Eighteeenth PSI

[a_gentle_boy]

((I apologize in advance for being a drama whore.  Indulge me.  I am sorry.))

[The inhalation of Luke's hallucinatory gas has left Lucas in a terrible state. This is what he sees. The island of Tanetane . . . The island of nightmares and delusions.  And though he knows that the images he sees must be false, he cannot help but succumb to his dark fears nonetheless.  In fact . . . his mental delusions are so strong that anyone who comes near him may, perhaps, catch a momentary glimpse of his nightmares.  Is this due to the gas lingering around his body or is this because of what is buried deep within his psychic mind?]

[Scenario 1]
Lucas has opened your mailbox and is rifling through the letters.  The expression on his face is one of tormented anguish.  Whispers can be heard if he is approached closely, though they do not appear to be made in his voice.  "The boy named Lucas . . . The boy named Lucas . . . The boy named Lucas . . . . . . . . . . . . . . "    There is a terrifying scream.  It is not his.

[Scenario 2]
Lucas is shivering and shuddering as he takes his bath.  His bath appears to be a dirty puddle of mud in the park.  Or a dirty pool of water on the side of the street.  Or a septic tank.  Or a poison swamp.  A pool of knives.  A pool of nothing.  Nothing after nothing after nothing after nothing.

[Scenario 3]
He's running towards you with a baseball bat.  "Run!"  His voice is harsh as he engages the massive smiling face beaming balefully from midair.  Will you fight with him?  Will you help him?  He needs to get home before supper.  Hinawa is coming home for supper.  When is Hinawa coming home?  Come home, Hinawa.  Come home.

[Scenario 4]
He's running towards you with a baseball bat.  " . . . Get away!"  He swings at you.  He wants to kill you.  Let him kill you.  You should die.

[Scenario 5]
Lucas is huddled, knees to his chest, on the ground in the middle of the street.  All of his things are spread out around him as he holds his hands over his ears and rocks back and forth.  Approaching him, you may see a shadowy image and hear a torrent of harsh, angry, deriding words.  Why are you coming near him?  What are you doing?  What did you do to him?  Huh? . . . . . . . . I did it to him? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . No.  Don't go near him.  Don't go near him.  You did it.  Don't go near her. Don't go near her.   Don't go near her. Don't go near her. Lucas did it.  Lucas did it.  Lucas did it.  Lucas did it.

[Scenario Q]
You could have saved me.
Why didn't you save me?
Switch places with me.
I want
I want to be
I want to be alive, Lucas. 
You're more . . .
You're more . . .
You're more . . . . . . . .   
It's all your fault.  It's your fault.  It's your fault.  I hate you.  You don't deserve it.  No one loves you.  Everyone's waiting for you.  Everyone's waiting to throw rocks at you, spit on you, and make your life hell.  Everyone hates you.  Everyone hates you.  I hate you.
Switch with me
Switch with me
Die
I want to be
you
I will be

you

Comments

4, because I apparently want to cry. ...also 5 if you can combo 'em ;u;

[windmill.livejournal.com]

[He takes the bat to the chest, because he hadn't expected Lucas to hit him when he'd run up to him. Netherlands staggers back a little, swearing beneath his breath, the wind knocked out of him.]

Shit- Lucas- the fu- hell?

I will do my best!

[a-gentle-boy.livejournal.com]

Get away from them. If you're my nightmare, then fight me on my own!

[Who is 'them'? Lucas doesn't elaborate. He comes i nagain with another swing, this one aimed at the Netherland's head.]

[windmill.livejournal.com]

[He immediately knows something is wrong.

As his hands come up to block the blow, taking it against his forearms, he staggers forward towards Lucas, trying to grab the bat.] Lucas! Stop!

[a-gentle-boy.livejournal.com]

I've fought you off before . . . ! Nothing you say . . . I won't listen to any of it!

[Lucas struggles, thrashing and kicking even if his bat is held tightly.]

[windmill.livejournal.com]

[He hisses, trying to yank the bat away.] Wake th'hell up, Lucas! [What could it be? Grady? The Milkman?

...The Milkman. It must be...?]

[a-gentle-boy.livejournal.com]

[Lucas seems to be listening to something else entirely.]

No. No. She . . She's not coming back. And it's not because of anything I did or you did or . . . anyone. Go away!

[Wham! Lucas is punching now. And if you ever doubted him when he said he could hold his own, his strength may be proof otherwise.]

[windmill.livejournal.com]

[He's shocked by the force of the blow, taking it in the side- but as soon as that happens he tries to grab at the boy again.] I won't leave- just- listen-

[a-gentle-boy.livejournal.com]

I won't listen I won't listen I won't listen

[The more they struggle, the more frantic his efforts become, and the more rapid his blows come. Luckily for the Netherlands, they come with far less focus as well. His blows often are angled poorly or else he misses entirely or else he's simply kicking at random.

The Netherlands will manage to get a good hold on him sooner or later.]

[windmill.livejournal.com]

[When he does manage to grab a hold of Lucas, he thinks that the kid must've fractured a rib or two, but he takes him by the arms eventually.]

Enough.

