It was strange the things which you compared yourself to when you had nothing better to do. This escapee had taken on the online moniker of 'Missingno', for many reasons. She felt like a bunch of scrambled pixels, captured in a ball, one that you should not go anywhere near. It was as if the walls were closing in, and the pixels getting even more of a mess, every day.

47 weeks.

Today marked forty-seven whole weeks since she managed to survive by what she called another 'glitch'; there was no way that it was possible for someone to live through so many scrapes as she had. When her old friend saw her, he was looking at a face that was all over the news channels as dead, and couldn't believe his eyes. "Just let me stay here, let me figure something out. And don't tell anyone."
"I certainly will not," he had said, his eyes lighting up. "Just let me know when you want out, Jessica. You're the most - interesting person I've ever locked up. You'll be out soon. Trust me."
She didn't bother to correct her old moniker. "How soon?"
"Soon."

That was a whole 47 weeks ago. She hadn't seen his face since.

As it was the beginning of a new week, a Sunday, it meant that it was 'stuff day'. Apart from receiving her shopping, also on Sundays - which, curiously, hadn't happened today, not that she'd thought much of it - the dreaded 'girl day' was the only change in her schedule. She both loved and hated it. At times, it was tempting to just give up, and just let nature take its course and turn her into some sort of barely recognisable sexless demon, but knew that she couldn't. Last time that she was in this confinement, she had been fighting for this identity, she couldn't just give it up. "I'm a woman" was all that she had left.

The six-foot-five, mesomorphic-but-skinny body ducked into a corner of the room, feeling too big for it, as always. She put her bag of things down, when the thoughts ran through her head. Thoughts of false hope, of nobody ever seeing her again. Much as she trusted the man who kept her safe from the world - a sad world where she only ever spoke out through vague notes on Twitter, and the only person who followed her was the strangest coincidence in the world, someone who seemed to understand her circumstances - he hadn't brought her food. This was starting to bother her, more and more; every Sunday he'd been on time, so why not this one?

She got up and walked around the room in endless circles, thinking of him. Had something happened? Was it all over? Was the only one who was even close to being a friend (discounting '?????' on Twitter, whom she felt scarily close to) gone from her life? When he looked after 'Jessica' 10 years ago, he really looked after her, always checking if she was OK. Now all he did was buy her groceries and bring her prescriptions. Could it suddenly be even less than that!?

She sighed. "Conspiracy theory," she said to herself as she sat down in the corner again. "That's what I live in-" she stopped herself before breaking into song. That was one of the things that she was never allowed to do, a big rule that she had set for this (hopefully) temporary life - it always brought back memories which were forbidden. She felt way too distracted, so she decided to just sit there and empty her mind, quietly numb her mind over. She was good at that.

Unfortunately, the next few minutes were anything BUT quiet. She heard noises. Was someone - there? Was it him? No, she heard no sounds of keys turning or locks opening. Just someone walking around in the corridors. She was more intrigued than scared - until she saw her own wall break in. She curled up, someone had found her, was looking around her room ....

.... and then he saw her.

"Raven?"

"Scott?"

Her lip trembled. Of all the situations that could possibly happen, this was one of the most absurd. Here he was, a man whom she knew was long dead, an old friend from the music industry whom she had once released a cheesy single with, looking straight at her as if she was the one who was dead. (Well, she was, but she 'died' after him, so he wouldn't know a thing.)

Regan Robbins aka. Raven Storme Comatose had been through many freaky moments - but this was up there.

OOC: This is like the Identity Crisis of the RSG. The revelation will rock the RSG world!

It could have been three minutes or three hours; Raven had, for once, lost track of time. She just sat there, looking on in wonder. Questions going through her head. What is he doing here? How is he still alive? Why did he punch my wall? How and why did he recognise me? Strangely, it was the last thing that was bugging her most. So much of Raven Storme was the outer shell, the make-up and hair stuff, and she didn't want to be known as Raven without it.

Her memories of Blood of Wecz's Scott H were fond ones. She had no idea why he'd asked her to do "Total Eclipse Of The Heart" - it didn't seem his kind of thing at all, but he had still enjoyed it. So had she - there was little that Raven did just for fun, and this was one of those things. Little-known as their cover was, she considered it one of her finest moments in the industry.

She curled up into her dress, cupped her chin in her hand and just stared. She wasn't sure whether she was waiting for him to speak, or waiting for herself to speak. Someone had to say something - the atmosphere could blunt a butcherknife.

"What are you doing here? Joshy said you were dead."

She wasn't sure which to answer first. She could easily shrug off the sentence by saying that Joshy was talking rubbish, as he does, but knew that Scott wouldn't believe it. The question was the tougher nut to crack. He could be asking so many things.

