Chapter 11 - Illusions of Choice

The violent coughing forces me from my rest.

I stare at my life’s essence spattered across the concrete.

It’s a lot more than yesterday.

The aches are sharper now, as if my insides have been torn asunder, making each breath a struggle.

I’m faced with three choices forced upon me, each shaped by others' wills.

Should I call my boss’s killer, accept that I must possess someone and be chased by monsters, or run and hope for safety?

All horrible choices, and given my current disposition, the third option feels more impossible to survive than the other two.

A savage coughing fit confirms it.

Do I even still have hope at this point?

The first option. If I am honest with myself, I likely will die an even more horrible way.

Leaving possession.

There has to be another way?

A way I HAVE A SAY IN!

A flicker of rage flashes over me. It’s an awful feeling that I find tempting to embrace, though as fast as it comes, it goes.

Come on, Koan. Be less pathetic and just think.

My mind races, stopping on a single image that ignites a radical idea.

The door.

Save Caelan from that dreadful hospital.

Then Caelan will survive, be able to help Evander, and the whole possession business will end.

This new possibility…

My choice!

…churns in my mind.

It wouldn’t be easy. He’s guarded by sinister doctors and the unforgettable man with brown eyes. Who knows where that cop or the suited man is?

I stare at my last medication, knowing it could temporarily dull the relentless pain.

I need my mind to be as clear as possible to pull this off.

My body is already suffering so much. The prospect of withdrawal feels almost trivial compared to the pain.

With renewed conviction, I empty the pills into the canal and stand resolute.

If I don’t make it out of this…

I lean into my determination.

Then at least I chose my fate, not one puppeted for me.

I cough up another section of my insides.

Ahh, I wish I had water.

Though tempting for a moment, I decide I am not desperate enough to take a sip of the canal water.

Determined not to hesitate, I move out before my mind makes an excuse.

I climb out of my night’s accommodation and back onto the street, heading towards the hospital.

***

As I approach the hospital, I see two people pointing at me in hushed tones, evidently staring at my shirt.

I take stock of myself in a closed shop window, now conscious of how I look.

Messy clothes, smeared in blood, drape my gaunt frame.

Shit, I need a disguise.

But where in the world would I find that?

I round a corner, and a thought occurs to me. The boss and I clean our store uniforms at a local laundromat two streets from here.

A low laugh escapes me.

Why can’t I always be this switched on?

My internal groans of discomfort seem to agree with me.

***

I arrive at the laundromat. I can hear the steady mechanical thrums leaking through fogged glass and flickering fluorescent light. I don’t hesitate. I push inside and let the humidity swallow me, thick and damp, with the smell of floral detergent wafting.

For a moment, the cold dampness of my home and the shop seeps in, freezing me.

I slap myself.

Focus!

Rows of machines churn away, drums spinning with indifferent rhythm.

No staff. No customers. Perfect.

I glance at the cameras that observe the place, but compared to everything that has happened and the potential of being done for murder, a little thievery is the last of my concern right now.

Thank goodness people are trusting enough to clean their stuff publicly.

Sorry for breaking that trust, everyone.

I move fast, scanning with purpose.

A hoodie sits abandoned on a folding table, and I take it without a second thought, taking off my shirt and throwing it over me. Pair of still-wet but clean pants off a line next, then my eyes catch a high-vis vest, tangled inside a dryer at the end of its cycle.

Perfect.

To top it off, I spy a hard hat sitting on top of a dryer, like it’s waiting for me.

I take it, completing my new look.

My hands are the only problem now, so I hit the deep sinks for soaking, scrubbing quickly and efficiently. The blood washes away, along with the last of my reservations.

I can do this.

I leave my clothes behind. After today, that piece of evidence is the last of my worries.

As I leave, I take a look at myself in a machine's reflection.

It’s the most lively I have looked in a fortnight, maybe even the last few years if I am being honest.

There is a gleam of determination in my eyes. I could say I am almost proud.

Two golden eyes appear behind me, along with the tall grey figure of the Entity.

I turn to face it. It doesn’t move towards me to attack me as it had in the past or flutter its wings blocking my path, but it does seem to gesture that what I plan to do, I shouldn’t.

With as much courage as I can summon, though something about the eyes and that static coming from its void of a mouth still greatly disturbs me, sending shivers through my body on a reflex, I declare myself.

“Whatever your purpose, Entity, I will not sit by idly and just accept the fate you have given me.

I am saving Caelan, whether you approve or not and end this nightmare I have been put through.”

At that, it stands completely quiet.

I feel chuffed at the fact I made it, lost for words, or whatever that dreadful noise it makes is.

I note that its body is different to the last time I saw it. Its arm is cracked and splintered, sewn together by golden veins just like the two fingers I saw in the past.

It seems to have its own illness, which is not of my concern.

“I am going now.”

I leave.

It doesn’t seem to follow, but given the way it moves, it could be ahead of me for all I know.

***

It’s mid-afternoon by the time I reach the hospital. The comings and goings in the foyer are incredibly busy with families, patients, and workers.

Perfect for me to enter unaware.

I move straight towards the fire stairs.

No one questions me, but the entity standing before the door, fluttering its wings in warning.

Freaky bastard.

It’s already inflicted its pain and fear on me.

“Leave me.”

It disappears.

I didn't know where this confidence was coming from, but it feels right.

I enter the stairwell.

Bodies are strewn across the stairs in a visceral display.

But I refuse it, as it becomes empty of any horror my mind attempts to provide.

Thankfully, it is also empty of anyone who works in the hospital.

