Imagine this scenario:

Two whumpees are in a room together. Their hands are bound behind them and connected to loops in the floor. They wear collars that constrict when pulled on and loosen when there’s slack. The collars are connected to each other, pulled taut through another loop on the floor between them.

In order for Whumpee A to breathe, B has to lean back and pull on their collar, which chokes them, and vice-versa. Each time one of them leans forward to breathe, they’re pulling on their wrists, chafing them bloody. They can’t lie down like this, and there’s no relief until one of them loses consciousness.

“Not. Real.”

Back and forth.

Her eyes glazed over. Knees hugged close to her chest. Her teeth chewed on dry, cracked, and bleeding lips. This wasn’t the sunshine he remembered. Everything looked the same. Her little fairy kisses were in the same place, splashed across her nose and cheeks in haphazard fashion. Her curls were still the wild, bouncy curls he loved to wrap around his fingers.

“All in my imagination, right? Don’t need to sleep. Don’t need medicine. Not real.” 

But Zizi was gone. The light that had guided him out of so many dark places, was gone. Where was it? Where had it gone?

“Zizi.”

She flinched, giving him the first reaction to he’d seen from her since they’d entered this room ten minutes ago. 

Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. She rocked, eyes on the wall. And he couldn’t help but look to where she was staring but he saw nothing. He wasn’t surprised. 

“Zizi,” he tried again. Stepped closer. This time she flinched. Scrambled backward,chest heaving, her eyes wide. Hands spread out in front of her face.

Defensive.

Terrified.

Expecting punishment. Expecting him to…hit… her.

“Zizi. No,” he whispered. She was expecting him to hit her. When had he ever hit her? She shook her head, hugging herself again.

Tighter. Back and forth.

Then, a whimper, “Not. Real.”

She squeezed her eyes closed. Sobbed. Opened them again. Looked at him. Through him. 

He took another step forward. She moved up against the wall, feet kicking the blankets, the pillows, all of the bedding towards him. There wasn’t anywhere she could run. 

“He’sgoingtobesomadifhethinksimtalkingtoyouI’mnottalkingtoyoubecaseyou’renotreal,” she choked out a half-sob, half-laugh, “Not real, Zeria. Not real. How can you love someone that doesn’t exist, Zeria? Are you crazy?” 

He’s close to the bed now. Mikara and Lee stay by the door, glancing over every so often. Uneasy. Lee held the sedative but none of them wanted to use it. It was a last resort. 

She stands on the bed. Jumps off. Starts to pace, hands clenching and unclenching in the folds of her shirt. 

“Notcrazynotcrazynotcrazynotcrazy,” she shook her head, lips quivering, “Not crazy. Not supposed to talk to you anymore. Not real.”

“Zizi. Majesty.” Mikara stepped forward. Closer. Zeria backed away. Dropped down to the floor. Hands over her head.

Shaking.

“Guys,” Lee snapped, “We don’t have time for this. We’ve gotta go.”

Taron takes a deep breath, pushes past Mikara. Bends down and meets her eyes.

“Zizi,” he tried to keep the desperation out of his voice. The heartache. This wasn’t her. This wasn’t his girl. His queen. She didn’t act like this. 

She was fearless.

He grabbed her arm.

She screamed. 

And screamed.

And screamed.

It was raw. Primal. Desperate and gut wrenching. Taron felt his blood run cold, heart thudding, adrenaline coursing through him. Fight or flight. Stand or run. Hero or coward. NO.He threw his hands over his ears. Mikara jumped back, hands up, curled into fists.

“I’m sorry to do this to you, Princess,” Lee shouted over the screams as best as she could. She shoved the needle into Zeria’s arm. Caught her before she hit the ground, scooping her up and glared at Mikara and Taron, “Let’s go.”

“No, that’s not it…”

Damien rubbed at his eyes and set the quill against the parchment again, letting the ink bleed onto the parchment. Candlelight flickered over the large tome he had sitting out and the page he’d been doing… well. Whatever it was he was doing. Odd symbols covered the page, and a second book about elemental magic sat next to the page, wax dripping on the pages. A strange glass was resting on the elemental book, more symbols popping up on the glass.

“Maybe…”

Damien drew a new sigil on the paper, then gasped, dropping the quill and hitting the ink-pot in his scramble to steady himself. Something called to him, filling his ears and making his head ache like someone had dropped an anvil on it. His vision blurred-

Then all at once it was gone.

He stared at the paper, grinning. Another research finished, another-

The lightbulb switched on.

“Dude, you alright?” Damien’s apartment mate asked. “You suddenly yelled-”

“I’m fine,” Damien interrupted, looking down at his ink-stained shirt. “Just a headache.”

“You’re getting those more often… you sure you’re alright? You forgot to eat again.”

Damien looked at his roommate, sighing.

“I’ll be fine. I’m sure of it.”

Liar, the little voice that told him secrets hissed. Damien ignored it. His roommate stared at him for a second, then looked away.

“There’s chicken nuggets when you’re hungry. Don’t stay up all night again.”

“Yeah. I won’t. I’m sure.”

Behind Damien, the ink continued to flow, staining the carpet a deep purple. Neither person noticed as something started to move in the ink.

*****