't help the situation. Jacob stood there though his mind was slowly grasping the situation he was in. The figure was blocking his way, and if he was going to die, by god he was not going to die in the Fu**ing bathroom.

"Who...are you then?" Jacob's voice finally managed to get out, his throat was drying up quickly though. The figure was silent for a few moments and then began speaking more fluently, though slowly at the same time.
"I am a being not from here, yet at the same time here I am, forced to be." Okay, so that didn't really clear anything up besides that this figure here was not making any sense. Jacob had calmed down now that he could rationally think.
"I meant your name." Jacob asked still trying to figure his way out of this situation.
"Words in your language, cannot pronounce it correctly. There is a way to tell but, I do not wish to upset you with it" Oh so now it was thinking of his well-being. Great, at least he would die from a being with a heart.

"What do you mean by that?" Jacob said wondering if he could somehow get by the being and run straight to his room.
"I mean that it would be painful for both of us. Though, it might help both of us, even if you do try to run into your...room?" Again with the whole thought reading thing. What was this thing?
"So, let me ask you this before I...leave. This idea of yours will..."
"Hurt us both yes. Your kind is very repeatative with idea's that have been said once."
"Yeah...well, let me ask one more thing before my mind decides to block this from ever happening."
"I don't think that will happen Jacob" Now it knew his name! Okay, now things were even weirder.

"How did you..."
"I'm afraid that we don't have a choice in the matter." The being seemed almost fearful of something. Jacob took one moment to realize the sentence before his head began to hurt.

Idea's all came crashing through Jacob's head. Idea's, memories, places that seemed like they'd be found in science fiction stories all came crashing into Jacob's head, which probably was about to burst with all this new information. Able to hear a soft thud a few feet away, Jacob's mind began to process all this information as the feeling of being awake began to leave him and his body slumped to the bathroom floor.

[Tenyas]

Ah, heh, I took Biology ages ago so my knowledge on exact energy transfers in the brain is a little rusty. :B We just sort of skimmed over that stuff in class. Glad you like it so far, though, LLL. :3 I like to be realistic at times. They do say to write what you know and then learn weird crud so you can write more.

Anyway, incoming long post of longness.

2nd Chapter, Perspective of a Girl, Predisposition

Issabelle sat there, in silence, staring at the figure in front of her. She wanted to strike him, impale him with some object, perhaps her lamp. She also just wanted him to disappear, cease all existence and just go away and leave her life. She had enough things to deal with. She needed to think of what she was going to make for breakfast, to see what damage had been done to her arms, to dress in a sweater to hide the cuts so her parents wouldn't find out, and to just get on with her life. And here 'he' was. An intrusion that, in minutes, had managed to shake apart pretty much everything she considered to be her reality. Humans don't have eyes like that. They don't have teeth like that. Humans do not grasp the concept of a fourth dimension nor try to shove such knowledge into the head of another, like trying to get a freight train through a plumbing pipe.

She had feelings of hatred, deep anger and aggression towards this stranger, while also fear of him. Just pure, unadulterated, fear of not knowing what was going to happen, or why, or when. Why her? Why her?

And to make it all worse, he just stood there and stared as well. Stared with those swirled red and blue eyes, like spirals from those old hypnotist acts. It was unsettling enough for her to almost fling her pillow at him to just get him to blink. Gah, just as she thought that he blinked. Why? Why, why, why, why. It was enough to make her want to scream. But, she restrained for a couple important reasons. Firstly, it would make her seem insane to be shouting at nothing. Secondly, if any noises were made, then her parents would be awoken and something would happen, for better or for worse. She scarcely remembered this thing telling her that 'nobody else could see him' or something like that. That was impossible. It wasn't as if he were intangible, that thought had been debunked several times the evening prior. And she, a girl with average vision, could see him as clear as day now that there was ample light. In all his unnatural, uncanny, weirdness.

"It's not impossible."

He needed to stop doing that.

"Sorry."

