Chapter IX: A Whisper In The Woods, Part II

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"You're starting him with that?!" Professor Weber shouted at Chris. "You're mad! Do you think—"

"Professor, calm, please," Chris motioned his hand. A wave of ecstasy filled Professor Weber's face. Was fucking creepy, but it worked. He said nothing and just stared at nothing, while Chris turned back to me with a certain smile. The type of smile a doctor would give when they want to get on your good side. "Liam?"

"Yeah?" I raised an eyebrow, tired of all of these smiles. I peeked over at his Whisper, and it felt the same as Professor Weber's Whisper. Inferior.

"I didn't introduce myself properly last time we spoke, but now that you're a member, I'm Chris Duncan, a speaker and your trainer."

"Trainer?" I asked softly, looking over to Professor Weber. "Is he—"

"Yes, trainer, and he'll be fine," Chris chuckled. "Right now he thinks his wife is—giving him a good time."

"The fuck?" disgust riddled my face. "How did you do—," puke filled my throat. The flavor too disgusting to keep in. I upchucked all over the grass.

"Oh yeah, that," he circled me, pencil to his lips. "That curse is a tricky one. I would resist your curiosity."

"Thanks, I couldn't tell," I spat a purple chunk on the ground, shaking. Repulsive. It looked like chunks of coagulated blood, like the type of nosebleed, but it was purple and pulsated on the blades, eating the grass like a caterpillar. "What—," I stopped myself. Almost asked what the fucking hell it was... but—fool me twice, shame on me. "What's next?" I asked instead.

"Now," he tucked the pencil behind his ear. "This is your 'training session'," he tucked the pencil behind his ear, airquoting "training session." "In that shack are answers you seek and questions you desire. To get there, you'll have to traverse over some—active mines, hidden in the grass."

My heart dropped at the fucking mention of minefields. Twisted fucks really knew how to put pressure on a man.

"Fucking landmines?!"

Chris reached beneath his cloak, pulling out a purple, withered handkerchief. He unwrapped an object hidden within, a gun. My gun.

"Familiar?" he asked. I glared, holding out my hand, expecting him to hand it back, but instead he checked to make sure it was loaded.

He then pointed the fucking gun at Professor Weber's head, pulling back the hammer. Click.

With a chuckle, he pressed it against Professor Weber's head, finger lightly on the trigger. My heart began to race faster. I don't know what the fucking hell is wrong with these damn cultists! If they were a little more patient, I would've complied!

Anxiety caught me off guard. My heart dropped, more sweat ran down my spine, pooling on my back. My breathing, it grew sparse, I felt like I was choking.

I'm going to get people killed!

This is all my fault!

I should've just stayed at home.

It then hit me.

My—meds are at my apartment. Shit.

What followed grew fuzzy, as I don't seem to recall much. I crouched, looking down, just terror and uneasiness. Don't know why it didn't happen sooner but that's how anxiety is sometimes.

When I forget to take my meds, shit gets horrible.

I remember Chris cursing and putting away the gun as soon as he figured out what was going on. He tried to calm me down, but after failing miserably, he gave a long sigh and offered an alternative solution.

"I can make it go away, for good." He knelt with me. "Look at your Whisper, not directly at it, but like you're taking note of an object in the corner of your eye without looking at it," he repeated over and over until I managed to obey. Took a few minutes, but I think I had it. It's difficult to focus on something while not looking at it, at least it was for me.

A small nod was given.

"Good. When at it, softly speak its name and ask it—. Well, just repeat after me, ok? Bvoz-kik, can you remove my anxiety?" A hesitation of skepticism and a stutter of fear made this step take over several minutes, but I remember the successful moment as clear as day.

Its bulbous head snapped into attention and leaned into my ear. I couldn't feel the creature, but goosebumps ran through my body as in the corner of my eye, the fleshy mass was within centimeters of me.

