9. When Lights Are Off

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And when the darkness invades, you feel like the only one. You feel empty, dark, and hollow. You know you've lost, but you're still trying to win.

*****

More dreams haunted him that night. It was like two weeks ago, all over again. But on steroids.

In his sleep, he saw the decapitated head of his mother dancing around in mid air, roaches and rats crawling in and out of her mouth. He saw himself back on the operating table, the hammer resting on his cracked skull, eyes peering into his brain.

He saw Eddie's body dead in a forest, an odd, ancient looking weapon putruding from his chest. Seeing his body so still, so lifeless... It was a sight that made Finn's heart pound from both fear and sadness.

And then he woke up. The feeling that washed over him was one of complete and utter uneasiness; the feeling of being watched was now at its peak. And he hated it.

On the floor, there was a pile of paper. Not just normal notebook paper- this stuff looked like it was as old as the Constitution. There were so many pieces, just like there had been so many rats. Finn had a feeling the same person who left those had left these.

He slowly crept towards them. He thought that they may crumble to the touch, but they didn't. He snapped the light on, and held it to where he could read it.

You weren't fast enough.

His eyes widened, and he picked up another piece.

You weren't fast enough.

Finn tossed the paper aside, and found himself recklessly rummaging through the others. They all said the same thing. And pretty soon, so did that highpitched voice. That highpitched voice that exploded like an atom bomb in his head.

You weren't fast enough. You weren't fast enough, you weren't fast enough.

And Finn put his head into his hands. And he thought about Mr. Alva, he thought about the girl, he thought about all the dreams.

He thought about the notes.

He wasn't fast enough. So they- the girl, Mr. Alva, the doctor, whoever- would make him go back.

*******

Allison looked like she had seen some shit. Finn was sure he knew why. He wished he could talk to her, figure things out, but she just seemed so fragile right now.mTravis and Elaine looked perfectly normal- they just sat there at the cafeteria and ate crappy food like every day.

Eddie still wasn't here. His face hadn't been seen in two weeks. Finn remembered his dead body in the woods, that weapon protruding from his gut. He shuddered at the thought.

He looked over at Allison. "You ok?"

Allison nodded a little too quickly. "I'm fine. Really. Some weird dreams. Sleep deprived. That's it."

The stare Finn offered her was one off complete seriousness.

"What the hell is happening, Allison? I know you've been going through some shit, because so have I!" Finn ignored the weird looks he got, and just kept going. "Rats? You talked about that at McDonald's! Have you seen roaches? Because I sure as hell have!"

Allison was shaking in her seat. "Finn-"

"Ever since we left that...that store, my life has been ridiculous. Either someone is out to get me, or I'm going insane. Because it's been like something has been destroying my brian! I'm changing- and it isn't my fault!"

"Dude?" Travis whispered. "The hell you talking about?"

"You were in the store, too? Why didn't anything like this happen to you?" Was his reply.

"I have no idea-"

"Everything ok here, boys?"

Finn's head whipped around, and his eyes widened. There stood Mr. Alva, all decked out in his emerald green robes.

Finn sunk down in his chair. He felt defenseless.

"Oh, you're back!" Travis exclaimed. "I love that shirt. I had no clue any teacher could be into Family Guy!"

Mr. Alva smiled at him. It was fake, just like Robert's.

"It is quite the barrel of laughs. Now, please keep the noise down. I'll see you kids later- subbing your math class."

Finn watched as Alva walked to the teacher's table. He exchanged a glance with Allison, who looked like she was ready to piss her pants.

He saw Mr. Alva sit down and take a sip of a coke. He winked at Finn, smirking.

Then every light in the room snapped off.

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