Issabelle sighed, a shaky, weary, sort of sigh that only comes of having been through far too much in a short frame of time. She was still sore. She had been unable to sleep on one side due to the bruising upon it and her right arm had enough scratches and cuts to make it seem as if she'd been mauled by a very agitated woodpecker. Woodpecker not because of the splinters she had had, no. Woodpecker because of how some of the wounds were rather like pockmarks, not large but deep. A feeling welled up in her chest that made her want to cry, but that was shunned and capped off with a sour tone instead. "What do you want?"

He tilted his head, swirled eyes still staring at her figure, and shrugged. It felt wrong for him to look at her like that. Everything was wrong, really. Not that it had been alright before he showed up, no. Issabelle was, again, not sure of what to do. Or what to think.

"Hey. You keep calling me 'he'. Is that a name?" He spoke it clearly, loud enough to make her look nervously at the gap beneath her door for signs of movement. Nobody seemed to hear. "They can't hear me. Not unless you tell me to have them hear me."

The girl looked at her unwelcomed guest, dumbfounded. NO, that wasn't a name, dummy. And... Not unless she told him to? Really? How would that even work? No, no, none of this was possible. Absolutely none of this should be happening. She had done nothing to deserve this. Unless, she had done something wrong a long time ago and this was some sort of belated karmic retribution. Another bitter sigh shook from her lungs.

"You have sort of done something."

"And what's that?" She whispered now, trying to keep quiet and calm. "What the hell did I do to deserve you cornering me and doing some freaky things to my mind?"

It took him a moment to formulate an answer, as if it pained him to try and speak. The expression he wore when talking was similar to that of an English speaker trying to pull off fluent Arabic on the fly. "I can't... Exist here without taking from something else. And even then, I can't be here all the way. I just don't... Understand. You understand though. Or, at least, your mind is built to and your body is. I need to take from those in a way to exist here. Does that make sense?"

"No. You're going to have to say a lot more than just that." It also sounded very disturbing. Mind and Body? Lovely.

The blue and red eyes tilted towards the ground and he paused. For a split second, Issabelle thought she could feel him trying to creep into her mind again before disappearing. He shook his head, "S-sorry. The best way I can explain it is... When you tried to understand my experiences, it h-hurt, right?" He shuddered at the word 'hurt' before continuing, "Because it was something you could not understand?"

Issabelle nodded, absentmindedly picking at her blanket with her knees tucked towards herself. How to get him out...

"I was trying to add to something. Something you don't have. Here, what I have does not exist. That make sense?" His restraint on invading into her thoughts loosened, bits of emotion slipping through. He was eager for her to say yes at least once and didn't skip how she had been thinking of mauling him earlier and how he merely had the purest intentions of survival at hand. "I take from you so we can both be safe."

The girl shuddered and glared, trying to make it clear that she did not enjoy having her own emotions manipulated in such a way. "None of this makes sense. You. The whole fourth dimension thing. Hunted? Attachment? What the hell do you want from me?" Her whispers were now venom-laced hisses.

"I don't want. I need." It was his turn to give a look of dire seriousness. Any quips Issabelle had been formulating in her mind vanished upon the idea that he might actually rip her apart for something.

Upon thinking that he was going to dissect her, he began to laugh. "What are you thinking? That doesn't make sense. That would kill me too." Issabelle still inched away as far as she could. He snickered, "Human, right? I don't know what that really is. Your ideas are... vague? Think of it like this. I don't exist here without your brain. Here, I am missing something I need to exist all the way. I'm weak without being attached. Before I tried to take things from your brain, I couldn't do much of anything. I couldn't be heard, seen, or do anything. I connect with you and then I can do anything I need to in this universe. Sort of."

The girl was still giving a look of contempt, not quite believing any of this. She was still expecting to be used in some horrible fashion. And, from the sound of it, that's what he needed her for. A tool to do whatever alien things he needed to do. "Sort of? What do you mean 'sort of'?"

He sat on the edge of the twin bed, making the springs creak as the mattress attempted to accommodate more weight than it was used to. How could he not be seen if he could do that? Really, it denied physics. "I can't do things that this... Universe can't handle. Things I could do at my 'home'? Not possible here." Issabelle just held her head. So confusing... Just make it stop.

"Okay, okay. So, you can't just... Make yourself 3-D? Isn't it so much easier to take away from something than to try and shove something onto another that it can't carry?"

