Static Reflections: Book 1 of The M... - Chapter 11: Chapter 11

Boris shifted, turning on his side uncomfortably, before opening his eyes again to pure blackness, only this time, he knew he was grounded in reality. The dream with Absalom was still weighing on his mind, and now, he turned to face Tyler, who was most likely asleep in the car seat beside him.
You're still here . . . ? I'm honestly surprised. I can't believe this whole time you were suffering in silence and I never knew. Maybe I didn't deserve to know. But if you told me, I could have helped sooner rather than later. Now, I have to kill you. Should I just get it over with? He shuddered, scooting back in his seat. No, not going to do it.
The two had parked at a Walrus-Mart for the night, knowing that they wouldn't care if they slept in the parking lot or not. Boris felt like such a low-class animal, sleeping in a car like this. And imagining the car seat as his luxurious bed didn't work. It was rough and somewhat scratchy against his fur.
The mustelid took out his phone from his pocket. Since he hadn't been using it much lately, it still had a good amount of battery life left. As he brought the screen to life, he squinted as he fumbled with the display and lowered the brightness until it was a suitable level for his eyes. Boris didn't even pay attention to what time of the night it was as he opened his messages, finding the name of the animal he was looking for.
Boris: Hey, are you awake?
Leah: Yeah. What's up?
Boris: I have something I need to tell you.
Leah: Ok
Boris: I'm not at home right now.
Leah: Big shocker. You haven't been home that much lately. You didn't run away, right?
Boris swallowed. How should he respond to that? How could he even tell her the truth? It wasn't the smartest idea to tell your sister that you were a possessed serial killer. It wasn't like it was by choice, though! She would understand that, right? Boris sighed, knowing that even taking the chance was a stupid idea.
Boris: I guess it's something about that place. I don't want to be there.
Leah: You've told me that before. Is it because of dad
Boris: No.
Leah: Remember that night after you went to that party
The otter blinked. He had only been to a handful of parties in his lifetime willingly, or reluctantly, that weren't thrown by his father. He could count the number on his digits. Boris immediately knew she was talking about the party where he had slain Travis.
Boris: Yes. And you went on another one of your Spark dates. Even though that wasn't too long ago, I hope you took what I said about that app into consideration. You never meet anyone good on there and I know that you're not looking for a fling.
Leah: To be fair, I am looking for a fling+
Boris: Fling+?
Leah: I'm not opposed to sleeping with someone on the first date lol. But there usually isn't a spark
Boris: Yet you use a dating app called Spark? How does it even work?
Leah: Get it yourself and find out, lonely boy ;)
Boris: Shut it.
Leah: You're right. Imagining you dating anyone is like imagining dad taking us on a family trip. Can you imagine him trying to entertain us the whole time
Boris: Like he'd even care enough to try.
Leah: Haha yeah
Boris: I don't find it very funny. How has Molly been?
Leah: Aloof, as always. Do you ever feel bad that you and I hang out so much but we almost never include her in anything? Maybe she's lonely
Boris: What do you mean?
Leah: We're a family but we are all separated. If dad's not gonna spend time with us we should probably invite Mols. Feel like I'm living in a dorm where I see another student walking around but know like nothing about them
Boris: I guess I see what you mean. We are distant from her. But you always say you're busy at night. And you go on so many dates it's honestly egregious.
Leah: Secretly, I'm very lonely
Boris: That's a secret?
Leah: You're right. I'm actually trying to get with a cute guy so I can make *him* not lonely anymore. Duh
Boris: I think dating is bad.
Leah: Look out! Boris is on his date hate again!
Boris: Oh, please.
Leah: Back to the Molly thing, I have time during the day
Boris: We'll see.
Now Boris felt really guilty. In another life, maybe the triplets would be able to enjoy a day together and become closer, but this was real life. He couldn't be happy like that.
For now.
Lowering his phone, he stared at the dark silhouette of the German shepherd beside him, breathing softly as his round cheek pressed against the hot seat. I hate that I dragged you into this. You're the last animal that deserves to be here. We've both been through things and throwing my problems onto you is wrong. You could have left while I was sleeping. Why didn't you try to run?
Boris knew this new thought would haunt him. The doors were locked now, but Tyler could unlock them since he was inside. He could have slipped out while Boris was visiting Absalom. Tyler could have even turned him in. So, why didn't he?
And as much as I don't want you to be here . . . The otter held his dark hands in front of his face, barely able to see the outline of them. He squeezed them into fists. I have to kill you. It makes sense, right? Right? One life to save many. It's an old dilemma. The sacrifice just happened to be you. Boris's stomach did somersaults, and he felt his heart rate increase. I'm not insane to think this way, right, Tyler? You understand.
"Dude, quit starin' at me," Tyler groaned, causing Boris to nearly jump out of his pelt. It had been so quiet that the sudden sound of his voice was like a booming in the otter's tiny ears.
"I . . . thought you were asleep," Boris whispered.
"Yeah, I'm sleeping so well being kidnapped and knowing my grandfather is . . ." The memory of that bloody scene played in his mind: The blade, the blood pooling under him, Tyler's own panic attack.