A cough convulses through my body, doubling me over. Again, blood sullies cement. This time with larger lumps of congealed blood and chunks of something I don’t even want to know.

Seems my blood ends up tainting the stairwell instead.

I move on. The body protests more with each flight of stairs.

The entity tries again to block me, but I move straight at it, expecting it to sear my flesh. This time, I simply fade through it, a soft warmth enveloping me as I shut my eyes. But when I turn around, it just stands, staring at me.

Then it disappears.

Thank goodness.

I finally reach my destination. The floor that houses my ticket out of this whole mess.

It’s busy.

There is no obvious way for me to enter a patient's room without being immediately questioned and potentially dragged out, or worse.

I need a distraction, but nothing short of an evacuation would clear out this many doctors and patients.

An evacuation.

I look at the roof, noting the fire alarms.

There must be an emergency button to declare a fire around here.

Two nurses come towards me, chuckling as they seem excited to be on their break.

I move back into the stairwell and make a gamble that they will go down, before heading up half a flight of stairs out of sight.

They enter, talking about the local murder that happened yesterday at a shop one of them frequented.

My heart sinks. All my bravado, for a moment, crumples as I think of Aldabert.

Thankfully, they head downstairs out of earshot.

My body fights me now. My resolve is cracking.

No! You have to do this.

Anger swells up, holding me in its embrace, momentarily pushing aside all other emotions.

I allow it, for I cannot be deterred.

I enter the hallway once more, and it doesn’t take long to find an emergency alarm button, cased in its thin glass with a small hammer to break it.

Everyone is preoccupied, paying little attention to a worker who could be here for family or repairs.

I break the glass with the hammer, muffling the sound with my jumper as I push up against it and pull the lever.

That small break feels satisfying, making me want to break more, but now is not the time.

The alarm wails, startling everyone and stirring them into action.

I move with purpose, as if preparing to evacuate. As the nurses and doctors begin guiding people out. People rush past me towards the fire stairs. Some go for the elevators; one even starts a fight with a nurse who is moving a wheelchair-bound patient into it to get in before them.

Chaos ensues. Perfect. A part of me relishes it.

Another part finds that thought sickening.

I reach the room beside the one I was placed in. I can feel the incredible urge to pull the door open again, and this time, I oblige it, praying no one but Caelan is on the other side. Though I almost begged for a fight.

Calm down, stay focused.

Thankfully, as I enter the room, no one is there.

I am left in a dimly lit room, lit by a single lamp at the bed head.

How corrupt is this place to leave the door open to someone so evidently brutalised?

The thought sickens me as I take my first look at Caelan.

Justifying Caelan’s fate must have taken a lot of medical explaining. Even after everything, looking at him, I feel blessed compared to him.

The air in the room is stale and sour, antiseptic barely masking the deeper rot beneath. The smells of uncleaned fabric, unmoving skin, and the faint sweetness of something left too long settle together. It is almost viscous, heavy and inescapable, clinging to the nostrils and throat as I breathe.

Caelan lies swallowed by the bed, what remains of him held in place by a branch web of wires, attached to machines that do all the work his body can no longer manage. The sheet rises and falls unevenly, offering a shallow imitation of breathing.

One beeps away. An inkling of rage stirs at the sound.

The side of his face is wrong in a way I expected from my time in his perspective. Where his eye should be, there is only a hollowed, sunken cavity, covered but not hidden, the absence more noticeable than anything that could have been put to replace it.

His mouth hangs slightly open. There are no teeth behind it, only a completely dark space, insinuating that even his tongue is likely missing.

Even at rest, there’s an unnatural stillness to him, as if he is already gone and the machines are providing a false sense of life as his replacement.

The sheet lies flatter along one side of the bed, flat where a leg should be beneath it; it’s absent, terrifying.

How can anyone get away with this?

The rest of him is bound in place by lines and tubes feeding into his arms, his chest, disappearing beneath the sheet in ways that make it clear he is not meant to be moved. Every connection binds him more firmly to the machines, each one a quiet confirmation that whatever is keeping him here is no longer something he can do himself.

I walk over, approaching his right hand sitting upright, just outside the sheets. Three fingers are absent amongst the bandages, but I embrace it anyway, pushing past the squeamish side of me.

Caelan. I call out mentally, guessing he couldn’t hear me physically.

I feel a flicker of life. The smallest flame possible. As if its last sliver of oxygen is being smothered, it will soon become just smoke.

Koan. Why are you here?

I’m here to save you.

Ha, that is a nice thought, but…

I can feel my plan slipping now.

The link I have with him is telling me everything I need to know about his condition.

I can’t be moved, Koan.

I finally summoned up the courage to take charge, to pick a path of my own volition, but it was far too late.

A rage so foreign to me swells within me.

Darcel, I’ll end you.

The alarms wailing around me match my inner torment.

I won’t let my determination be for nothing.

I can feel Caelan almost recoiling at my sudden outburst of emotions, so I push as much comfort as I can into the words I say next.

I accept the charge then. I will aid you and Evander.

I can see tears running down the closed eyes.

BAH BUMP.

My heart thuds. The world around me warps to the Alterworld as my body now fills with energy at my acceptance.

Before me, Caelan lies, as a faint ethereal ghost in this dark, unlit room. The tiny sliver of dampened light at his core.

I can feel his presence looking at me with immense appreciation.

Thank you, Caelan.

Now go, and stay alive.

BAH BUMP.

The unnaturally spaced heartbeats warp my perception again back to the Overworld.

Backing away, I take one last look at Caelan, who lies there unmoving but with the faintest smile adorning his tear-streaked lips.

I turn and prepare to evacuate this hospital a second time in one week.