“How the FUCK is saying you never gave her hair a colour supposed to make sense?” Marty says as he feels his eyes twitch with each flicker of the hallway lighting. “And what the fuck is out there!” He asks passionately as he point toward the open doorway that leads to the once vibrantly coloured hallway.
“You know the answer without asking it, don’t lie to us both by saying you don’t.”
Marty feels his lower lip tremble and a warmth run down his leg, “The Roundhead,” he whispers through clenched teeth.
“See, I knew you knew,” the stranger says with. Wry smile upon his face.
“Why didn’t I remember? Why couldn’t I….” once more his lower lip trembles as his eyes stare off into a void of nothingness, while a world lived but forgotten floods across his mind with surge of raw energy and emotion. “W-W-What’s happening to me?”
“You’re reconnecting with the source material, being assimilated back into the story. It’s a sight to see it take place first hand, I’ve only ever writing the idea of it happening, but now I’ve it with my own two eyes I can understand why it’s difficult to process for the character. Every memory to a finite point jammed back into your skull with an unadulterated brute force. No care taken. No gentle waves that wash over you. Welcome to the truth of how things are, and don’t forget to wipe your arse on the way out.”
“Did you ever think maybe it’s just your writing that makes it so vivacious?” A voice says from across the room.
“Did you ever think that my writing was the only thing keeping you and I with a shot at ending all this in our favor?” The stranger says as he and Marty both turn their gaze upon the owner wretched form.
“G-G-Gareth?” Marty says nervously.
“You’re almost right Marty. But right or wrongs don’t really matter here and now, what matters is why he’s playing around with what’s in place,” he says as he turns his attention to Marty’s doppelgänger. “Couldn’t you just leave it the way it was?”
“It was lost in itself. Like me. Like you. I had to try and finish it for both of us.”
“Don’t bullshit me with your sorry excuses Matt. You just couldn’t leave it alone could you?”
“NO,” a voice hisses from the doorway like fingernails down a blackboard, and they all turn their gaze toward the thing that owns it as it steps through the doorway. “He could’t stop dreaming about me.”