HEAD. - An Inanimate Insanity Fanfic

CHAPTER 2 - By God's Grace

-------------------------------

OJ stirs in bed, mumbling as a voice blasts in his left ear.

"OJ! OJ! Wake up!!"

He groans, sitting as he rubs his eyes.

"Great! You're finally awake! You were muttering in your sleep. I was getting sick of it."

"Huhaah? Wuah? Taco..? How are you in my head..?"

"You dolt! Don't you remember ANYTHING from yesterday?"

"Mm.."

OJ thinks for a moment, still clearing away the remnants of his nap. It eventually comes back to him, mostly the important parts and the fire.

"Oh yeah. Yeah, I remember..."

"Great! Today, you're going to be getting rid of Balloon!"

"Already..?" The glass object begins to move the covers off of him, standing from bed as the floor creaks.

"Yes, now! He's in his room sleeping, currently. It will be easy for you to kill him."

OJ gives a silent nod, having forgotten Taco couldn't see him through the earpiece. Unless she was looking through the windows? That was probably the better answer.

OJ shuffles to the door, swinging it open lightly, making sure it doesn't hit the wall as it does. He begins to tiptoe down the hall.

"...You're going the wrong way."

"Oh. Right..."

He turns around, continuing to sneak as he passes his room.

"Did you even grab a weapon?"

"Uh- No. Sorry."

He moves back into his room.

"Try for something sharp."

"Okay..."

The boy's hands sift through his desk, until he pricks himself on something. He pulls his hand away.

"Ow!"

"It's just a feathered pen, you're fine."

"Hhh..." OJ looks to his finger, which holds back blood past its callused skin. His eyes shift back down to the perpetrator, of which he picks up. He remembered this pen. In its golden sheen. Writing the first documents for the hotel. "......"

He best hurry. It is, after all, time consuming to sit here reliving such foggy thoughts. That was years ago.

OJ whispered to Taco beyond the radio. "....What was I supposed to do again?"

"Find Balloon in his room. Kill him."

"Right..." He utters lowly.

The glassy beverage turns to his lover, who stirred slightly in his sleep. Turning and giving soft grunts as such wrestled with the blanket. OJ turned to the far window, which still held the moon in high praise, surrounded by stars and filtering in what little light there was, coupling its blue hue with small garden lamps lining the overgrowing field of flowers and cement pathways. Moths buzzed around, attracted by their white beams.

OJ frowned, turning to the door as he warily avoided the creaking steps, gently passing through as his trembling hand touches the knob. Then, a voice.

"OJ...?" Paper murmurs, half-asleep as he wipes the crust from his eyes. "Where are you going? It's late..."

"Tell him you're getting some water."

"...Just getting some water.." He responds, trying to match Paper's soft tone.