Beyond The Frights

False Alarm

Detective Larson had gotten Nicer... Nicer wasn't the word. He was being more careful around him. Even if it had only been a few days... Greg could tell. It wasn't difficult to catch. He would frequently ask if He was Okay, if He Needed Anything; He would take back any suggestion he noticed Greg wasn't too Fond of. When Greg couldn't bring himself to find any book interesting for Larson's idea to try Reading in their Spare Time, he immediately put a Hard Cover of Odyssey back onto the shelf and Never brought it up again. If Greg appeared Bored or Slightly Annoyed by the Nature Documentaries Larson put on as Background Noise, he would turn it off or change the Channel. Greg was convinced he would've re-cooked Dinner if he looked at it Funny.

He was more concerned than when they first Met, only in the way his Demeanor appeared far more... Nervous... It wasn't difficult to figure out Why Either. Larson knew about Every Single Time he was at the Brink of Death... All of them... Even the ones that seemed Impossible to Predict. After what happened with Eleanor... He ended up like this... and He despised it-

Maybe Despised was a Strong Word. He still liked the Detective; He was Nice, Intelligent, he was a better quick Thinker than Greg could ever be in a Horrific Situation... and He knew it was all to make him feel Better... and some of it did... but it also didn't. He didn't get it. He understood it and couldn't comprehend it at the same time. He didn't deserve... whatever this was... Respect... Kindness... He shouldn't have gotten it. He remained Silent for nearly every second of the Day, and he was fine with it. He couldn't bring Himself to do anything besides Sticking to his Thoughts and Staring out Windows, and he was fine with it. He... couldn't save someone. He let someone Die, multiple Die... and he was Fine with it. It was all a Reminder of what he did, and how much Larson didn't even Blink an Eye to it. He should have. He shouldn't be- His Father would've never been Okay with that, no matter how much Pain he went through. He would've gotten what he deserved, what he should've deserved. He should be... His brain was messing with him. He knew it in his Heart, but he couldn't Stop it.

It got worse when Larson eventually had to Leave. He couldn't stay Home forever... At least Larson gave a Sense of Stability when he was around. He wasn't sure why, but he felt more Grounded... He would sometimes Speak... or Eat... or feel Happy... Being Alone made those Thoughts come out... The Fear... The Guilt... Ones even Worse... and He would always get himself to believe they were completely Rational. He would Fidget Constantly, pull at the Ends of his Hair... Become Unable to stop crying and Screaming at himself Internally to Stop since he didn't Deserve the Privilege to... Larson caught him like that one time. He Hugged him... He felt Disgusted that his Body Controlled itself to Hug him back... It was a Constant Switch from the Two. A Blank Slate of Pathetic Sadness when the Detective sits in the same Room as him... Then staring at the Ceiling of his Bed hoping his Body Collapses to Sleep before the Last Light Goes Out and Larson leaves Consciousness... The Cycle only Repeated.

He sat on his Bed, gripping onto the Edge to keep himself still... Any other movement felt like it would Break him... but He deserved to be Broken, didn't he- No... No... He didn't want this... He hated this... All of it. The Kindness, the Hatred, the Fear, the Weeping... He wanted it to End. He needed something to End it... Something to Distract it... He hadn't had anything Help him Stray away from the Thoughts... What helped him last time... Devon. Devon had... It was... in a Stupid way... but it stopped them for a Moment... Many Moments...

He looked out the Window, hoping to catch a bit of Gold through the Colors of Red, Orange, Dark Purple, and Yellows, but Nothing like Devon... He wasn't sure why he expected Devon to Hang around this place when he couldn't even remember the Last thing He said to Him... but he had to be in there Somewhere... It wouldn't hurt to look, or maybe it would... and nothing was making him find the idea worrying. Larson wouldn't like it. He knew that much... But Larson wasn't there to stop anything. He could check for a Few Hours... He should've been Thanking Him for what happened anyway... He saved his Life... What else could he do? Stay sat on the Bed forever? Let his Body march to the Front Door without ever letting his hand graze on the Handle to Open it? Waste away his time until Death knocked on the Door? He didn't want that...