03-28-2023, 05:31 AM
Marcus wanted to move, needed to move. The thing was gone down a hall. Escaped after what it did to him- had almost done to him. And he struggled to move. The words had come to his lips, but that seemed the extent to which he had control of himself. His energy had seemed to evaporate.
The paralysis strengthened, as if his body seized up. He dimly remembered this once before. The first time he felt the Force, had used it to bring order to the universe. Such a wonderful beautiful moment, only to he marred by the reaction that he'd since then learned was common to all Force users. The shakes and then the strained muscles tensing up until he couldn't move.
No. No. It was worse. The blackness, the suffocation. He remembered the closet. Mrs Swerlin. The small pet carrier, still smelling of fluffy's last trip to the vet. Tight and the hard plastic against his small frame that was too big for it, his tear stained cheeks pressed to metal mesh , as her sock covered feet spun around and marched to the door, black suddenly replacing light, and then the sound of the slam and quiet.
He thought he heard Andre somewhere crying. But he could do nothing for his brother. He was in the dark, in the kennel, punishment for spilling milk on the carpet, her deceptively soft and kind voice reciting those words still echoing in his ear. He that spareth his rod hateth his son: but he that loveth him chasteneth him betimes.
That fear and anger and terror that had brought him his friend, the one he later named Malik. The one who told him what they deserved. The one with whom he confided his fear and his plans for revenge.
He felt all that again, now, staring off, watching Ryker disappear down the hall after the guard. Felt it and reached for Malik. Reach Malik, his friend, his truest brother, his other self. Found Malik and pulled him around him, a cloak, tight against the strain.
And the rage birthed life and Malik stood, feeling alive. The Force spun about him, a web of spirit and fire, tasting the air and walls and floors. It boiled and swirled and he walked- slow at first- each step feeding him strength until he strode out into hall. He'd heard noises in one direction and followed.
He found Ryker, gun in hand, the guard on the ground, neck at an unnatural angle. The look on his face- and the way he held the gun- betrayed the panic the man felt.
Maybe. His eyes narrowed. Had the thing gone into Ryker? Could he know? The webs coalesced, sinking into him. What he was searching for, he wasn't sure. It was mostly spirit so there would be no real damage as he probed his body and mind.
It might not feel great, but Malik had no intention of letting that thing get away.
The paralysis strengthened, as if his body seized up. He dimly remembered this once before. The first time he felt the Force, had used it to bring order to the universe. Such a wonderful beautiful moment, only to he marred by the reaction that he'd since then learned was common to all Force users. The shakes and then the strained muscles tensing up until he couldn't move.
No. No. It was worse. The blackness, the suffocation. He remembered the closet. Mrs Swerlin. The small pet carrier, still smelling of fluffy's last trip to the vet. Tight and the hard plastic against his small frame that was too big for it, his tear stained cheeks pressed to metal mesh , as her sock covered feet spun around and marched to the door, black suddenly replacing light, and then the sound of the slam and quiet.
He thought he heard Andre somewhere crying. But he could do nothing for his brother. He was in the dark, in the kennel, punishment for spilling milk on the carpet, her deceptively soft and kind voice reciting those words still echoing in his ear. He that spareth his rod hateth his son: but he that loveth him chasteneth him betimes.
That fear and anger and terror that had brought him his friend, the one he later named Malik. The one who told him what they deserved. The one with whom he confided his fear and his plans for revenge.
He felt all that again, now, staring off, watching Ryker disappear down the hall after the guard. Felt it and reached for Malik. Reach Malik, his friend, his truest brother, his other self. Found Malik and pulled him around him, a cloak, tight against the strain.
And the rage birthed life and Malik stood, feeling alive. The Force spun about him, a web of spirit and fire, tasting the air and walls and floors. It boiled and swirled and he walked- slow at first- each step feeding him strength until he strode out into hall. He'd heard noises in one direction and followed.
He found Ryker, gun in hand, the guard on the ground, neck at an unnatural angle. The look on his face- and the way he held the gun- betrayed the panic the man felt.
Maybe. His eyes narrowed. Had the thing gone into Ryker? Could he know? The webs coalesced, sinking into him. What he was searching for, he wasn't sure. It was mostly spirit so there would be no real damage as he probed his body and mind.
It might not feel great, but Malik had no intention of letting that thing get away.