Anne's Dementia
Em... I said I had fun playing Anne as a sociopath...
Anne clattered around the kitchen fetching pots and pans, rejecting them on size and material and general cleanliness factors. The tin of beans was already picked out as this mornings breakfast. It would be a change from Kirk's stew. As she tried to light the fire, she hummed a little song. To anyone overhearing it sounded like "Mary had a little lamb" but the words were off slightly.
"Mikey went out for a walk
for a walk
for a walk
then he went and lost his head
and now he is quite dead!"
She wished that someone had thought to bring a lighter with them or matches. The thought struck her, someone had, but unfortunately he had fallen to pieces when they had left him alone. It was unfortunate, but no use crying over spilt milk. She wondered whether Kirk had wanted breakfast, he hadn't answered when she asked. He had gone out the front door hadn't he? Anne traipsed out the front door, smiling. They never got skies like this back home. It added a friendly red tint to everything. She approached the wall and looked down the road. Both directions. No sign of Kirk. Maybe he had gone somewhere else?
Oh well! Anne walked inside again and picked up a sheet. It was one of those fine cotton sheets that came with the house. Sheet in arm, she walked back out. It wouldn't do to have Mike lying on the ground at the crossroads. Then people would know. People would know that they were there. That wouldn't do at all. Anne hopped over the wall and started walking towards Mike. It took a few minutes but he was still where she had left him. She scooped up bits, rolling his body into the sheet. The camera was gone. One of the boys must have taken it. Anne bent and picked up the severed head. He wasn't bad looking, she supposed, if only he made more sense. Shrugging at her internal thoughts, she put the head with the rest of him.
She half dragged, half carried the body back to the house, singing her merry tune as she went. A tapping sound... from the sewers. How unusual. But it doesn't matter, soon she would be home in the safe house. She hopped up on the wall and dragged the sheet after her. It caught on something briefly and she dropped one of the makeshift handles. The head rolled out, bouncing to a stop. She bent to pick it up. It winked. How peculiar. That shouldn't happen. Oh well!
She dragged it back to the house. She would bury it. Yes, she would bury Mike. He was dead. It made sense. It would be a shame to bury him here but... Couldn't be helped. She called John. John was strong, he would help. He wouldn't. This was ... unusual. He wanted her to drop Mike. To leave him outside. On his own. That wouldn't work. That wouldn't work at all. John seemed confused when Anne told him that Mike wasn't happy about being buried. He wanted Anne to come inside. But not Mike. That was rude.
Anne stopped him from touching her. Instead, trying to make him realise that she had to do this. Mike would be lonely outside. John seemed scared. John is bleeding. That's unfortunate. Now, Mike is screaming. That's not polite. That's not nice. Patrick has fainted. How ... unuseful. Anne tears strips off the blanket. First, gagging Mike. Now she could think. She looked at John. He was bleeding. Not as bad as Kirk had been when he tripped over and hurt himself. She wrapped his head in bandages, stopping the flow a little.
She helped him get to his feet but he couldn't walk. She dragged him inside. He was sitting on one of the chairs now. Comfortable. She dragged Patrick inside. Finally, Mike was brought inside. He wasn't screaming any more so Anne removed the gag. She put his head on the coffee table. At least he could see now. Unbandaging Patrick's head, she remembered all those first aid lessons she had taken. She fixed and cleaned until he was slightly better. At least he wasn't bleeding any more. Now. Mike wouldn't want food. She wondered if he had tastebuds. She could possibly give him some scotch. But where would it go? Better not to. Beth was watching her. That little girl is strange. But she's not doing anything. Oh well! Wonder if she wants something to eat?
This is a strange place. We should be home. The rules are simpler at home. Mike was freaking Patrick out. Staring at him. Very strange.
Everything clicked!
Anne found herself standing in the middle of the living room. But how? Why? Vague memories flooded around her, confusing her. She looked around. There was a ... head?... on the table. That's not... It's not there. It can't be there. Anne inquired after Kirk but he hadn't been seen since morning. She inquired, then, about Mike. Patrick pointed her to the head. She wasn't hallucinating. Anne grabbed a towel and threw it over the staring head. That was a little too weird for her.
CRASH!
Kirk fell through the coffee table. Mike went flying. Kirk was hurt. Anne grabbed his arm and pushed hard, relocating the joint. He screamed a little but then it was okay.
Her vision cracked, well, sort of. Her vision caked over. This wasn't good. This wasn't right. This wasn't natural. This wasn't the same room. They were home. They escaped? But how? And can they stay escaped?