"Yes, I kinda 'died', 47 weeks ago, on my 27th birthday. I fell out of a helicopter, survived, and ran - and since I was nowhere to be seen, it was all over the news that I was dead, because nobody survives falls like that. I couldn't just walk right in and say, 'Hey, look, it's me, I'm alive and well', I wanted to figure things out first .... so I came here, and didn't leave. I'm assuming your post mortem story is similar?"

She paused, looking Scott up and down. There was a look of near-death about him, as if staying here much longer would kill him. She assumed that she looked similar. "We've got to get out of here," she said, in a whisper that echoed around the room. It wasn't something she'd ever thought about to a large extent as herself, she just assumed that 'soon' would be soon - but now that it was 'we', it suddenly mattered. She didn't want anyone else's mind tortured in the same way that hers had been.

After he asked his question, he immediately wished he hadn't. He looked at Raven, sitting in the corner, and his heart sank as he saw her eyes fill with tears. He knew what was happening, she was recalling something dark, something from her past that their meeting here...now, had dredged up. After what must have been an hour, she spoke softly,

"Yes, I kinda 'died', 47 weeks ago, on my 27th birthday. I fell out of a helicopter, survived, and ran - and since I was nowhere to be seen, it was all over the news that I was dead, because nobody survives falls like that. I couldn't just walk right in and say, 'Hey, look, it's me, I'm alive and well', I wanted to figure things out first .... so I came here, and didn't leave. I'm assuming your post mortem story is similar?"

He didn't know what to say first. Did he address her "death"? or his own? So many thoughts mashed together in his head. Why had Raven run away? Why was it that she couldn't have gone back? How did she get here? Did he tell her his own story?

In the end, he merely raised his hand to his own forehead. He forgot the stinging pain where the wood in the wall had shredded his skin until the sweat from his brow seeped into the wound. Wincing openly, he only further confused his own thoughts, plumping for only one word as his first answer to her,

"Yeah...I..." was all he could muster. No explanation, no further interrogation of her. His feeling was that this was not to be the end of that conversation. But as he moved his hand away from his now teary eyes, he saw her look up at him. Unless he was mistaken, she was surveying how he looked in this state. He knew how it was; he was skinny, bedraggled, starving and deprived of sleep. His hair looked matted and dirty, and his eyes were set deep in his skull, looking as if they scarcely belonged. He didn't want her to see him like this. He had always been the confident, brash, manly looking man with his day-old stubble and neatly shaved hair, not this skinny mess.

She herself didn't look much better. As much as it pained him to admit it, even to himself, he noticed several big changes in her. She had been glamorous, beautiful and completely stunning when he had worked with her before, although he had never told her as much. Now, here she was, the makeup was gone, the hair was tied loosely back. Bits of it hung over her tired looking face, and she had streaks on her cheek where tears had obviously regularly streamed, apparently cutting their own almost permanent channel into her skin.

His gaze was broken by her soft tone again. In any normal room it would have been drowned by even the slightest ambience, but here, in a world inhabited only by the two, it was like a foghorn in the night, and it hit him with a hard realisation.


"We've got to get out of here," came the faint voice, booming in his ears. This did something, awakened something inside him. Apart from the moment when he had attempted to go out of the door, the need to escape had never occurred to him. But now, as he saw her, and saw her fragile state, he was stirred by a new found determination.

He stepped back, drawing his face from the hole in the wall for the first time in hours, and scanned the room, looking for something heavy. He saw, three feet away, a tall light which had previously illuminated his kitchen during his midnight calendar counting. He picked the light up, and with both hands, he thrust the base towards the wall.

To his surprise, another large chunk of the wall gave way. He dropped the light, and it clunked and rolled loudly on his floor, he didn't notice. He clambered through the hole in the wall quickly, as plaster dust settled on his shoulders, in his hair, and in his eyes. Being in Raven's room, he knew immediately what to do, what he wanted to do. With all the urgency his weakened body could muster, and all the speed his malnourished legs could handle, he moved towards his friend.

Reaching out gently, he lifted her slender form to its feet. Tears welled up again as he felt how light she was. She was almost as badly malnourished as he was. He threw his arms around her almost without even expecting it himself, and embraced her warmly, the sudden human contact, the first for over a year causing him to sob uncontrollably into her shoulder.

After a while he lifted his head and pulled away. He now had a reason, and a desire. It was not just him anymore. He wasn't just alone, waiting here to die. He turned to her, and with a confidence that he didn't expect to hear, he spoke again,

"Yes...let's go!"

So many mysteries, so few answers .... Raven knew so little. This was more than she could take. She was used to knowing everything, used to being in control, having everything set to the clock. She started to silently cry, the tears streaming down her face and hand during their awkward silence. She wondered if she'd been a bit too sarcastic-sounding in her question, and pissed off the one person who could possibly save her right now.

"Yeah .... I ...."