"'I'm sorry doesn't mean anything,' I know," Boris said. "It's aggravating. That's all I can think to say."
"Well, you're right about one of those things. It doesn't mean anything. He's already dead," Tyler said. ". . . I have a question."
"What is it?" Boris asked, eyes blinking in the black.
"Why did you do that? Calm me down when I was freaking out?"
Boris sighed, rubbing his cheek against the seat. "I know it's unlike me, Tyler, and I know you'll never believe me again, but I still care about you. Everything I did before to get better, that's still me. I want you to know that even if you always turn your back on me, I'm going to be here."
"Ugh!" Tyler practically threw his body to face the other way. "Stop it!"
"What?"
"Stop saying shit like that! You're a killer! I can't be friends with you! You were getting better, but this kinda destroys all that effort, don'tcha think?"
Boris withered. "No. I know that I'm still good. And I know I'm alone in thinking that. I just have some bad luck right now, but once it's over--"
"Over?" Tyler interrupted. "When will this be over? Does possession just go away?"
"I honestly don't know." He's right, Boris thought. I don't even know if I'll be free after all of this, but it's my only hope.
"It's twenty fucking kills, Boris. That isn't just something that goes away. Even if the bodies are removed and stuff, you can't remove your mind. It'll stay with you."
"I refuse to admit that I'm stuck forever," Boris disputed. "I just can't do it. I can't let go of myself and become this thing forever. Why does everyone else deserve to be happy and I don't? Why does it have to be me? I desire love and friends as much as anyone else, but the world keeps running me over again and again. I'm tired of it."
Tyler exhaled, long and hard. He slowly rotated to look at him. ". . . You're an amazing actor."
"Wh-what?"
"All this pity party talk!" Tyler hissed. "That must be how you serial killers trick innocent animals like me! So I'll become your accomplice or something!"
"Are you crazy?!" Boris choked. "I would never ask that of you!"
"You basically did when you brought me along!"
"Then why are you still here!?" Boris roared. "Why didn't you leave?!" Tyler went silent at that, the air around them gaining a slight chill. Boris gave him a few moments, and when the dog said nothing, he said, "Well?"
". . . Shut up," the German shepherd answered.
"There has to be some reason," Boris pressed further.
Tyler crossed his arms. "I'm going to sleep."
The otter moved his cheek against the car seat, unable to get comfortable. "So am I, then."
There was no response after that.
The first thing Boris saw when he opened his eyes again was the blue sky and puffy white clouds that had been the regular lately in Austin. He looked to the right, and, sure enough, the German shepherd was still there, scrolling around on his phone.
"Are you telling all your followers that you got kidnapped?" Boris joked though it was a twisted one.
"No," Tyler answered. "I haven't posted in a while."
"That's strange. You were always the online presence of the band," Boris said.
"Kinda a bad time for that, don't you think? And what about your phone? You don't think they're gonna track you or something? I'm surprised they're not already here."
"Oh," Boris answered. "Absalom will make it so they can't track us with our phones. I'm sure it takes almost none of his power."
"So he can control technology?" Tyler questioned. "But he also has the mirror thing."
"I'm not quite sure of all his abilities, myself," the otter said. ". . . Have you told anyone what happened?" Boris tried.
"Nope."
The otter didn't press further, though he felt a constant knocking in his brain that screamed WHY?! He sat up and adjusted the seat, looking around to make sure no one had been watching them. "Are you hungry?"
"Yeah," Tyler answered, with no feeling.
"I just planned to get food from here," Boris said. "You can choose if you want . . . ."
"Glad it's my choice," Tyler huffed, pulling the lever so his seat would go back to its original position.
"Really! I'm fine with anything," Boris smiled.
"Thank you for your permission, Your Majesty," Tyler growled lowly with these words. "I'm gonna get the food alone, though." He opened the door and pushed it, the loud squeaking never ceasing to grate on Boris.
"I don't know if that's a good idea," Boris declared. Tyler was already stepping out, and Boris' seat wasn't even in its original position yet.
"Don't care," the shepherd answered, shutting the door and walking off.
Boris considered going after him, but a voice stopped him. "You shouldn't," Absalom stated, and Boris's head moved to look at the rearview mirror, seeing his bloody fur that only appeared in the reflection, along with his dark eyes. "The dog will return."
"But why?" Boris looked out the window at the absconding canine.
"I'm unsure myself," the pseudo said. "But I have a feeling."
"Do you think he knows?"
"I'm not certain of that, either."
Boris blinked. "What does this Amaranthe Snowe look like?"
"He's a white wolf with a penchant for having fun," Absalom informed.
"Fun? You're making me kill him because he has fun?" Boris frowned.
"I'm making you kill him because I said so."
Boris grunted. ". . . At least I don't know him, I guess. Where is this rave, anyway?"
"At a bar called the Lowball."
Boris exhaled, resting back in the seat. "Downtown. You don't make this easy."
"So what, rich boy?" Absalom hissed. "I've chosen my target. You already know your body is sacred to me."
