Page 55 of The Imaginary Friend's Obsession

And then my body turns and looks at Dorian. I am a passenger in my own mind. It’s like I’m viewing the world from within a cage. I can even feel the cold bars against my hands, rattle them mentally, but I am helpless to do anything but watch as my body reaches out and grabs Dorian by the throat. He struggles against my grip, but he doesn’t fight. Hewon’tfight me.

“Dorian,” I scream within the confines of my head. I hear Godric’s laughter echoing around me. I canseehim through the bars of this cage, even as I simultaneously view myself choking Dorian. A disconcerting double vision, my mind and body torn apart.

In my mindscape, Godric is red and wet like flayed-open muscle, his eyes twin flames, horns curling out of his head. Once a horrible man, now become even something worse in death.

“I’ve been waiting so long for this,” he hisses. “Waiting, feeding… But suchpower. It was worth the wait. Your mind is a weapon. And your body…” His forked tongue slides out from behind his blackened lips.

One of my hands is still gripping Dorian by the throat, holding him with preternatural strength. The other slides down over my body, my breasts. I canfeelit, the horrifying sensation of being violated by my own hand. Nobody but Dorian has touched me so intimately. I never wanted anyone else to.

I scream and thrash against the bars of my own mind. Dorian’s eyes are rolling back in his head. His form flickers around the edges.Can he die again?

“There are worse things than death,” Godric says, answering the question I only asked in my mind. “I can send him down to the pits of hell, a new plaything for my master.”

Nothing is mine anymore. Not my body, my thoughts, my Dorian, my power…

My power.

I am not helpless. I have control ofmypower. I reach for it buried inside of me, let it wrap around me like a comforting cloak, along with my anger. Howdarethis entity use my body like this. I am not a tool or a weapon or a thing. I picture the cage around me again, and then I picture the door opening and me striding out.

I let go of Dorian’s throat. My hand remains in the air, trembling as I battle for control.

Dorian has done his best to protect me. Now it’s my turn to return the favor. I raise my trembling, resisting hands to my temples and screw my eyes shut as I concentrate.

“Getout,” I say through gritted teeth.

The creature howls in response. He digs his claws into me mentally, resisting me as I try to shove him away. Warm blood trickles from my nose, cascading over my lips and chin, but I ignore it.

“This is my body,” I whisper. “My mind. You can’t have it.”

Another gush of blood from my nose, and pain racks me. I crumble to my knees. But warm hands are there to catch me before I hit the floor. Dorian’s long arms wrap around me, and he presses his unmasked forehead to mine in a show of silent support. He’s weak and flickering, but he’s here, lending me strength. My other half. Power pulses through me—power that I loaned him every time I spoke with him, laughed with him, shaped him. Now it flows back into me, helping me fight.

The monster is still snarling and clawing at me, trying to break free. It’s agony to try to force him out of my head, but I realize, all of a sudden, that I don’t have to.

I can do something better.

I picture the cage again, the one he locked me in. But I build it stronger this time. Not a cage but a room with four sturdy walls. Somewhere out of the way, where he can rage all he wants and no one will hear. Somewhere like-

The attic.

I picture myself standing in front of the monster as he struggles and snarls, held in place by the combined power of me and Dorian. Then I place my hands on his chest andshove. He stumbles, tries to recover, and all four of Dorian’s hands appear from behind me to shove as well, forcing the creature into the room.

I shut the hatch, slam a mental lock into place, and suddenly my head is quiet. I’m alone in my body, sagging on the floor in Dorian’s arms.

“We did it,” I whisper, leaning against him. But he doesn’t feel as solid as before. He’s still fuzzy around the edges, his form indistinct. I raise my head, blinking, confusion soon sharpening into fear. “Dorian? What’s wrong?” I grab hold of his arms, forcibly anchoring him as his form flickers. “Oh, no. What did I do?” He gave me my power back to help me fight. And I…

I blink, disoriented, as the memory slips through my fingers. What did I do? I shake my head to clear it, and the world spins. I reach for Dorian, but my hand goes through him, and he disappears. It’s just me, alone with the bodies of my parents, blood dripping from my nose, memories bleeding away…

* * *

The scene freezes like a movie being paused. But my eyes can still move, flickering around the room. Blood still seeps from my nose, a drip growing into a stream, forming a puddle on the floorboards where Dorian used to be.

Bubbles form, and then a hand reaches out, coated in the viscous red liquid. Long nails dig into the floorboards, and a figure slowly drags itself out of the blood, inch by inch, and stands over me.

Red and grinning and horned.Godric.

He wipes blood off his face and turns burning eyes on me. He grins, a mouthful of sharp white teeth emerging from beneath the blood still dripping from its skin.

“Yes, that’s how it happened,” he says. “You locked me away. Me and every memory that I appeared in.” He takes a step toward me, gait awkward and shuffling, like he’s still remembering how. “But now you’ve opened the door.”

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