This choice: Point the pen at Ashley, see what happens • Go Back...Chapter #7The Helpful Hero by: Nostrum   Though the idea of wearing that skin makes you hot and bothered, you wouldn’t be any different from the creep that stands inches near you, just as deflated. Even if you only want to wear her for a couple minutes, you need to make sure she can be recovered. If she can’t, well...
You lay her flat, face up, on her bed and straighten her clothes so that they fit exactly where they should. You don’t even peek, though curiosity gnaws at you. As you point the pen at her, you hope for the best – you hope you’re not holding a weapon that will erase people from existence forever.
You click the pen, watching everything carefully. You notice a distortion coming from it – a beam, almost transparent pale blue – touching the skin, but nothing seems to happen. You bite your lip, fearing the effect is irreversible, when you notice the skin twitching. Soon, it starts to inflate; you lean closely, noticing how the eyes bulge from the empty sockets before the lids clamp them shut. The skin – no, Ashley – twitches uncomfortably, the clothes filled and stretched by the bulk of her returning muscles.
The entire process is mesmerizing, but you’re relieved the process can be reversed. You’re not a monster, after all. But you’re unsure if you want to try the whole thing ever again.
You need to check if she’s well, so you hover your fingers upon her chest and her nose. To your relief, she breathes, though it’s labored. You step away, feeling she needs rest, but as you turn your back towards her, your shoes tap the empty, naked skin of the creep. In desperation, you kneel to gather it, and just as you’re doubling your step to escape with it, you hear the groans of the girl.
“Ugh...”
You heave the creep’s skin – his thing dangling near your armpit – on one of your shoulders and struggle to open the door, forgetting you had locked it previously. Just as you open it, you hear Ashley’s screech from behind you, making you scream as well.
“Aah!”
“Yikes!”
“Who are you?” she screams, moving to her vanity to check whatever she could use to defend herself. “If you don’t tell me, I’m going to call the police!”
You turn out, lifting your arms, and the creep’s skin – with its rank smell and its unnerving texture, something between flesh and rubber – slides near your lips, prompting you to drop it.
“Gyaah!” Ashley leaps to her bed, pointing at the mound of flesh that just dropped from you. “What’s that? What the hell’s that!? You better tell me, or I’m going to crack open your skull and--!”
“Let me explain!” you yelp, back to the door but fixated on her. “I know this’s gonna sound impossible, but this... thing over here just tried to... uh, actually, he did it already, but I stepped in and saved you!”
“You... did?” Ashley scratches her scalp, sitting on her bed. “I mean – I'm here, at my house, when I was supposed to wait for...” She shakes her head, groaning as she presses her skull – does she have a headache? “All I know is, I faint, and now, I’m here.” She looks at the creep’s skin with dread, her face turning a sickly green. “What’s that you were holding?”
“I still don’t get it, but... It was a guy. I overheard him – he seems to know you and said something about you ruining his life.”
“Ruining his life?” As she said that, her eyes opened wide; she began coughing as she choked on whatever she was holding back. (Bile, perhaps?) “Oh God. I think I know that guy.”
“That’s how I heard your name, by the way. I’m, uh... a neighbor. You, uh... probably know my dad.”
“Do I?”
“Yeah. Paul Anderson.”
“Paul... Paul...” Ashley shakes her head, mumbling. “No. Doesn’t ring a bell.”
“Anyways - I see this guy creeping in, and I see him holding something, and I thought it was some sort of camera, but then...” You timidly grab the guy’s skin, holding it from the tear on his back. “You deflated, and became something like... well, like this.”
“Oh God, no. What did he want with me?”
“He...” Now you feel bile rising from your stomach, thinking about the way he touched her breasts, driven by lust. “Well, he put you on. Like a costume or something.”
“He...” She coughs again, and after dashing into the inside bathroom, you hear heaves and hurks, and deep coughs. Blowing up her nose, you see her step outside, completely horrified. “God. What did he do with me?”