The teen grimaced, as if such a thing sounded incredibly painful. "That would hurt so much, you have no idea. Can you try to squeeze yourself to be 2-dimensional? No, no, I already went through that half-way to just get here. I didn't know what pain was until I attached with you, but looking back I think I experienced it already. It's... 'horrifying'? I'm not really... 4-D right now, does that sound right? I'm not 3-D either, I just look like that because that's all you can manage understanding."

Issabelle was now scratching at her hair to the point some might be ripped out. Her nails were actually grazing her scalp and multiple things were giving her a headache right now. So confusing. So complicated. So improbable. But, no, guess what? He was right here and nameless and freaky and trying to explain why he needed to leech off of her brain to keep breathing.

"I didn't need to breathe before. I don't think I need to breathe now. I just do it because your mind is saying I should."

The girl looked up with stressed green eyes. "My mind. Is telling you to do this? My mind?"

He nodded. "Yeah. You understand how the physics of this universe works. I can also shapeshift into whatever you want me to." Tch, yeah right. That totally does not violate any laws of matter. Though, that is already sort of iffy due to the existence of black-holes and anti-matter... If he could shapeshift into whatever she wanted him to, then why the hell did he have freaky eyes and teeth?

"My eyes and teeth are like this because you think I'm a... monster. Monster, right?" He was still a monster. A leech. She had a brain leech. And he was just sucking out her thoughts and dumping in confusing emotions like a toxin. Seeing her distress, he thought it would be a good idea to try and pressure more feelings upon her. "Trust me." That's all there was to those thoughts this time. Trust me. Trust what? A figure who only existed here because he used her brain? A figure who had pinned her, cut her, and nearly broke and incapacitated her just with thoughts? It was very difficult to wrap her head around the fact that she just had this nameless stranger sitting on the edge of her bed, it was nigh impossible for her to comprehend that he would 'need' her in some sort of confusing, universal, metaphysical way.

"If I'm nameless, give me a name." He stayed the same distance away the entire time, but that didn't keep the girl from feeling as if he were trying to inch closer. She didn't really want to deal with this anymore. Her stomach growled and she tried to look away but she could still feel him there.

She couldn't just walk away from this, could she?

"No, you can't."

God... Fine, fine. She was going to think of something then. "You want a name?"

"Yes. If that makes things easier for you, then I am fine with a name. You have one, right? You haven't told me it." Yeah, like he totally hadn't seen it when he did that freaky mental manipulation manifesto. "I haven't." Dammit. He needs to stop doing that. "Sorry."

"My name is Issabelle. You really want me to name you? I'll just call you something dreadful, you know. And you'll be stuck with it forever because that's how names work here." That was a bluff, really, but he shouldn't know what that is. She tried to think of shameful names for the stranger. Fluffy? Perhaps something along the lines of a curse word... Yeah, he wouldn't know what that is either, would he?

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't go naming me after excretions." Darnit, the mind reading thing, yeah. "Why don't you just call me... Christopher? That flashed through your mind as a name for a second."

"H... How did you see that?" No, no, that was a special name. Okay, so, for a split second she had been thinking about that but, no.

"Your ideas aren't hard to see. They're very vague though. Christopher is a 'special' name to you, so if it helps you trust me more, I'm going to borrow it." He folded his arms, trying to imitate human behavior. "So, I'm Christopher now, not 'he', right?"

Issabelle felt mentally ill now. So, anything she thought he could see? Lovely, lovely, frickin' lovely. She needed to eat something, she was a bit faint. He had to take that name, just had to take that one. No, he couldn't have gone with something like Jonathan or Jacob or some other bull crud like that. "Just... Sit there. I need to go and think for a bit." Her stomach growled once more and she inwardly cursed her inability to control such bodily functions. She had no reason to be polite to him. Not after how many times he had invaded-

"Sorry."

And still invaded her privacy.

"I don't know what that is."

Issabelle felt like she was going to slap him if he did that one more time. Just one more time and she would hit him so hard he might go flying back to his own stupid dimension. She grumbled, pushed herself off the bed with a degree of uncomfortable stiffness in her arms, and stumbled with the aims of getting out of the room and away from this 'Christopher' wannabe.

