Fletch felt as if he might as well be covered in dirt already and was trying his best to claw his way out. Only he was scratching his arms so that they were bleeding. Maybe.
He'd catch himself hallucinating. There was a time he was so sure Sasha was there. Telling him he would need to cut himself open if he really wanted to get better. Of course, it was a crazy dream. Really.
He couldn't remember the last time they'd talk. Where was she, anyway?
"Where is your sister? Where is she?" It was as if she'd been here, but she didn't want him to know. No one wanted him to know.
"She doesn't love you," Lauren told him. "She never will. Why would she want to be here?"
He did his best to shake her troublesome words from his head, but they were stuck on repeat for a time.
"YOU WANT TO KILL ME, DON'T YOU!" That was it. There was no illusion to it. It was very real to him. Like a sword of ice piercing into his side.
"I did want to kick your arse in the beginning, but you are quite pitiful now. Now you just make me sad," she admitted. "Honestly, I feel nothing for you. I just wanted something to do. And I thought it time to see you suffer, even for a little while. Perhaps for my sister, or the thought, I was never there when you saw me. You always thought I was Sash. Who do you think you are?"
She was cold. Very cold. And he hated her. This was all her doing. He'd be just fine if she hadn't intervene.
"I can't do this!" He pleaded. "Let me go!" He was suffering here. Nothing would stay down. He ached all over. In places he didn't know that could even ache.
"Where would you go? Really? You're ghastly." Her face came close ,and it changed before him. Something wicked perhaps. Who was she?
"Just go to sleep, will you?"
He kept shaking his head that he wouldn't. Never. He couldn't. And then he was asleep.
7 hours ago