The 6 Greatest Errors of All Time | ✓

XXVIII. crash the plane

HIS LIMBS INFLATED till his fifteen year old bones and flesh met with the skin of the hostess of this body. Outwards he exhaled a sound barely audible to the human ears. His eardrums echoed a tingling beat in the back of his head, like a drum setting off in the deepest section of his skull.

It was like God had given him a new set of dark eyes. Eyes that belonged a few minutes ago to a fair lady he knew by the alias of Venus. Most days, for years in actuality that had passed, he studied the images she obtained through her pair of lenses like motion pictures in a cinema. How she had grown up, who she had acquainted with, what perilous journeys she took part in. He absorbed it all like a daydream too dark to become true, yet too true to become nothing.

Then it all came too soon. Like a father releasing his son on a bicycle too fast or a mother dropping her daughter off at school too early— he was both the son and the daughter. His mind was of a young male child, yet his new skin was of a teen female's. He felt guilty in his chest. His awareness of the explanation behind his existence made him feel very wrong to live in her body. Her skin could be worn by no one but her, not even the alters in her mind.

He was going to get caught. It wasn't like people didn't know of DID. The concern was, how many people would just accept your answer if you told them the reason why you were behaving differently in just a split second, was because you had multiple personalities?

No one would. People who did try to keep an open mind would always be skeptical and distance themselves. It was the natural response of humans to roam in the desert of 'same,' and dry out the oasis of 'different.'

He was the different that shouldn't be here. This wasn't and will never be his timeline. Those men in black uniform cocking their magazines in and firing ammunition blindly into the air shouldn't be his world. Unlike Venus who could lead a team on her shoulders, he would lead their whole system to the grave instead because of his incapabilities.

Fear and inexperience rooted his feet to the ground. The slippers' thin rods under the heel of his feet felt like it would pierce through his flesh any second. Forget trying to run away with these on, he'd literally break her waist and kill them both.

His eyes were ripped wide open when two bullets swirled through the air. One bounced off the other and deflected to the wall behind him. The one that served as the opposing force shifted direction downwards. In a blink of an eye, it cut deeply into his skin, spraying blood up like a blood bath.

Imagine waking up in the middle of the night with a psychopath in your room that already had his machete arched in your abdomen. That was what he pictured, because his eyes blurred everything else with the shortening of his breath.

You'd think that was the end of it. That it was expected he'd pass out and let fate juggle his survival card. But being shot at, even stabbed at, wasn't like that at all. The adrenaline from the sting and the reality and abruptness of the pain brought you to a state of mind clearer than the truth.

He suddenly had the will to live. Thoughts cycled through his mind millions by millions each millisecond. Biting down his lower lip to cover up the pain of his gash, he spotted a Japanese boy in the room as well that he was all but too familiar with. Someone who's history traveled four years back with him.

The twelve year old boy had a ghastly expression that clouded his facial features. His chest rose and fell rapidly like he had been talking too fast for too long. Only... it merely seemed like that, because while J.J. saw his friend's top and bottom lip separating and closing animatedly, there was no sound coming out.