She was about to leave out the door when she remembered what she had woken up thinking about. She had to change into something different than what she was wearing lest her parents figure out she went somewhere. Normally, she was good about the condition of her clothes, but being restrained and tossed against your will has a tendency to ruin some things. Her pants had grass stains and her arms were a pinpricked mess. Yeah, that had totally happened in the ten minutes she had been awake this morning. Totally.

It wasn't like she could dress in front of this stupid stranger either. She had more modesty than that, to undress in front of a freak, even if he was 'invisible'. And he better be biting his tongue against saying he's now 'Christopher' because, God help her, she will smack him for it. Perhaps if she just asked him to leave he would do it. He had stated that her mind controlled his reality to a degree, perhaps if she could take advantage of that... Green eyes swiveled around only to meet red and blue. "Jesus!" She jumped and nearly slammed into the door in her surprise. Not even two seconds after that, she slapped him. Yep, this girl does not go back on her word. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

He clutched his face and hissed before stuttering out, "I was j-just fol-following you, jerkwad."

"I'm the jerkwad? Me? Really?" She looked back at the door and listened for footsteps. Hearing none, she continued, "Last I checked, I wasn't the space leech who came out of nowhere and started hissing dimensional stuff while saying 'I'm not going to bite you'."

"Well, I didn't! And I'm still not. Unless." He grinned with shark teeth. "You want me to?"

Wh... How dare he even insinuate that... GRGH. "Shut up!" Issabelle berated him further, pushing him back until he was against her closet. He didn't seem to wish to fight back at all now and simply allowed her to move him. "I need to change, creep."

"Change?" He paused, thinking. "Chaaannngee." He rolled the word as if it were exotic, seemingly taking joy in the girl's annoyance. "Oh?" He could still read her thoughts and smiled, which only resulted in Issabelle ripping open her closet door and shoving him in. The last thing she needed was some inter-dimensional freak thinking of her naked.

"Just stay in there, frickin' pervert."

"I can still hear your thoughts."

"Well, stop it." She marched away from the door and to her dresser.

"I can't." He was still trying to talk.

"And why the hell not?" Issabelle was now sifting through her clothes, trying to find where she'd put her sweaters. She now suddenly had the urge to burn all of her red and blue shirts.

He couldn't shut up. "Because, then I wouldn't be connected anymore."

"Good." Ah, found one. It just had to be her dingy black and white one though, didn't it?

"If I disconnect, you'll still have the imprint and the... Hunters? Hunters might find you." She couldn't hear him shuffling around in there, so he must have just been leaning against the back wall or something jerkish like that.

And like she was going to believe there were 'hunters' out to get her. Yeah. Tch, she could believe that she'd nearly been kidnapped last night. She could believe that she was delusional, probably taking some schizo tendencies from her mother. She could believe that she was now arguing with herself. But, she couldn't believe that she had a sort-of-invisible-but-not-really alien in her company trying to convince her that they had some sort of mental umbilical cord that would kill them both in the end if it was severed, be it him dieing instantly due to universal collapse or something like that and her at the hands of some, ooh, 'hunters' from another dimension. No, that was just unreasonable.

Right after she buttoned her pants, there was a knock at her bedroom door, shaking the wooden panel in its frame and making the knob clatter.

Sh!t.

Another knock and the gruff voice of her father rang out, a whole octave too loud for the morning, "Issabelle! Get your a** in the kitchen, it's dirty as hell." He really had a way with words. Such a tender father. Yeah. Totally.

"That's not very nice. Wait... What's an a**?"

Shut up! "Yes sir." It was incredibly difficult to keep her tone normal while 'Christopher' was trying to dig into her head to figure out what was going on. Couldn't he just wait for like ten seconds? Really! She didn't need any of this!

She started for the door only for her closet to open, red and blue eyes finding her immediately as if he'd known her exact placement the entire time. "Well? What is it?"

Issabelle huffed in exasperation, looking at the door and then glaring at 'Christopher'. In her anger, she actually mentally went over the entire structure of the human body, that of birds, and of fish as it was known to her before marching out the door, her last thought being something along the lines of, "Stay the frick here, jerkwad."

All she got in reply was a surprised little, "Oh."

