The delight and jubilation delivered by the trauma this man is enduring has me bathing in joy... that is, until I am interrupted by a small whimper—breaking my concentration on him. My eyes follow the sound, and that is when I see her. She is clinging to the banister, her legs swaying like a flag, as it waves in the breeze.
What is this feeling, this warmth?
It doesn’t last long when I realize she is slipping—no, quickly it is replaced with a sense of urgency. With no thought for my actions, I jump into Peter. His broken body and pleading thoughts make it taxing to take control of. I also haven’t possessed anyone for decades—nevertheless, someone this close to the other side.
Unfortunately for him, I don't care about his well-being. My only concern is that he harbors enough energy to manifest my own.
Struggling.
Fighting.
Punching.
Using his fists against his legs, popping bones back in place, resetting them—I can’t feel his pain, nor do I want to, I only need him to move.“Please save me!”
I roll his eye in response to his own thoughts. “You are a fraud to your core,” I answer to his unspoken cries. “I am not here to help you. I am here to…” His left foot moves forward. “Save…” Then, the right, as I struggle to maneuver his dead weight and before I know it, Peter is running. “Her!” I yell in Peter’s voice.
Reaching his arms out, I catch her just in time. Her heart is racing, and her eyes are wide with fear. “Peter, what-”
I shake Peter’s head, “I already toldlifeyou were mine.” I respond to her, “I will be damned ifdeathtakes you away from me.”
The recognition hits her. “Oliver!” Nodding, I look back as Brennan continues to stalk Peter.
“There is no need to run, little snake.” His voice is dampened by the rain and rolling claps of thunder, but that doesn’t make a difference in his deliverance. “You have entered my garden and meddled in things you cannot… come back from.”
Using the limited vision Peter has, I scour the terrain looking for somewhere safe to drop her off. “Your family has takeneverythingaway from me. So, I’m going to return the favor.” With my destination in mind, Brennan calls out his next threat. “I am going to smash your brains in, thenfuckthe hole it leaves behind so I can be the last thing on your pitifulfuckingmind.”
I dart into the garden, kissing Emory on the forehead as I set her down on the bench—managing an apologetic expression before disappearing beyond the brush.
Fuck I must redirect him.
Then, it clicks. I am going to attempt to have a conversation with Peter’s conscience. He is screaming, “I know this isn’t me! My own body is betraying me!” I make a noise, equivalent to clearing my throat, but he continues. “I would have never saved that Selby bitch.”
His screaming was too loud, and he has more than angered me with his last statement. So, I try again to get him to calm down for a moment. “Wait, maybe I’m not crazy. Is someone else there?” The fear in his tone was the sweetest form of justice, but I had to keep my eye on the prize:getting him away from Emory.
“Yes, Peter.” The relief in his voice was disgusting. I had to keep telling myself, ‘Hewillbe getting his’. “I am your conscience.”
“Ok, Peter. I need you to listen closely.”Focus, Oliver.“That man will be waiting for you at the entrance. We must think of our point of attack.”
I feel the body stiffen as he fights me. “Attack! I am not ‘attacking’ anything in the state that I am in.” My patience is running thin, and his whining is not helping.
I think:Does he have enough energy to charge him?
I try lifting his arms to his face, only making it to about chest level.
Hm, not as much as I’d hoped.
I try to picture the garden maze, but since I have only taken the light away from Peter, and his mind is still readily available, the image is diluted.
I know there is another exit.
Think.
Think.
Think.
That's it, through Niven’s Secret Garden.
