Bit 11 Chapter Eleven: Terry

Terry is lost. He is stuck. He knows it. But he isn't panicking, although his little heart beats devastatingly fast, skin turning blank as if it couldn't take the vicious thumps. Terry's breaths come down in deep, quick gasps. And yet miraculously, he is not panicking.

Terry is making himself breathe so painfully hard that his bones shiver in hot blood. He used to do this frequently, but only when he spotted an evil spider behind his uncle's toilet. This time it was different; he only does this in small, innocent situations. Terry would allow himself, make himself panic, and because he was making himself do it, his brain believed that his fright was unnecessary, so he could calm despite deliberately gasping with breathless lungs and wheezing throats. The overdose of oxygen was like a drug had been stabbed into his tender skin to settle a phase of panic or mania, just like the doctors did to him when he almost fell off a cliff.

Terry is not panicking. He merely allows thoughts to linger in his mind, only letting it trickle now and then, only slightly, just to re-fuel his consciousness and sub-consciously distracting concentration.

He is lost.

"I am lost..."

In the dark.

"In the dark..."

In his school.

"In my school.

But he can't do it, so he shuts his eyes forcefully and prays, reaching and clawing at darkness until he feels like he is in his bedroom, asleep but not and just about to wake up. He even feels his head pound softly and his puzzled mind wondering groggily what is going on, slurring "whats"and having those random twists of images across his dizzy mind in the way of a brain adjusting to consciousness after a night's sleep. Terry even starts mumbling muddled phrases and at the very peak of that, opens his eyes to see a bed and a postery wall, blurring into the colour of realisation: school. Morning. But Terry opens his eyes, and all he can see is nothing, and the hollow tapping returns.

It was a while, and Terry slowly begins to think again. He begins to believe the power cut. Nothing more.

"Yasmine? Where on Earth have you gone?" Terry mumbles to the silence.

But there! It swamps on him again; it has been silent. For a long while. That's why everyone was so confused. You expect noise during a power cut. The squealing of kids two floors up, one floor down the corridor...teachers rummaging around and calming crazy classes...the receptionists coming 'round...teachers gathering us all together...but that didn't happen. No one came, and there was no noise. No sound once our class quietened down.

That's strange, isn't it? Surely there would have been...something...?

But no. There was nothing. And the silence...everything...we would stop talking, fidgeting. And silence. No noise. Strange silence.

But, there's a tapping sound. A tapping sound.

Terry is sure that he hears this tapping before, when realising that it was there...the whole time he was there, tapping.

Just tapping.

"Toilets." Terry mouths, imagining a mental layout of the school and the bathroom he's most likely in, trying not to question or think why no teachers are around and why there's no sound.

In the meantime, Terry decided to put an end to his tiring breathing. He didn't want to pass out.

Terry knots his fingers in the web of fabric from his beaten tie as if for amity. He shoves what he supposes to be a door forwards, but the chilly atmosphere, creeping in slowly and freakishly. starts to clench his bones and ghostily tickle his blind skin. He ambles through all the same, all the way until he hears the close in which he savoured the sound of something other than silence. When its sound falls, Terry begins stomping loudly in every cautious step as if he can block out the quiet trepidation in the noise. 

He slides his dry hands along the dry walls and finds that it starts to dip as if he is being dragged.

"Steps." Terry murmurs aloud and holds his tight breath as he tests.  

The might all be at the hall, perhaps. Maybe. The teachers would have searched in case any students went wandering. Health and safety and all that they keep talking about! They will be here. Why would they not? Wouldn't make any sense, would it? Terry did not speak this aloud. He wanted to gain self-control. Talking to oneself is not a good sign to him. To him, it's a sign of worry. Terry doesn't want to worry.

"Hello!" Terry resumes his croaky tone, forcing the call. "My name's Terry Brooks...I'm from 9DS? Our teacher left to contact reception and she hasn't returned?" He duresses himself. "So, me and a few of us left to look for her. Mrs James? In the RE department?...We got split up and I have no light." Terry half-deliberately stutters to a halt with a hidden smirk "Well, of course I don't have any's a power cut..." The last sentence however is dragged until so quiet that the point of him talking to someone has gone away. he knows no one is there., but he doesn't know why.

And then...he feels and smells a twist in the damp air and its compressed breathing; the soft near musical, high note; ringing as softly as a chandelier, the shards of glass singing against one another. But it gets louder, the chandelier already broke, and pounding drums clawing its way around the voice and turning it into a scream.

And then he sees Jerry, running-tripping up steps, mouth ripped and crumpled open in gasps and wheezes.

"Te-T-Te-Ter-ray. Te-heh-rey. Te-!" He, Jerry, is glowing; glowing with the familiar shadow outlines of gum-scattered stairs and graffitied railings. Beyond that were only unreadable mixtures of strange shapes. Terry sees one of the shapes move, grow taller and clamber back into the black. It looked as if it was waiting for something; for them? 

But then it was gone.

Bit 10 Bit 12

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