The girl's father was a rather large man. He was a mix of stockiness with muscle, always had some stubble and a mustache that constantly threatened to spout upon his visage. His face was oily with the taint that could only come from too many nights out late, eyes dark and puffy from too many shots in too quick succession. He was most always hungover, except for those nights where he had successfully managed to give himself alchohol poisoning and had to be sent to the hospital, resulting in a few days where he was required to remain sober.

Issabelle's family depended entirely upon the state's medical welfare, for both her father's occasional stomach-pump treatments and her mother's medication to quell her schizophrenia. Issabelle, too, had once depended on it to supply depression medication, but that was behind her now. She found an alternate pill in the form of books, although there were still marks left from those days.

Currently, the man had slumped himself into the heavily worn sofa in the living room, a few empty bottles at the side of the seat and half-stuck in cushions. Issabelle had never liked the stench on that couch. It was like a bad mix of bile, tainted food, and old piss. This made any normal 'dirty' spot in her school smell like lysol heaven.

She trumped over to the kitchen. Normally, in the evenings and when things were quiet, she would take it upon herself to clean up any mess there was and scrub off the dishes. Her mother was a bit OCD, however, and oft went into conniptions whenever Issabelle didn't do it properly in the right order of actions, ending with the woman biting her nails and clattering things about haphazerdly. The girl loved her mother, she really did, but she felt like the parent. She was the one cleaning after them like they were infants, tottering and stumbling and puking.

Today, there were three broken, rather cheap and white, plates laying upon the floor. Even after picking up all she could see, Issabelle still managed to get a hefty cut upon her foot from one small sliver that had hidden from view within the grouting of the tiles. Not only that, but someone had spilled some honey colored alcohol on the mottled white counters. It wasn't as if another stain would make a difference, really. It was still an annoying scent to have everywhere though. That and smoke.

Minor curses were uttered, kept to a minimum as the snores of her father drifted from the living room. He was hungover, that was for certain, and her mother was likely passed out in their bedroom, suffering from a crash. She didn't exercise her addiction as often, but when she did there was always an argument. The woman would go from being timid, easily moved around, and contained to a wailing, sobbing, mess that would randomly spark into heated nonsense.

Issabelle stopped the bleeding with one of her hands while the other reached for some napkins. She hated how beaten up she was getting. Sure, she'd had worse happen before, some self inflicted, but this was ridiculous. After cleaning up the wound, she threw away the bloodied papers and started searching through drawers. She remembered them having bandages somewhere. Her mother used the larger ones for hiding small stashes, the girl knew this. So, they must be within reach.

After finally finding one embedded with the utensils, the girl covered up the gash and hobbled out of the kitchen, taking care to be silent the whole time. If there was anything worse than her father in a drunken rage, it was him in a hungover one.

She had so much to deal with.

"Did you get hurt?"

So much.

"Izzy? I felt that. I really did. What did you do?"

Nothing to worry about, silly alien. What he was listening to were the apathetic thoughts of a teenager who had long ago given up the idea that she should cry over a cut and not having a parent to kiss it better. This was a teenager who had a mother who would tell her on one of her crashes how she had dreamed of having a son instead of a daughter and how that would of made her father so much more happier, likely even stopped his alchohol addiction. This was a teenager who had a father who would get drunk on a bi-daily basis, slur sexist things at her, and threaten to beat her if she didn't do things 'correctly'. Yes, nothing to worry about, really. She hadn't died yet.

"Your thoughts are confusing."

Well, he should stop trying to read them then. Nobody in this household deserved the name Christopher. Christopher had been special. Christopher would have been the 'good' child. He would have been able to convince his mother to not harm herself the way she did. He would have distracted his father from his crutch and convinced him to live sober. Christopher would have gotten good grades in school and not need to repeat senior year with the way his credits would have been. Christopher would have never hurt himself, gone through therapy, and been nearly taken by Child Protection Services. No, Christopher was a special name that only belonged to one person. It should have been Issabelle. Not an alien. Not some inter-dimensional freak who merely acted like some parasite upon her brain. Issabelle should have been Christopher, not a wimp stuck in a stupid situation like this. Not a feeble, easily bruised, girl who could never stand up to her sexist father and useless mother.

