PREV NEXT
I'M TRAPPED, YOU KNOW? TRAPPED!
CW: None.
“Hey, James… You doing alright?” Concern was audibly laced within Chris’ tone as he gingerly prodded at him with an open palm on his shoulder.
James, with his head face down on the table, could only manage a weak groan. It was so sudden, so out of left field that it felt like a slap to the face. He’d never experienced anything like that in a nightmare, and he was petrified at the notion of trying to get back to sleep after the fact.
James was intimate with the realm of nightmares. They all tended to fit into these respective categories: childhood misadventures, him murdering Mary, Mary murdering him, Silent Hill being terrifying, and… whatever that particular dream was. It was too vivid to simply be put in the Silent Hill night terrors category. Silent Hill related, yes, but… the other ones felt hazy and incongruent. Appropriately dreamlike whenever he woke up.
That one felt like it was real. And he knew what it meant.
“Do you need me to get you anything? Water? We, uh, we’ve probably got some snacks in here somewhere, too.” Chris removed the hand on James’ shoulder to rub the nape of his own neck, looking around in search of what he claimed was housed within the room.
James finally rose from the table and slumped back in his chair, sliding downwards. Chris took one look at his face and his brows raised in alarm.
“Oh, God, James, you look terrible! Did you sleep at all last night?” He reached his hand toward his own mouth, thoroughly shocked at the state of the man aside from him. James could only manage a half-hearted shrug.
“Nightmare,” was all that he could say while drawing lines with his fingers into his eyebags. "A really bad one, too,” he tacked on for clarity. Chris nodded with a look of genuine understanding in his eyes.
“You have those too, huh…” He took off his glasses and massaged the bridge of his nose before putting them back on. “Like, the big nightmare that leaves you wide awake for the rest of the night, yeah?”
James managed a look of surprise in his exhausted stupor, and he nodded emphatically. Chris stared at him for a moment, his face becoming stern and calculative, and James tilted his head in confusion.
“What’s the matter?” He asked Chris softly, and the latter barked a meek laugh, pushing his glasses back into place when they did not need to be.
Nervous tic?
“Sorry, sorry, it’s nothing. Just debating on some things is all.” Chris leaned back into his own seat and folded his arms, looking the other way. “You know… If I were you, I would’ve skimped out on this session altogether and stayed home. You’re a real champ, you know that?” He flashed him that big charming grin of his and James couldn’t help but feel a bit warm inside.
“You flatter me,” James smiled back, his eyes finding the dull blue carpet below them a comforting sight. Chris shook his head insistently.
“No, no, I’m serious! Completely serious. My daughter…" He started to say, but then trailed off, another look of apprehension waltzing all over his face. James had to admit, he was beginning to get a little annoyed with Chris' lack of transparency whenever he was veering on the edge of revealing personal info. It wasn't like James was a cop or anything.
"Your daughter…?" James emphasized, leaning in with a look of insistence on his face. Chris gave him a nervous glance before sighing and clearing his throat.
"Yes, my- my daughter… Poor thing, she has nightmares all the time." He placed his arms on the table, gesturing with his hands as he spoke, then placed two fingers on his temple, massaging it as he recollected. "I… I worry about her. So much. I mean, my sleeping habits aren't exemplary, either, but…" Chris sighed, looking visibly forlorn.
James had long since pulled in closer to show that he was listening, nodding along as best he could. He hummed sympathetically. He could very easily see him being a father. Wasn't exactly sure why he didn't put two and two together beforehand.
"Does she have those big nightmares often?" James inquired gently, and Chris looked at him long and hard.
"Yeah. Yeah, she does." He took off his glasses again and pressed his two fingers hard into the bend of his nose, then sliding his hand over his frown. Chris sat there for a moment, staring at the drawing he had made in the time given to them that day. It looked gray and foggy, with red and blue marker scribbles lining the bottom. There was a tiny stick-person drawn in crayon that looked like it was falling.
James felt his heart lurch. So that friendliness of his... was it just for show? An act? It seemed like it was, considering how much Chris' face had soured in his pensive state as he stared at his drawing. James decided that he hated the way the father wore that expression, and wanted to make it right.
He'd already probed him enough, anyways. It was only fair.
"I'm sorry." The words slipped out of James' lips before he could catch them, and Chris shook his head as he inhaled, putting his glasses back on in the process. He managed a friendly smile that didn't quite reach his eyes when he turned his head back towards James.
"It's not your fault, James," he replied, and James shook his head in turn.
"No, it's not that… I- I mean, I am sorry that your daughter is struggling so much, but…" James picked at a hangnail with his thumb. "You don't know me. You're… very tense, I can tell. I'm sorry for making you say more than you wanted."
Chris' face softened with small surprise as he apologized. James didn't dare look into his eyes until the man beside him responded. He didn't feel like he was allowed to unless he did.
