Morrie screamed, but it was not her voice. Morrighen screamed, but it was not her mind.
What am I? Who are you?
Harry's reality burned through her weak mind, opening her eyes to the terrible wonders within his soul.
We see but through a looking-glass darkly . . .
Tendrils covered in grime—malformed, half-moon eyes—dripping pustules—bubbling claws—so many eyes, so many arms, so many mouths—fangs hundreds of feet long—mashed shapes, illogical patterns, nonsensical grunsts and howls—myriad splashes of ebony-trimmed light. These things and more she saw, these indescribable, beautiful horrors.
It was a silent scream, a terror which she could not fathom, that finally quieted Morrie. Somewhere else, her body shrieked in horror and pain, the feelings she could no longer express. She was gone, beyond that now--where she was, she could not tell.
Miles before I sleep.
Morrighen screamed and tore away from Harry, red eyes widening. She had never been afraid. She had always had control. She waited for the rage to build up, but it refused to obey her. Her anchor failed her for the first time.
"What are you?" she screamed, face bunched up in fright. Harry didn't answer her, hunched up on the floor and clutching his head, eyes shut tight, trying to block out what she saw. "Answer me!" She stepped back. "Answer me!" She took a hesitant step forward. "Answer me!"
Morrighen spun around, trying to focus on something besides this unman, this beyond-man that invaded her mind. She wanted to run. Her fear filled up the emptiness left by her rage. Spurred on, she latched onto the nearest crowd of people, fingers outstretched, mouth wide open in a shriek that ended with her biting off an ear. Morrighen tore into the woman, clothes and skin and muscle shredded like paper till her ragged corpse fell to the ground, loose scraps of muscle still knotted to the bone, nothing to show of her life but a spreading red stain on the floor. Morrighen stared at the red life on her clothes in barely-concealed envy. "Someone else to see for me," she said. "I can't see myself anymore." She charged a man who was running away. She leaped onto his back, knees gripping his head and smashing his face into the floor. Blood spewed across the linoleum. Morrighen pounded the back of his head till she could think no more.
Should be drinking a toast to absent friends.
Morrie stood in the center of all the chaos of Harry's mind, turning around and around, unable to understand. How could—what had happened to make it so—how could Harry's mind be like this? She fell to her knees, arm outstretched towards the massive things of her nightmares, tears flowing down her cheeks.
She wanted to know. She wanted to understand.
And like that, the floodgates opened.
Where are you going? Nowhere. Don't LIE to me! You're hiding something, you always are. All I want is the truth. You don't think you’re getting it? Leave me alone. After all I've done for you? What, given me a home where I've got nothing to care for, clothed and fed me without ever giving me what I actually deserve? Yeah, sure I was happy, I remember happy, that was before HE showed up! Get the hell out of my house! FINE!
A single step taken in anger, a little too much to drink, and suddenly in a twist of steel and bone it changes. A sea-change.
You . . . you have my name. That's funny. Yeah, that's pretty cool. So where you from? Uh . . . know that house on the hill? . . . Oh. Yeah. Wow, that's impressive. What about you? Oh, nowhere special. So, see you around? Of course.
What are the chances that two people so different could have the same name? What fate predicted this?
Oh God. . . . Hey . . . Oh, God, oh God, oh, God, Morrie. I look terrible, don't I? Yeah. I can't believe this. Well, I got a little angry, that's all, wasn't paying attention. That's when it always happens. You never hear about fate striking someone when they're paying attention. . . . What’s wrong? Oh, nothing. Just thinking. Things have changed a lot recently. Yeah. Seems like something’s going to happen soon . . . Huh? Did you ever see that old show, what was it, Star Trek? The movies? No. Why? No reason. I . . . Morrie, give me your hand. Yes? I want you to promise me something. You know I’d do it. I know . . . I’m here, Morrie. Remember me. Promise me that. Just . . . remember.
She goes out all alone and on her own.
Lights flickering on and off, and memories no longer matching. He remembered her, all right. How could he forget with her mind smashing up against his nearly every second of every day, her dying breath still echoing in his ears? He would see someone she remembered, and then the surge would come, and the lights would spark above him in recognition. He sat in his room, staring at the lampshade, clenching his fist, his veins standing out around his muscles, and the light would flicker and die. He couldn’t help but wish that he would die with it. The world wasn’t fair. God gives and takes away. Who made God God?
The light shone off the sharp metal. He winced as it bit into his skin, but the pain passed, replaced with peace, sweet peace, and the memories rushed through his mind in one last surge of brilliant power, and he felt himself carried up and out, out, out, beyond. He gasped, and the entire city plunged into darkness as two gigantic surges ripped across the grid.
Sleep now, sleep now . . . rest awhile . . . you’ll be better in the morning.
Morrie gasped, her memories slamming into her with the force of a freight train. She shuddered, lying on the ground in Harry’s soul. “Harry, help me,” she said. “I . . . can’t . . .” She opened her eyes, staring at the eldritch horrors surrounding her. She shivered. All she could think of was the blood dripping down the drain and the surge of relief it brought her. Drip, drip, explode. It was so quick. Why couldn’t she do it again?
It isn’t right anymore.
Morrighen clutched her head. “Get out of my head!” she said. “You can’t steal my face!” She stood up off the pulpy mess of a man, snarling through the red, sticky blood splattered across her face. “Leave me alone!” She took a hesitant step towards the ball what was Harry, then another, then dove at him, fingers outstretched, ready to skewer him with her nails, if only to get him to go away.
Harry’s hands caught her by the wrists, stopping her in her tracks. “Why?” he said. “Why?”
Morrighen shoved away from him. She didn’t understand, refused to understand. “Diediediediediediedie,” she hissed. She opened her mouth, inhaled.
Morrie stood up, tears streaming down her face. “I don’t understand,” she said. “Someone make me understand.” She took a step forward. A many-eyed monstrosity stared at her. “Harry? Are you in here anymore? Please, I’m afraid . . . is this what you see?” She took another step. “Is this what you are?” Don’t let my comfort be a new horror unto himself, she prayed. “Please . . . I’m so scared!” She took another step. Her eyes locked with the many-eyed creature before her. She tripped, hand flailing. Her fingers brushed the lid of one eye.
Drip, drip, explode. The surge hit.
Morrighen fell to the ground, letting out a howl that woke the very earth beneath her feet. Ghostly blue wisps of light faded in, superimposing the face of someone else over her features, and then vanished. The lights flickered wildly, and for a moment in the scattered rays, it looked like everyone had Morrie’s face.
Morrighen—no, it was Morrie now—fell to the ground, tendrils of smoke rising off her body.
Harry stared at her body and said, “Why?”
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