"I'm just... Going to stop trying to figure out what you're thinking. Come here, okay?"

She didn't really have much choice. If she left the house, she risked ticking someone off when they woke up or allowing her parents to get into an aftershock bout. That was how this worked, really. Issabelle was the sanity median. And now she might just go insane because crazy sh!t was happening to her. No, no, the sh!t she was exposed to on a daily basis was natural sh!t. This was pure, concentrated, crud.

The girl returned to her bedroom, her left foot tender. Glass slices always hurt the worst. Metal wasn't quite so bad, it would at least be numb for a while. But, it also stung quite a bit once the shock went away. On the other hand, glass could cut cleaner while not rusting. Still. Ow.

She turned the handle and entered, treading carefully on the carpet. She didn't know what to expect anymore. Broken glass is fine, yeah. Drunk dad, yeah. Sore arms and a headache, sure, she could tolerate that. But this... She was just confused out of her mind with this.

She shut the door and whispered, rather irritated, "What do you want now?"

"Am I anatomically correct?"

"... What?" Issabelle glanced up and had just barely spotted skin before slamming her eyes shut. "What the hell are you doing?!" Great! Just what she needed, an alien parasite that was trying to figure out if he could copy human junk properly!

"You showed me what a human should look like through and through and I wanted to make sure I got it right. You're not comfortable with this, are you?"

"Like hell I am. Just... Get dressed again or something, Jesus Christ. What the hell, feck, I don't even-jeez." Issabelle tried her best to keep herself shut tight. No, her eyes weren't a problem at all. That was easily dealt with, two hands cupped firmly over her lids. No, what the issue was her thoughts. The damn things were running off from what she wanted to do, which was anything but visualize what this 'Christopher' imposter would have imagined to be correct anatomy.

"You can look now. I think."

The girl groaned. He really could word things better. Oh so much better. Green eyes looked out with deep anger towards the source of her vexation. Stupid freak. "You still haven't told me why you chose me out of, like, six billion people. Can't you just go suck on someone else's brain? Like some nerd who would be happy to have you? There are plenty out there who wouldn't say no to an alien buddy who could turn into 'anything' they 'wanted'."

'Christopher' was back in the hoodie and pants get-up, emphasis on the pants, only now he had an extra accessory. Those were her headphones about his neck, yes they were. He brushed aside her seething vibes of bad thoughts and shook his head, saying, "No, it's not that simple."

"It's never that simple, is it?" The girl groaned in distaste and stomped over to her bed, flopping over onto the covers and wincing as her cuts all burned from the contact. Her sweater didn't help anything, itchy fabric rubbing raw any scabs that were trying to form.

"I'm sorry."

"Just shut up with the sorries. You can't possibly know what it means."

"Well, maybe if you decided to be more open about this, I would."

Issabelle sat up and stared, only to have red and blue stare right back. She hadn't expected a curt tone like that at all. It was more like the sort of tone she'd been wanting to use. Uncanny. "What, just open up my mouth and go 'ah' so you can rip out my brain? Turn me into a puppet-zombie?"

"Even if I wanted to, that would hurt me too much by now."

"Really?"

"I'm not lying, whatever that is. Falsities? Well, I'm not saying lies. You want me to explain? Be fecking patient." He snapped, a slight growl arising that silenced Issabelle's developing retort. Instead, the girl backed away, keeping a wary eye on 'Christopher'. He calmed himself down and shivered, as if ice-water had been dumped on him. "Sorry. I guess I need to talk like you for you to listen. Are you listening?"

Issabelle hesitantly nodded, unsure of what would happen if she even tried to ignore him.

"Good." He looked at her bedroom window with more than a healthy dose of worry tinted to those eyes. "If you get hurt, I am hurt as well. It just isn't as noticable, which is why I loosened up when you tried to run away and I slammed you into a... tree? Yes, a tree. Sorry. You have no idea what sort of trouble we're in. Yes, 'we'. Don't question it. Just listen. There are other things like me. Lots more. More than what your language even has words for. They're 'leaking' into this dimension. Don't ask me why, I don't know. It was painful though and I don't think we're all here on purpose. I do know one thing."