[a-gentle-boy.livejournal.com]

. . . S-Stop . . . Stop it . . . !

[He turns up towards the Netherland's face, a mingled expression of fear and anger and sorrow written plainly across his features. He breathes.

. . . In that moment, the Netherlands may understand why Lucas is behaving the way he is. If he catches a whiff of the gas, the town transforms into a nightmarish landscape of pinks and purples and crimsons, distorted trees and structures, monstrous creatures roaming around with two heads or three or none. He may hear the torrent of words coming from behind him. If he turns, he will see the image of a man about his height in the outfit of a cowboy -- the words that he speaks are low, harsh, and cruel.]

ink I ever loved you? It's your fault the both of them are gone and you have the gall to think I didn't care enough for you little brat little useless nothing you're nothing. Your brother was worth three of you. Always scared. Always a coward. It's your fault. You did it. You deserve everything that yo

[windmill.livejournal.com]

[It's rather painful to see Lucas like this, and he's trying to come up with something to say and to catch his breath when suddenly the landscape changes.

And the thing is, the Netherlands is no stranger to hallucinations, no stranger to smoke-tinged dreams of what isn't and what could be. He knows what this can't possibly be real, and he simply continues to hold onto Lucas's arms- but the grip isn't restraining any more. It's gentler. Comforting.

As much as he tries to block out the words of the phantom, he hears them anyway and feels compelled to strike the cruel thing, but he knows it can't be real. All he does is listen.]

[a-gentle-boy.livejournal.com]

[His efforts become feebler the longer he is held. Without his anger, without his drive to hurt the thing that was speaking such terrible truths, Lucas has no other means of escape from his nightmares but to close off his eyes and ears. He will not listen to this anymore. He has suffered through it once before. Killing the monster made it stop. Killing the monster always made it stop.

. . . He doesn't know why, this time, the monster is embracing him. He can't understand it. But he can't bring himself to question it, either, thinking that, perhaps, he ought to chance being eaten. Pain would release him from his delusions. So he clamps his hands firmly over his ears, and sinks forward into the strangely comforting enemy he had just been fighting.

The harsh diatribe continues, but Lucas begins to calm.]

[windmill.livejournal.com]

[He releases Lucas's arms and instead draws him close, his arms wrapping around him in a tight embrace, one hand cradling his head.

His eyes, though, remain locked upon the delusions that surround them, as if forcing himself to stare them down, despite the fact that they appear terrifyingly real.

He begins to mutter quietly.]

It's going to be okay, Lucas. It's going to go away.

[a-gentle-boy.livejournal.com]

[If the Netherlands hadn't supported him upright, Lucas would have sunk to his knees. As it is, he is sagging limply in the grip of the man now. Perhaps as can be expected, his body is extremely light.

He doesn't respond to the muttering at first, but does so after a few repetitions.]

. . . It won't go away . . .

Not until I stop believing it . . .

[windmill.livejournal.com]

[That's true, he thinks; it's so true, isn't it?

Personal demons are not so easily escapable, because they are precisely that: personal. Demons within the head, curling their claws into your mind, baring their teeth and spitting their curses: You won't ever forget what happened. Lingering feelings of guilt, of regret; all of that built-up ugliness eventually becomes parasitic...

It pains him to hear Lucas say it, but Netherlands knows. He knows.]

...I'll help you. You know I will.

[a-gentle-boy.livejournal.com]

[ . . . By this point, he has regained his faculties enough to understand that somehow or other, the Netherlands has entered his dreamworld and is sharing his nightmare with him. He accepts this. He has no more energy to wonder things anymore. He glances up and meets his friend's gaze with a weary expression.]

But how can you help me . . . when it's true?

[windmill.livejournal.com]

Waarheid doet pijn. Truth hurts. [He places a hand upon Lucas's head.]

Because I fight these things, too.

[a-gentle-boy.livejournal.com]

R-Really . . . ? But . . . I don't understand. What do you do?

[windmill.livejournal.com]

...What I do doesn't always work. [Well, no. It never works.] But you're stronger than I am, Lucas.

[a-gentle-boy.livejournal.com]

That's . . . That's not true. If I were strong, I wouldn't be . . . you wouldn't have to do this.

Um. So what do you think I should do . . . ?

[windmill.livejournal.com]

You have to accept it.

[a-gentle-boy.livejournal.com]

[His grip on the Netherlands unconsciously tightens at those words. Was it something he's known he's always known he had to do? It seems that way . . . But being told to do so . . . makes it more real. His fists are white. Behind the Netherlands, the words begin to increase in volume again.]

I . . . I can't. I can't. It's my fault . . . ! Isn't it enough that I know that?

[windmill.livejournal.com]

[He attempts to block out the phantom voices.]

...Growing up's about taking responsibility for things, Lucas. And even when you do, it doesn't always go away.

But if you want to get stronger, y'have to accept it for what it is.

[a-gentle-boy.livejournal.com]

Responsibility . . . ? I . . . know, Mr. Netherlands. I know. Everything I did is because I had to take responsibility . . . I already have . . .

[windmill.livejournal.com]

But your heart's not letting it go.