Anne clattered around the kitchen fetching pots and pans, rejecting them on size and material and general cleanliness factors. The tin of beans was already picked out as this mornings breakfast. It would be a change from Kirk's stew. As she tried to light the fire, she hummed a little song. To anyone overhearing it sounded like "Mary had a little lamb" but the words were off slightly.
"Mikey went out for a walk
for a walk
for a walk
then he went and lost his head
and now he is quite dead!"
She wished that someone had thought to bring a lighter with them or matches. The thought struck her, someone had, but unfortunately he had fallen to pieces when they had left him alone. It was unfortunate, but no use crying over spilt milk. She wondered whether Kirk had wanted breakfast, he hadn't answered when she asked. He had gone out the front door hadn't he? Anne traipsed out the front door, smiling. They never got skies like this back home. It added a friendly red tint to everything. She approached the wall and looked down the road. Both directions. No sign of Kirk. Maybe he had gone somewhere else?
Oh well! Anne walked inside again and picked up a sheet. It was one of those fine cotton sheets that came with the house. Sheet in arm, she walked back out. It wouldn't do to have Mike lying on the ground at the crossroads. Then people would know. People would know that they were there. That wouldn't do at all. Anne hopped over the wall and started walking towards Mike. It took a few minutes but he was still where she had left him. She scooped up bits, rolling his body into the sheet. The camera was gone. One of the boys must have taken it. Anne bent and picked up the severed head. He wasn't bad looking, she supposed, if only he made more sense. Shrugging at her internal thoughts, she put the head with the rest of him.
She half dragged, half carried the body back to the house, singing her merry tune as she went. A tapping sound... from the sewers. How unusual. But it doesn't matter, soon she would be home in the safe house. She hopped up on the wall and dragged the sheet after her. It caught on something briefly and she dropped one of the makeshift handles. The head rolled out, bouncing to a stop. She bent to pick it up. It winked. How peculiar. That shouldn't happen. Oh well!
She dragged it back to the house. She would bury it. Yes, she would bury Mike. He was dead. It made sense. It would be a shame to bury him here but... Couldn't be helped. She called John. John was strong, he would help. He wouldn't. This was ... unusual. He wanted her to drop Mike. To leave him outside. On his own. That wouldn't work. That wouldn't work at all. John seemed confused when Anne told him that Mike wasn't happy about being buried. He wanted Anne to come inside. But not Mike. That was rude.
Anne stopped him from touching her. Instead, trying to make him realise that she had to do this. Mike would be lonely outside. John seemed scared. John is bleeding. That's unfortunate. Now, Mike is screaming. That's not polite. That's not nice. Patrick has fainted. How ... unuseful. Anne tears strips off the blanket. First, gagging Mike. Now she could think. She looked at John. He was bleeding. Not as bad as Kirk had been when he tripped over and hurt himself. She wrapped his head in bandages, stopping the flow a little.
She helped him get to his feet but he couldn't walk. She dragged him inside. He was sitting on one of the chairs now. Comfortable. She dragged Patrick inside. Finally, Mike was brought inside. He wasn't screaming any more so Anne removed the gag. She put his head on the coffee table. At least he could see now. Unbandaging Patrick's head, she remembered all those first aid lessons she had taken. She fixed and cleaned until he was slightly better. At least he wasn't bleeding any more. Now. Mike wouldn't want food. She wondered if he had tastebuds. She could possibly give him some scotch. But where would it go? Better not to. Beth was watching her. That little girl is strange. But she's not doing anything. Oh well! Wonder if she wants something to eat?
This is a strange place. We should be home. The rules are simpler at home. Mike was freaking Patrick out. Staring at him. Very strange.
Everything clicked!
Anne found herself standing in the middle of the living room. But how? Why? Vague memories flooded around her, confusing her. She looked around. There was a ... head?... on the table. That's not... It's not there. It can't be there. Anne inquired after Kirk but he hadn't been seen since morning. She inquired, then, about Mike. Patrick pointed her to the head. She wasn't hallucinating. Anne grabbed a towel and threw it over the staring head. That was a little too weird for her.
CRASH!
Kirk fell through the coffee table. Mike went flying. Kirk was hurt. Anne grabbed his arm and pushed hard, relocating the joint. He screamed a little but then it was okay.
Her vision cracked, well, sort of. Her vision caked over. This wasn't good. This wasn't right. This wasn't natural. This wasn't the same room. They were home. They escaped? But how? And can they stay escaped?