“I Will Possess Your Heart” by Death Cab for Cutie from Narrow Stairs
He placed his hand tentatively on the glass. Expecting cold, he shuddered to find it warm to the touch. Not hot. Just warm. Almost…comfortingly so.
Beneath the barrier, it coursed, twisted, pulsed. Both thick and thin, somehow. Like dark mercury. Pooling, stretching, filling the space, then retracting tiny in the blink of an eye.
In his head, he swore he could hear it. Whispering. Almost singing. Telling tales. Sharing memories. Making promises.
He could remember the rush. The feeling of the world all around them…no him, not them. Feeling every molecule on his skin and still being protected from them.
The power. The feeling of strength. Of dominance. Of being fully himself. Or being free to act as he wanted without limitations. No rules, no morality. Just ascended to his rightful place as a—
No. Those were lies. Like a drug, making him think and see what wasn’t there. Imagine himself to be something he wasn’t.
The sounds. Cracking. Screams. Groans. Begging. So much fear of them… him. Him.
At other moments, the draw. The compulsion others seem to have to him. Being able to take whatever they—he—wanted and being virtually thanked for it. The deference. The desire. The appreciation.
Remember it whispered. Part inquiry, part demand, part promise.
Temptation mingles with adrenaline in his blood. He wanted to be free. Didn’t he? But what was more free. This? Or them, together, being recognized for what they truly are.
Him…he…not them. He knows that. Must not dilute responsibility. The therapist said that.
The therapist doesn’t get it. He wasn’t just him. They were them. Only together were they what they meant to be.
The code flits through his mind. Impossible for him to know but there nonetheless. So easy. Just type the code in. Release it. Become them once more. Become what they were always intended.
No rules. No morality. Just them taking, acting, doing whatever they want.
Just five digits.
His hand shakes. His arm reaches.
So easy. So easy.