She didn't need to hear any more; she got the basic outline of the picture, even without knowing the whole story. She was hoping to find out eventually, but she didn't need to right now. He seemed barely able to speak, let alone explain the exact details of his 'death'. He looked so sad - she didn't want to hurt him any more.

After what seemed like even longer than the time she'd been in here, she was surprised to see him move at her words. The determination she felt seemed to pulse from her mind to his, she could feel the raw need breaking the atmosphere, just as he broke her wall. This sudden connection to another human being was hard for her to understand ....

In contrast to the length of their meeting, it all happened so quickly. She didn't expect the hug at all, but she couldn't help but return it. Her arms, weak but needy, flew around him. Under normal circumstances, he would have felt cold and emaciated, but now, the comfort of it all was like some sort of heater.

In her mind, she could have held on forever (because they would only be making it right, and would never be wrong together - ha), but knew that they had to get out. She remembered that 'Jessica' was given a primitively-drawn map to the owner's room, in case she needed to get out, but could only remember that fact, not what the map looked like. She tried to muster up some memory of how she got in here last year, the way that she was walked up to her room .... but no, nothing.

"Let's - let's break down some more walls," she said, the only idea she had. "There are stairs somewhere - failing that, we could always crack a window. There's a way. There has to be."

Raven couldn't help but laugh at Scott not checking the door; but then, she would have done the same had the shoe been on the other foot. She stopped when she looked at how hurt he was, and promised herself that if there was any more wall-breaking to be done, she'd do it - though she didn't say that out loud.

She took his hand and they walked through her room, looking for an escape route. It was weird having him in here. Her room wasn't much different to his, but still, she being the only inhabitant of it for nearly a year, it felt like an invasion of privacy. Even though he obviously wouldn't, it felt like he was going to find something which she had to explain - thinking of which, she swiftly picked up her little bag and slung it over her shoulder. Everything she couldn't leave behind was in there - apart from Scott, of course.

Suddenly, a memory struck her. A bad one. She remembered first coming in here, a lost 17-year-old, on the run from her family, the police, everyone including herself. "I look after people, Jessica, and I'm going to look after you most of all." The owner of the place, 10 years younger but still much older than her. He grinned as he bundled her body, weak from travelling from place to place with no idea where to go next, and put her into the room at the end, this room. Carrying her had hurt and felt intrusive, but she didn't complain. She couldn't, or she'd be on the streets.

"This is a special room, Jessica, for a special girl," said the spitting voice in her head, "because you can get to me if you want me. You see this little door that lifts up here? Jump down there and it'll take you straight to me, for anything you want ...."

Where was that trap door? She'd never used it, just taken the longer route stairs like everyone else for the few times she'd left the house, but she was in the same room as it right now. If there wasn't a man there holding a key, it would at the very least be a route to the ground floor. But where was it? Her large eyes darted around the room, trying to remember.

"Sofa!" Raven said, and let go of Scott's hand. She laid down on the sofa, her head and feet hanging off it, and picked it up with both arms. At first, she struggled, and was about to ask Scott for help - but it gave way, revealing a piece of loose carpet which came away easily. There was a small, dusty wooden door which had clearly not been opened since before Raven had lived there as Jessica. She blew the dust off it, and opened it. She didn't bother to look down, just jumped - surely the owner wouldn't want his special girl to get hurt going through her secret door?

It was only a one-storey jump, and she landed on her feet. Raven saw a wobbly metal fire escape next to her. This must lead to the owner's room, she thought. He'll have the key to let us out. She looked up at Scott and smiled, taking advantage of being taller than the ceiling. "It's safe. Jump!"

She and Scott clambered down the steps. As he walked in front of her, Raven vaguely explained about being told there was a door a long time ago - maybe she'd explain the whole story of Jessica later, but there was no need to now. Right now she just wanted to get out, and hoped that there weren't too many stairs.

Three, four, five, maybe even six or seven floors later - they weren't quite sure, nobody had been counting - they stumbled to the bottom of the fire escape. There, hanging off its hinges, was that door which 'Jessica' had been invited into. The owner surely would be somewhere in there, right? He wasn't making any sound, maybe he was sleeping, please don't let him be out ....

Raven gasped. He wasn't out, or sleeping. He was laying dead on his own floor. Raven scraped a finger across the corpse - perversely, she thought, he would have loved this if he was alive - he was clearly out cold. Scott pointed at the keyring hanging out of his pocket, but Raven had zoned out. He was amongst one of many people who had taken care of the young runaway in those precious two years away from home, in which she had changed completely, but was still the same person when she came back home.

While Raven sobbed, Scott took action - taking the keys and then Raven's hand. He searched for the one which fit what they assumed was the front door, walked them both through it, and looked around at the sky. Being outside, along with the death, was just too much. She fell into his arms and wept. When she managed to compose herself just a little, she whispered in his ear.

"That was the easy part. Next up, life."

Edited by user 03 June 2011 03:47:50(UTC)  | Reason: Not specified