Bvoz-kik spoke. Whispers speaking... It's pretty fucking weird... It's like—I heard a voice. A soft, soothing whisper. But, when I perceived it, it didn't sound like a word, but it sounded like a feeling. No, sorry, not a feeling, but knowledge. As if its response was information that all of a sudden, I knew.

In this case, its response was a respectful agreement mixed with a desire to help. Yup, help.

Had I been given a better opportunity to shoot the creature yesterday, I would've.

A hot sensation traveled from the base of my spine to my brain. This felt soothing, what followed, though, well—

All physical perception faded away. Just pure darkness and a feeling. One I was all too familiar with by this point.

Bvoz-kik.

The sensation intensified and more information soon followed. Sure, an idea of an agreement seems simple, but imagine removing anxiety?

Thousands of complex thoughts being shoved into your head all at once, rapidly flipping through concepts and ideas that aren't even known by man. That's what happened to me. A headache worse than a booming migraine bounced around my skull, escalating with the information to the point where the darkness felt blinding. Too much! Everything! Ideas. Concepts! Several consciences at once! Not one! MANY! Fathoms! Lessons! Voices! Whispers! Wanderers! It—it's... maddening to recall in a state as weak and fragile as my own.

After what felt like days, time and space twisted and turned back into its correct state. The sound of birds chirping, the smell of fresh air and rotten flesh, the sight of green, brown, and red, and the warmth of the sun all returned.

My brain finally agreed on one thought again, and the previous knowledge seemed like nothing but a bad dream with only a small headache to linger. But also...

Everything felt at peace. A sense of peace I've never felt in my entire life. A peace that was different than what my meds had to offer. When I had my meds, there were lingering echoes of worrying about people. Mistakes. Missed opportunities.

But all of that nagging. Gone. It was fucking incredible, my fellow friends. Screw what I said about things being quiet being my favorite upside. It removed a mental disease.

The medical industry would kill for something like that. I laughed excitedly, but— it was short-lived.

"Welcome back," Chris grinned. "That's just a taste of what your Whisper can do. Now, I see your elation but take it easy. Body and mind answers can take a toll. We wouldn't want you to end up like Barb."

"Barb?"

"The girl that had a seizure? She pushed herself too far. But I take you to be a smart man, Liam. Anyways." He pulled out the gun once more. "Where were we?" he asked while tapping the barrel to his lips. "Oh yeah, do what you did then, but with the minefield."

I looked over at the gun, he noticed and held it up to Professor Weber's head again.

"This is just motivation. I don't want to have to use it, but you need to know how to use your Whisper if you are to please the Wanderer... More importantly, help Natalie and me."

Instead of responding, I just glared at him.

At that moment, I felt something.

Which was when I decided to ask myself an important question, my fellow friends.

What the hell was my plan? I was trapped in a forest in the middle of who the fuck knows searching for not one but now two girls.

And if that dream truly was a vision, probably a bunch more!

No, I've had it with their fucking process...

James and Claire trust me in helping people... and so I will.

This won't be Chris's dance. This won't be James's dance. Hell, this won't be the fucking Wanderer's dance.

This is my dance with the Witch.

My eyes focused on the gun, then to my Whisper.

"Bvoz-kik, will what I want to do kill me?" I asked.

It responded, showing me I'd survive.

"Of course it won't, if you use your Whisper," Chris chuckled.

"Can I trust him?" I asked once more. Chris's face contorted into one of confusion.

It responded again, a negative response.

"Wait," he pulled the gun away and pointed it at me.

I gave a long sigh. "Bvoz-kik, can you make me unstoppable?" My tone was polite.

And then, this beautiful, incredible creature gave an endearing confirmation. I looked over at Chris, who dropped the gun, eyes-wide, fear in his eye. He ran towards me.

A hot sensation traveled from the base of my spine to my brain.

"Liam! You fucking idio—."

All physical perception faded away. Just pure darkness and a feeling. One I was all too familiar with by this point.

My Whisper. Companion. Friend.

Bvoz-kik.

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