“Nothing,” you point out. “I followed you here – well, I followed him here – and when I had the chance, I... uh, used the same thing he used on you to turn you into... uh, a costume. He was about to get inside, but got distracted, and then--”
“That’s enough.” She stumbles near you, still sickened. “That’s... enough.” She approaches the skin, touching it with utter disgust; she snaps away as the face turns, and you see the fear in her eyes. “Yeah. That’s him. That’s the bastard.”
“I heard he accused you of ruining his life.”
“Should’ve known the moment he tried going fresh with me.” Ashley steps into her bed, closing her eyes. “Look - knowing this asshole was stalking me is scary enough. I don’t wanna revive what happened.”
“Sure, uh, sure...” You move your hand closer to the knob, seeking an opportunity to escape. “So, can I leave now? I’m sure you’ll want some space.”
“One more thing.” She looks at you, terrified but defiant. “You said he used something to turn me into...” She stretches her finger, shyly pointing it at the mound of flesh. “...that.”
“Uh... Yeah.”
“I wanna see it.”
You feel your heart racing. “W-Why!?”
“Let me see it.” Her voice, coarse from all the dread she vomited yet still dwelt in her stomach, feels threatening.
“If you want, I can show it to you another day.”
“I don’t trust you.” You see her standing, her anger fighting her dread; even standing near her former tormentor did nothing to dissuade her. “I’m not saying you’re trying to trick me, but I don’t know what you want to do with that thing. You’re still at my house – I can always call the police.”
You want to retort with “I can always turn you back into a skin”, but that’s just cruel. You try a more diplomatic approach. “Listen - I don’t know how it works or what it is, but I’m just as scared that someone could use it on me.”
“Kid,” she says, though it’s obvious you’re not one anymore. “Please. I can store it somewhere safe – and rest assured, the least I want to do is use it. I’d prefer it destroyed if I could, but I’d prefer someone knowledgeable to see it before. Someone I can trust.”
“I agree,” you say, skirting with honesty. Something within you wants to push back – something sinister. But you fight the feeling, trying to reason with her. “Which is why it’d be better in my hands.”
“I’m not asking you for it. I’m telling you to give it. I promise I won’t use it, but I can’t let you have it. You know what happened to me. You think I’d use it just because?”
You try to push, but she’s got a point. You know she won’t use it. You know she’ll destroy it. And yet, that’s safer than someone else stealing it from your room and using it on you – or on your family. And it looks like a pen, so anyone could confuse it with one.
You draw the pen, reluctantly handing it to her. “Here. That’s the thing he used.”
“How does it work?”
“Just... uh...” You eye her with suspicion. “Better not to tell you.”
“Alright.” She grabs the pen and immediately stores it in one of her drawers – one full of tchotchkes, including pens, near her bed. “I hold it, but you know the trick. That way, no one can take advantage of it.”
“Can I leave now? I promised my mom--”
“Sure, sure...” She grabs her loins, still horrified. “Go. And... thanks.”
You’re about to leave when you notice the mound of flesh sitting on her floor. “What about that?”
“I’ll keep it. It’ll be somewhere safe – I promise. You can go now.”
You strongly feel that she doesn’t want you to be there, and you comply. That thing was unnerving for both of you, and the last thing you want is for her to call the police for unlawful entry. You definitely don’t want that on your record.
--
Though you still lament that she kept the pen, you try to forget about it. It’s too tempting, stealing the life of someone else, without a care for their well-being. You spend the night, and the next night, trying to tell yourself you did the right thing. You even ponder paying a visit, see if she’s doing well, and check if she disposed of the pen or the creep that tried to steal her life.
You certainly didn’t expect her to visit you.
You’re doing your homework with the windows open when you notice Claire on the door. “Hey, Dave, there’s this woman looking for you – or Nick, but she couldn’t tell. She just said, ‘I’m looking for your brother’, and you’re the only one here.”
“Alright.” You dash downstairs, only to see Ashley standing at the door. “Uh... Hi.”
“Oh, thank the Lord you’re here! Listen – I need your help.”
“On?”
“I’ll tell you on the way, but...” She looks over her shoulders, her eyes showing the same fear with which you left her. “I don’t want to do this alone.”   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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