Just like she had promised him, she had left out the machete - she would have to buy Lock a new one since she was pretty sure it had been originally his - for Leo. For a moment, she considered waiting until he came back into the room to try to sleep but the day’s exertion had left her drained. By the time he came back, she would be sound asleep.
It wasn’t a very restful sleep but she was thankful it wasn’t broken by nightmares. That didn’t stop her from tossing and turning on the lumpy couch for the hours that she slept. But years of living in cheap motels had ensured that Mic could sleep on almost anything and wake up feeling better. When she finally rubbed her face, turning over and almost slipping onto the floor, it was much later.
“Everything okay?” she asked into the room, not sure where he was exactly, voice heavy with sleep, accent thicker than normal.
It had been some time and he had spent the entire night dozing in and out on the floor, eating, humming over the sound of the whispers, and shaking off mirages of teeth and shapeless figures in the shadows and maybe he was better off keeping his eyes shut, when the only images floating about were eyes and swirling ink. Lesser of two evils, he supposed. At least he had convinced himself that the images behind his eyes were not real. The ones outside however…
By the time she woke up, the whispers became a constant racket. An occasional howl cut through the bubbling speech, and Mic would find him with his hands pressed tightly against his ears, a grimace appearing permanent on his face, even as her voice pierced through.
notrealnotrealnotreal
getoutGeToUtgETouTGETOUT.
“They’re in my head,” he moaned. “Won’t stop. I can’t–they’re inside me."
