Bit 13 Chapter 13: The Breath of Jerry

"Jerry? Jerry?" Rafi took a stroll back against a wall of whistling bricks.

"What are you?" The whistling of Jerry curls into spitting words, curious words of curiousity and dubious omniousity.

Rafi's eyes narrowed at nothing; the black space in front of him wavered once, and then became very cod, just like the first morning of grief.




"What? Again? What?"

"We have to go downstairs."


"You're going upstairs."

"No. I'm not."

"You're going up stairs."

"Jerry." He ruffly stopped walking. "I'm walking. I am physically walking down. Stop taking the piss cos' everything's freaking me out." He huffed on his breath.

"I'm genuinely not. It felt like you were leading us up. I felt you turn around."

"My coordination isn't that shit is it?"

"No." Jerry swallowed terribly thickly. The unnerving churn rotted through his veins to the core of his brittle bones. It felt like he was falling from a high, high place. "Terry, something's really freaking me out now." He hissed quickly after a strangled stop, voice squeaking.

"Listen, if you freak out, I'll freak out." Terry tightened a steady hand on his classmate's sleeve and tugged it with some inspirit. "You're alright. We'll talk through that shit when we've found the others."

"And about that..." Jerry mused. Terry waited.


Jerry paused. "Well?" Terry's eyebrow quivered. "What else d'you think I'm onnabout? We can't see, we don't know if...they're...if they're lost?"

"Jerry. What is the matter with you? It's this school ain't it? I'm quivering like a little shit. I keep expecting to be jump-scared by Dan falling off his chair like...three floors below us." Jerry snickered to this - but maybe his welcomed throat murmers made it close to a laugh.

They both did, quaintly openly, faintly shivering laughs like worried omniousity of chilliness. But the openness still hovered with them, and their unwelcome rusty laughs impregnated into every squeeze of atmosphere they could devour; but it wasn't the atmosphere they had last laughed yet in.

"Jerry," Rafi fell silent. "What is it?" Still as the sill of a window, Rafi continued to gawk silently at the breath of Jerry. It was there with essence, but also didn't feel like flesh. "What are you?" He asked again. Rafi turned his head slightly as if he thought to move away for a specle of second, but quickly he turned straight and placed two arms on the shoulders that he could only touch with reached stretched arms. Yet this coincidence of being just as arms length seemed like a sinister ominously. All the other scarred presses Rafi had felt of this were weakly sad and suspiciously unclear - yet this pressed scar felt like a sickly richness he did not expect, for he could at last name a part of that lingering confusion above oblivious kids in an innocent scene. We're they just that of mere puppeteers?

Now awkwardly touching his shoulders, Rafi for the first time shouldered into his classmates eyes as if he understood beyond him, because he knew things were starting to become worthy of weariness.

"Jer-" Eyes seemed cold. "Jer...what do you mean? Did something...I don't know, happen?" Eyes were supposed to be warm. "Jer-?" And painfully, Rafi became concious of his subtly growing fear. Oh. When that breath became sharp and deep in his chest and grew into small pickles and stabs and ragged cuts like razor threads, Rafi painfully met fear, for the paled, veinless, shivering, bony, almost translucent husk face stood ahead of him like a perilous supernatural threat with the skin of forgotten normality. Rafi's face felt torn, and then he began to shiver in his withdrawal.

Jerry let him.

"Wha-" A stumble and a gulp to be ready to talk to his..that face, and those torn, ripped monochrome hair strands floating as if in hypnotising torture. "What happened to you? You and Terry and Dan and all left, didn't you? And then..." He couldn't. He couldn't look away from such ice cold eyes. The mouth on him seemed to be stretching, yet not once showing any signs of opening. And then it peeled like it couldn't stand the unbareableness of its anguish, and his eye revealed a reflection of Rafi moving behind Jerry's head with a peeling eye in the reflection of a bloodied dangerous wound yearning at his head. And that eye only showed Rafi's cursed face in solitude.

They seemed to be dragging their limbs at Rafi's light, and dropping in blue and their knuckles of arm and leg beneath their shredding dust veined with past-away shadow and bleached lost colour.

" answer him...n.Not this time..'..'..again?...not."

Rafi did not once stop balancing himself against black. He knew not, of course, of where he stood, and why he was balancing, for his feet could dangle with empty air - it felt like a new cold breathing up his trouser sleeves and intertwining in his fabric until this new cold made his mind ensnare with the desperation of a delusional mind...and made his ensnared thoughts retell into imagery that even he could watch exile from and into the black. It forced him to comply with the heart of his dead friend. He saw it happening underneath him, in the black, all in the while forgetting that he was in darkness - it was impossible. He had been seen in its breath, and he could never cry out once again.

"Terry, something's wrong."

"Oh, for God's sake, I-"

"No, no, no. Terry, can you hear that?"

"Can I hear w-" His fast pace gravelled riposte simmered quietly. He could hear it too.

"Yeah. S...Sc...screams." Terry spoke no words. "Ok. We're alright. We're all fine aren't we? Yeah, we're...alright." The open air blew shrills of far-away fear. Mysterious.

And after a trembling solitude solidity, they both turned to one another. Close they were; dangling hair touching each other's sweat creased foreheads of anxious dead breath rasping in dust cough gasps. They both could feel dank, airy warm breaths shuddering at ominous intervals.

"Don't move. Please don't move, no please, Terry." Jerry had forced such impulsively unclear letterings to shape his mouth, yet the hum of voice did not come, and he knew in such darkness that Terry could not see, and so the fourteen-year-old boy with the beige hair fluttered forward to step on solid in dark. He focussed specifically on the phantom wails that seemed to caress and linger the austere forbidden walls and in stretching at stairs of significance.

"Ok, you may be wondering why I don't seem eager to like, 'o, someone's in trouble, ho, oh' like, no. Because's's like it's coming from my...from my...head." Feverishly, words ceased in speaking and whispered ahead. Terry crookedly nodded his head.

"Yeah. It is...weird." He had, at that time, forced a careful breath out of him before they condensed too deep into his disturb. "Amalgamation. It means we should all be together. We should never have gone off without the other guys. It's our own walk now to get back to them. We will do that. Yeah, it damn dark, but jeez. I-I mean we're It's just school."

"Just a school? With those sounds-?"

"Jerry, we're freaking out. We have been in darkness for hours."

"Then why ain't anyone around, hm?"

"There is, of course. We're just freaking out."


"No, no, no. We're ok-ok, man." Terry rambled.

"Terry, for fuck's sake."

"We're fine! We're fucking fine!" Like a raw, teenage scream, his voice strained in a tug of youth and adulthood, and despite, he became frightened like both.

It bounded, his yell, into the tension-lowered air. So hesitantly, anxiety smudges smoothed to concentrated, abstract strokes so that the colourless blur remained insignificant. The two classmates' skin and skeleton outlines prick with prosperity and calm, and the shrills of other voice grew into another ignored massacre.

They looked near each other for the first time in the aftermath of the yell, and they had interlinked understanding that they could use to obviate their thoughts when they started to retreat back into a presumed wall until they could find the notes of the wail, until they recognised it as inhuman, and then found that it originates from pipes...a leak. It was a leak, and the wails were that of people drowning.
















"Drowning?" Jerry wondered why he was thinking such thoughts.

Bit 12

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