Mumble

②⓪①⑤ - C H A P T E R : [1 0]

Warning: suggestive content, blood, gore, depiction of a panic attack. This chapter is heavy AF. If at any point you feel the need to stop reading DO SO. There will be a summary at the end. Otherwise...enjoy an almost 3k Word Chapter.

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It was a quiet evening, the setting California sun dripping down towards the sea. The limo weaved through the Malibu hills with the curving cadence of the road. To the right was harsh cliffside, high and sharp and rocky, sections of it ground into mounds of fine clay. To the left was nothing but miles of roiling Pacific waves.

It was pretty, Ozzie supposed, despite the fact that the observation seemed slightly off, like a figment born in the corner of his eye--there and gone in a blink--he couldn't quite match the thought with the feeling--or perhaps it was wiser to say there were no feelings associated with the thought. He blinked numbly out the window. That seemed more accurate. The view didn't feel pretty. It didn't feel like anything at all. It was simply...there; a static entity that garnered no emotional response.

Empty.

Ozzie's gaze was drawn back to the waves, their foamy crests smashing against the cliff face below. It wasn't calm, but that didn't make him feel anything either. It was neither invigorating or soothing. Terrifying or calming. In fact the only thing that came to mind was an image of himself flying off the side of the road, the limo suddenly spinning out of control and dragging him down to a watery grave.

Was it bad if there was a small voice in his head that sort of wished it would happen?

He continued to stare out the window, wondering if the fall would make a sound. Would there be an explosion? Would the limo crunch against the rocks? Would it simply sink into the deep? He wondered if anyone would see. He wondered if it would hurt. He wondered if anyone would care. He wondered if anyone would look. He hoped not.

Across from him, James cleared his throat, breaking the silence that seemed to seep out of every stitch, nook and cranny of the vehicle. "You, uh, look good, dude." He said.

Honestly, it was a pretty cringe worthy attempt at conversation, obviously forced and awkward, but Ozzie could appreciate the effort. Abstractly at least. Enough to maybe think about replying.

Ozzie slowly dragged his eyes away from the cliff's edge and back towards himself. He was dressed up tonight. Properly dressed up - like in a suit and tie and all that fancy stuff that Ozzie never really liked to wear no matter how well it fit. Armani. A half black and half white blazer over a dark gray button up and a matching black and white bow tie. His hair was even styled for the occasion, brushed and gelled up out of his face in a way that he knew people found flattering.

Ozzie stared at his hands, nails unpainted for the first time in... What felt like a real long time, but he knew it couldn't have been more than a few days. Or was it weeks? Months? Maybe it had been awhile. He couldn't really remember. Time had been a fuzzy, ephemeral thing lately but he was doing better now. After his episode with the good doctor. It was all in his head. Everything he thought he saw. He couldn't trust his mind anymore. The Beast wasn't real and things were a lot better. He had to believe that. For the first time since his parents death he could function.

Sort of.

But sort of was better than nothing.