"That’s… " Chris found himself rubbing the nape of his neck again. James' eyes darted towards him then, wide and uncertain. The older man shook his head and placed his chin on the palm of his hand. "You're very kind, James."
James’ face lit up like a bonfire, and he was quick to look away to fiddle with his blank sheet of paper. He cleared his throat as best he could. "Once again, you flatter me." James shakily said, and Chris could only chuckle.
"I swear I'm not! Like I said before, I'm being serious."
"I'm just…" James scratched the underside of his nose with his thumbnail. "I'm just trying to look out for others as best I can… you know? You're no different." That wasn't the truth. The full truth, at least. The father sitting aside from him had afforded him the dignity of conversation. Connection, if James were to be bold about it. He didn’t want to lose that. Chris bobbed his head from side to side.
"Well, it makes me feel better that you are. Thank you." His smile looked genuine now, as James could see the crinkle of his crow's feet. He nodded and smiled tautly himself.
"You're welcome. I'll… leave you to your drawing now." And with that, the two of them broke away from their shared gaze and shifted back towards the table. Chris had since picked up a colored pencil and started diligently shading the bottom of the page.
James slid a black marker out of its row and drummed it against the table as he bounced his knee in thought, staring at the blank sheet while he chewed at the corner of his mouth. He couldn’t waste his time here any longer; James had to give this a shot.
The vision of Pyramid Head flashed through his mind and he shuddered. Should he? Maybe it'd be good to get it out of his system.
With a dry mouth and shaky hands, he uncapped the marker and put the tip to the page. His strokes were unsure and uneven; he was the furthest thing from an artist. He used to be an office clerk. Office clerks weren't really known for their artistic talent, and that's if you could call kicking the side of the broken down copy machine to get it working again an art form.
The voices of the shrinks in rotation resounded in his head, "What you create isn't about it looking perfect, it's about what you feel, how you feel. Focus on the feeling."
Did they account for feelings of annoyance at one's inability to create?
He was feeling pretty annoyed with how terribly this Pyramid Head was turning out, specifically. He chewed on his lower lip, surveying the sheet with a harshly critical eye. It somehow looked even more monstrous than the real thing, being more reminiscent of a child's desperate scrawling than the work of a thirty-five year old man grappling with his inner demons.
James audibly sighed and placed his knuckles on his cheek, elbow resting on the table. He decided to take a quick peek at what Chris was up to. The foggy feeling of his drawing had only increased tenfold, and there was now what looked like a giant bullsquid about to eat the stick figure whole. As if he felt James' eyes on him, he glanced over and gave him a small half-smile. Chris then looked between the drawing and James.
"Allegorical," he simply said with a shrug.
"I get that," James murmured, nodding his head. The father then got a mischievous glint in his eyes. He shifted from side to side, clearly eyeing the general location of James' sheet, of which was obscured by the elbow the man had on the table.
"What'd you do?" The smile he wore fully blossomed when he asked and James pulled his elbow away so he could see, but when he tried to explain, all James could do was toss his hand up in defeat and puff air out his cheeks. Chris' eyes filled with interest and 'oooh'-ed at it, which got an earnest chuckle out of James.
"You can't give me that much credit." He threw his head back when he looked at Chris with a small smile. The latter shook his head diligently, keeping his eyes peeled on the Pyramid Head James thought so crudely drawn. The longer the father stared at it, the more self-conscious James became, and he pronged the inside of his cheek with his tongue, waiting for Chris' response.
It was a small, menial doodle of the harrowing figure, nothing too substantial, but the fundamentals of its appearance were all there. The large, scalene prism helmet it wore drew the eye in first, of course. It was shaded in quite vigorously, with James doing his best to indicate the decay that it displayed. In its fingerless nub of a left hand, it held the Great Knife, its blade looking far more wobbly due to James' shaking while slowing down to draw it. Sparks that looked more like asterisks sprouted from the ground where the blade's edge hit the floor. All over its angular body were bloodstains drawn in black marker ink, little dots being stamped about its clothing and arms, implicating its violent nature.
"Who is he?" Chris finally said, shifting his eyes from the drawing to James, his look of interest being entirely genuine. James opened his mouth and hot air was all that escaped. He clamped it shut and swallowed, scratching at the side of his nose with his index finger.
"It's, uh… " James tried again, far more successful in actually saying something this time. "It's… the guy from the… the nightmare I had. Last night." James gestured between the Pyramid Head and Chris with the same finger, now chewing the inside of his cheek.
"Ohhh," Chris responded, nodding gently. "Does he have a name?" James gave him a small, quick shrug, feeling his face heat up when he thought about how Chris would react when he did say its name.
"Um. P…Pyramid Head." James scratched weakly at the roots of his hairline, taking a sharp breath in and out of his nose. He waited for Chris to bust out laughing at the ridiculousness of it. Nothing followed. He instead looked between the Pyramid Head and James and gave him a single nod.