"Disturbing," Boris shuddered.
"Tell me, why do you wear that suit?" Absalom asked. "I don't understand why mortals feel the need to show their class. Though, I am happy that my vessel is the son of a rich man. It makes things much easier."
Boris looked down at himself, remembering that he had put a suit back on after showering at Downing Manor. "It's not because I want to flaunt my money. It's just what I'm comfortable with. I don't really like showing my fur."
"Well, you won't fit into a rave like that," Absalom chuckled. "And neither will the dog."
"His name is Tyler."
"The dog will need to be informed that it's a rave, as well."
"How do you know what a rave is like?" Boris questioned, meeting the reflection's eyes.
"I used to be a lot more powerful than I am now and I've lived since the beginning. I evolve with the times. I was there for the beginning of raves."
Boris ran his hands down his face. "Fine. I'll wear something else if that's the easiest way to get in. I'll tell Tyler, too."
"Better get inside and change, little puppet," Absalom said with a smile. "And find the dog, too."
"Yeah, yeah," Boris said, unbuckling his seatbelt.
Inside Walrus-Mart, Boris found Tyler relatively easily, skulking around the bakery section where the smell of bread and sweets hung in the air. The typical grocery store chill wrapped around his body. "Tyler," he said, walking up to him.
The German shepherd looked up from a contained piece of chocolate cake he was holding. "Why did you come in?"
Boris looked around anxiously. "Well . . . in the car . . . I got my next target, and . . . there's a dress code."
Tyler didn't move. "What?"
The otter rubbed his own arm gently. "It's at a rave."
The canine inhaled, then exhaled. "Great. The first time I go to a rave, and it's for some lunatic reason."
"You've never been?"
"I wanted to go with Nick, but we never got around to it."
"I thought it would be completely your thing," Boris said.
"Stop trying to be friends with me," the other animal answered.
"Erm, does that mean I can't ask you for assistance with rave wear?"
"Ugh. I hate how you talk," Tyler spat.
"Excuse me?"
"That elegant, pompous, rich way of talking, dude."
"This is just my voice, Tyler," Boris stated.
"Well, it really shows where you came from."
"So, will you help me or not?" Boris crossed his arms.
"Nope." Tyler continued looking at baked goods, tuning the other animal out.
The otter huffed and spun on his heel. "Does that mean I need to take advice from you?" he asked Absalom.
"Since I don't feel like watching you struggle to figure it out, I'll help," the voice in his head answered.
Boris sighed. "Since you know what raves are like, just pick things out for me since I have no idea where to start."
"With pleasure."
Now in the fitting room, Boris looked at himself in the mirror, a frown plastered upon his face. "It's these moments where I wish you didn't replace my original reflection."
"Well, I can see you," Absalom said. "It looks just as I imagined. Just look down."
Boris did so. "No. I can't wear this!"
"You must."
"I can't! I don't wear shorts. I look absurd!"
"It doesn't matter. It will get you in, which is what matters."
The otter rubbed his bare shoulders. "No sleeves? I feel disgusting and cold."
"You do as I say, puppet," Absalom hissed. "Wear this, go to the rave, kill Amaranthe Snowe."
Boris looked at his shoes, which were now purple open-toed flip-flops. "And these are so uncomfortable."
"You won't need to wear them once you're inside." There was a sound from outside. A soft clicking, low creaking, as well as a few steps. "The dog is out," Absalom said. "Show him."
"I really don't want to . . . ." Boris shook his head. The funny feeling went to his arms, and he opened the lock, pushing the door open and stepping out. There was a tingling in his legs, and suddenly, his feet were stepping one by one, the flip-flops making a flapping sound.
Tyler turned his head, right hand dropping to his side while his left held bright and colorful clothing. "What's with all the spacey patterns?" He gestured to Boris's attire with its pinks and purples, white stars, and swirling galaxies. "And I've never thought you'd wear chanclas in your life."
"Excuse me?"
"The Spanish word for flip-flops," Tyler said. ". . . . It's sick. You go all out when you kill, huh?"
"I didn't choose this!" Boris hissed. "I didn't! I just want to get this over with." His hands curled into fists. "And why the fuck are you still here?!"
"You're the one who kidnapped me!" Tyler shouted back.
"And any intelligent animal would leave the first chance they got or fight back! What are you doing?!"
"I don't know!" The German shepherd stamped his foot, and a nearby employee looked over at the scene they were causing. "I don't know why the fuck I'm still here!"
"Then leave, if you want to!" Boris exclaimed, fire in his eyes. I'll find you again.
Tyler stood still like ice had covered his feet, pinning him to the ground. "Let's just get in the car. Muffins are in the fitting room."
Boris stopped, blinking. "What?"
Now, Tyler moved, returning and grabbing the small plastic container that held four sweet treats. "Come on. Get changed so we can pay for this stuff."
The otter couldn't comprehend what he was hearing. The door was open, and Tyler wasn't sprinting out, screaming. He was firm about staying, and Boris had no idea why. What he did know was that he had a rave to go to and, whether Tyler was there or not, his next target would be dead that night.