The girl just clutched herself, too afraid to voice her answer. He would hear it all the same. What?

"I'm hungry. We're all out to get eachother. I think it's just me who thinks like this but they seem like what you'd call food to me. And we're all attracted to eachother. I can-" He looked out the window again and then darted his attention back. "I can feel them. Not as much as I feel you, no. But they're there. Everywhere. And we need humans. I can't just attach to a 'tree'. It isn't attached to my dimension in any way. You are going to die without me because there are other things like me who would want to kill you while you are attached to me. And I can't break the bond."

"Why the hell not?" Issabelle's knuckles were white from how tightly she was squeezing her arms. "Why the hell can't you just leave me alone?"

"Because, we can fit together. Your mind feels a bit like mine. I'm confused too. I don't know much either. I'm not sure what I'm doing. I just know that it's sort of working and I'm able to think more now that I am attached." Those shark teeth turned into something semblant of a smile. A melancholy one at that, surprising for an alien who didn't understand much. "I nearly died when I tried to share everything with you. I thought it would work. So you can't stay mad at me. Your mind is dangerous to me too, but I keep trying to get in anyway. Least you could do is accept I can't explain mine all the way for fear of killing you."

Some words of reassurance those were. A rumble bubbled from Issabelle's stomach and she felt like she could kick herself. She hadn't even gotten breakfast. Today was just going to be sh!t wasn't it? Okay, fine. She got it now. There was no way out of this at all. God, she needed to keep herself stable somehow. If only it were possible to hug yourself and feel better while doing it. And, no, she wasn't going to allow this alien to do it for her. The last thing she needed was physical contact with him again.

'Christopher' was now completely intent on looking out the window.

Outside, the skies were gray, a cover of clouds drifting over and bringing with them the scent of damp dirt. It was a smell Issabelle was used to, but it came more pungently this time, giving her reason to believe that her window hadn't been shut properly the evening prior. Embittered with all the experiences she'd already had that morning and last night, Issabelle made to get up and check for a draft. Just as she was about to adjust the locks on the aged wooden frame, 'Christopher' ripped her away from it and backed her up until she was standing a good ten paces away, nearly against the back wall of her room. Seething with a curt brew of confusion and resentment, Issabelle practically snarled at the other teen, "What was that for?!"

'Christopher' continued to focus upon the skies, swirling eyes never blinking. He didn't even move while Issabelle forced him to relinquish his grasp on her shoulders, just kept listening for a noise that certainly wasn't there. At least, for the girl to hear.

Issabelle looked at the gradually darkening skies and scoffed. It was just a rainstorm. Did he not know what that was? She wouldn't be surprised if he didn't. It was a conglomeration of condensated water vapor that was packed tightly until static formed between the clouds. If the static got too great, a thunderstorm would form as the clouds gathered and compacted, bolts of energy striking down upon whatever nearest object attracted them most via negative energy versus positive. All the while drops of H2O would fall down upon whatever was beneath the blanket of earthly cover as rain. It was certainly simpler than any fourth-dimension mumbo jumbo 'Christopher' tried to explain.

Still, none of that seemed to calm him as a bright bolt of lightning flashed across the sky, instead making him twitch like some fighter awaiting a preemptive strike. His sharp-toothed mouth curled into a frown and he started growling like some Halloween beast. Issabelle looked from him and back to the window, which was now being pattered by the rain. What? Was he aquaphobic? Or perhaps it was the lightning that was setting him off. Two more bolts flashed in the span of eight seconds. The storm must be right above them. Interesting but not too uncommon around here. It wasn't abnormal to have one last storm before spring melted into summer.

"This isn't a 'normal' storm."

Issabelle looked at him skeptically. Not a normal storm? Really? There was wind and water and clouds and everything. How was it not a normal storm? More lightning flashed.

"There's something missing. The storm you're thinking of has feeling and light and matter in it. And sound. There's no sound, is there?"

Well, of course there was sound, dummy. The rain was making a loud tapping thrum against her window and the roof of her home. And each time a lightning bolt flew-...

There was no thunder.

There had been no thunder this entire time.

[KingdomKey]

I like this story it's very interesting and different XD i hope there's more chapters!