"That makes sense!" James could hear the smile in Chris' voice, but it wasn't… pejorative. By all accounts, the sentence sounded completely benign. Any remnants of Chris's visible anxiety had either dissolved entirely or the mask had slipped back on. James couldn't tell which one it was, and he liked to think that he was warming up to him. Maybe.
Look at him, wanting to be all reliable again. James cleared his throat for what seemed like the millionth time.
"Glad you think it does. When I first-" James cut himself off, eyes darting around as he chose his words carefully. "In the dream, when I first saw it, I wanted to call it Red... Pyramid Thing?"
He and Chris both chuckled at that. Nice save.
"Right? It's ridiculous. Decided that was a no-go, so I thought that Pyramid Head would be better."
"Pyramid Head is very charismatic, I think," Chris nodded and pointed at James in affirmation, the colored pencil he possessed being loosely held between his thumb and middle finger.
An anxious pause. "The name, not the guy."
"No worries, thought you meant the name." James nodded throughout and gave him another small, earnest smile, and Chris grinned. His grin was then quickly pulled away, and he pushed back the cuff of his sweater to check the watch that sat on his right wrist. His voice thrummed in realization.
"Almost done," Chris murmured, and James pulled in closer, not quite catching what he said. "Ah, we're almost done with the session here." Chris tapped his watch in indication and James raised his eyebrows and nodded. He rested back into his seat and felt a strange sadness creep into his heart.
He didn't want to leave. Didn't want to have to wait another long, agonizing week to see Chris again. He chewed vigorously at his bottom lip in deliberation.
Without warning, James reached over to his Pyramid Head drawing and started to tear off a little section of it, free of any markings that may obfuscate what he wished to write down. Chris watched him with curiosity and alarm in his eyes, being startled by the sudden noises of shredding paper. James hunched over the slip, writing something in pen as cleanly as he could. He then folded the slip and held his hand out towards Chris.
"Here." James shook his hand up and down, indicating that the man should take it. Chris stared wide-eyed at the slip held deftly between James' fingers, and looked at him without turning his head upward. James pulled his lips to the side in mild frustration.
He was hesitant. Obviously, he would be.
Think, James. Think of something he'd want to hear.
"Look, I… know you don't know me, and you don't trust strangers, that much I know. I don't know what's happened in your life and you don't need to say a word about it, but… please know that I would never hurt you or your daughter. Not in a million years. I like you. I want to get to know you, so… here's my number. Call whenever you'd like."
Even for James, this was a big risk. He'd never put himself out there like this before. It was always somebody else yanking him out by the hand from the dark into the light. Many have tried, but it seldom worked. Mary was the one person who had really succeeded.
Mary…
How would Chris take the news of him having killed Mary all those years ago? That he spent six years in prison for her murder? That he was on parole for her murder? Would that conversation ever even come up? It would have to at some point, but that's if they ever got close enough.
James felt his hand tremble.
"Or… you- you don't have to. It's fine. Sorry." James was just about finished pulling away when he felt a hand firmly grasp his wrist.
"No!" When James looked over, he saw Chris's face, all askew with something apologetic.
"No, James, I-... I should be the one saying sorry." He looked down in shame, and pushed the bridge of his glasses back up his nose. This time, he needed to. James let Chris pull his hand back toward him and removed the slip from his fingers. He opened it and studied the phone number written inside rigidly.
"I need to get out of my own head sometimes," Chris said quietly. James understood that sentiment all too well. "I'll call you when I'm ready. Thank you, James." Chris didn't look up when he said his thanks, but James didn't mind. He wanted to give the older man a pat on the shoulder, but he remembered back to when he jumped at his touch, and ultimately decided against it.
"Of course," James responded with a smile far bigger than usual. The duo then heard the click of the doorknob at the far end of the room, and all the psychs funneled in, signifying that drawing time was over and discussions about their art were to be had.
It went as per usual, with Chris chatting up a storm with one and James managing a few short sentences with another. When asked if he wanted to share the drawing with the other patients, James quickly shook his head. Chris, on the other hand, was more than willing to pass his around to showcase his talent of storytelling. When time was finally up, the clients began to rise from their seats, putting on their coats and hats to brave the cold winter air that would greet them outside the building.
James watched them with quiet eyes, and shifted his gaze toward Chris when it was his turn to stand. He grabbed the jacket that sat on the backrest of the chair and pulled it over his arms. Next was his scarf, which was a charming muted red, and then his hat, which he was keen to pull over his ears.
"See you next week, James. I'll… try to give you a call before then, yeah?" Chris gave him that wonderful grin and James nodded enthusiastically.
"I'd really like that. See you then."
They gave each other a quick wave and James watched as Chris walked out the door behind them. He turned back towards the table, his Pyramid Head having long since been confiscated.
For some reason or another, one that he could probably easily guess, James Sunderland couldn’t stop smiling.