Bang!
I felt numb when I woke up, and a little angry. Maybe the weight of what I'd just attempted hadn't hit me yet but I knew I'd failed. I don't know how, but I'd failed.
I set it all up perfectly; I left a note saying goodbye, I climbed into the bathtub so the mess would be easier to clean up, and I pressed the barrel to the roof of my mouth so I couldn't miss. Yet here I was. I really was a failure; I couldn't even kill myself right.
I could still taste the cold steel and a hint of gunpowder but the rifle was gone. So was the ruddy bathtub and the thin wooden walls and the cracked leaking ceiling. The trailer that I'd spent the last twenty-one years of my life was nowhere to be found; instead, I was lying on an itchy bed surrounded by thick stone walls and bookshelves that were filled all the way to the ceiling.
"I'm so tired." I thought as I rolled over in bed.
I don't care where I was or what was happening to me. All I could think about was how I'd have to spend even one more day walking the earth.
"Ahh!"
I shot up as a sharp pain ran through my skull. It was as if the bullet was piercing my brain all over again.
"Stop it!" I shouted at no one in particular. I was so sick of all the endless pain. I just wanted it to end.
"You stop it!"
"What? Who's there?" I glanced around the room, while still grasping the sides of my head, as I searched for whoever was speaking to me.
"You're in my body! Get out of my body!" The young voice shouted.
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
I looked down and saw someone else's hands sticking out of my arms and someone else's arms sticking out of my shoulders. My legs were way too small and I was way too skinny. The fat mass I spent years abusing at football practice was reduced to a small child who couldn't have weighed more than ninety pounds soaking wet.
"What the fuck is going on?! What happened to me?!"
The numb pain was quickly replaced by terror. I leapt out of bed and looked myself over. Sure enough, it was a child's body, and it definitely wasn't mine.
"I said get out of my body!" the young voice shouted again; presumably the true owner of this body.
"I'm sorry I don't know what happened. You can have your body back, I don't want it."
He woke up and looked down to see the rifle was gone; the taste of the cold steel still fresh in his mouth.
"Why?"
This was the only thought running through his head.
"I thought it would all be over so why am I still here?"
Sunlight shown down from the open window onto the woolen quilt that covered him. A far cry from the dower trailer he had lived in for the last twenty years.
"Wait, where is here?"
The walls were cobbled stone with streaks of mildew running down from the ceiling. A sweet tinge of rot seemed to emanate from the several bookshelves spread around the small room.
A spindly pair of arms arose in front of him. The pale skin that covered the bony fingers seemed as if it may slough off at the slightest disturbance.
"Have I been in a coma?"
Having played Football for several years his flesh was neither pale nor scrawny; the rough callouses on his hands seemed to have faded as well.
"Ahh!"
A sharp pain emanated from his skull. The thin hands grasped his head and roamed their way around to the place he had hallowed out after so much effort; but there was nothing. No gaping hole or bloody wound. Just, nothing.
"What the hell is going on," he muttered to himself.
The migraine intensified as if the bullet was still lodged in his brain.
'Get Out!'
"Who's there?" His heart beat out of his chest as he looked around for the voice that seemed to come from nowhere.
'Get out of my body!'
"What the hell is going- AHH!" Pain exploded as a spike of pain pierced the back of his skull.
'You're in my body! Leave!'
"Okay, fine, take it! I don't care anymore!"
'Oh, okay, um, thanks. How do I do that?'
The voice that was clearly emanating from within his head cooled down and the pain subsided.
"How the hell should I know."
"..."
He raised his hands to his face in exhaustion and concentrated on the voice. With a little effort he felt himself fall back into himself until it seemed as if he were looking out his eyes from very far away.
"There, how's that?" Now there position's had reversed and he spoke to the boy from within his mind.
"Good, thanks."
'Then leave me alone.'
Both boys sat quietly for several moments. The still air now felt heavy. Unsure of what to do, the young boy did what came most natural.
"Mom?" he cried out, barely above a whisper.
He's going to have to speak up if he wants to get her attention.
Bang!
The hand-carved wooden door burst open and a short plump woman came barging in.
What the hell? Does she have bat ears or something?
"Nick, you're okay! how do you feel, sweetie?"
"I'm fine, it's just..."
"Just what?" She cooed.
From deep within the boy Nick, the intruder could only watch as he was about to be revealed. He wondered what fate awaited him, what expression would the woman make when she found out her son had been infected and how sad it was that the infection was a worthless person like himself.
I wonder if I'm going to be exorcised? I hope it doesn't hurt. I'm tired of hurting. I'm tired of everything.
"Nothing, I'm fine." Nick finally said as he flashed an unconvincing smile. His mother eyed him carefully for a few tense moments before standing up.
"Well, if you say so then okay."
"Carroll, is breakfast ready yet?" A tall gaunt looking man asked as he walked into the room.
"Vincent, your child just woke up after being in a coma for a week and that's all you can say?"
Vincent looked the boy over before responding.
"See? I told you he was going to be okay. You were all worked up over nothing." Vincent shrugged.
"What?! I-You were the one that insisted that he get his seal which was what put him in a coma in the first place! Can't you at least say you're sorry?!" Carroll screeched.
"The priest said he was probably going to be fine and he is so I don't know what you're so upset about." Vincent said as he walked out of the room.
"Vincent!" Carroll yelled as she chased her husband out of the room.
'I thought you were going to sell me out there.' said the intruder.
"Yeah, me too."
'I kinda wish you would've.'
The room grew still again until Nick spoke up.
"So, um, how did you get here?"
'I don't know. I don't want to be here, I just am.'
"Oh, I'm sorry." Nick replied awkwardly.
'Whatever, it's not like it's your fault.'
"... What are we going to do now?"
'We? What are we going to do? I'm not going to do anything. I'm just going to sit here until one of us dies, hopefully sooner rather than later.'
"You want me to die?" Nick asked, barely above a whisper. The intruder sighs from within his host. Nick can feel the agonizing cyclone of emotion whirling about him.
'I want to die. That's probably how I got here in the first place. I tried to kill myself but I can't even do that right. I just figure I'll die if you do too, not like I'm trying to kill you or anything, I'm just saying; we've all got to go sooner or later so might as well be sooner.'