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“Negative Spirit, release,” Larry breathes, the hooks curling into his skin like the blazeburn of a fire curling into his skin & oh, scars, just more tainted flesh, oh, they think at the same time, help—--not again—- “I—-I said release. Release, come on, come on, please, help me...”
The Spirit is trying, banging on the walls of Larry’s innerbody like prison bars; something is keeping them locked in, something is barring The Spirit from shedding Larry’s body and tearing this dimension into small shredded pieces. They have to help Larry. They have to save Larry. No one can hurt him again. They cannot escape his form; the person responsible for their capture is powerful, and The Spirit can almost feel it as if the metal was digging into their own body, as if they were suspended—-trapped, again, just like—-in the air, as if they were bare to the world and Larry was inside of them and—-
The Spirit pushes up against Larry’s chest. Hopes, glows, hope in the form of a glow; if they don’t exit, Larry will assume that they are doing it on purpose. Larry will assume that The Spirit is allowing this to happen. Larry is so scared, The Spirit knows; they can feel it, they can feel everything that Larry has ever felt, and right now Larry is thinking—
the bandages unravel—-
“Oh, God,” Larry screams, and the bandages unravel, and The Spirit wants to rip into the being that did this, wants to pull their hands through its body and rip out each working instrument—- no one can hurt Larry again, no one can stop them from saving Larry, they are obstructed, they are kept, someone is hurting Larry and there is nothing
they can do
to stop it.
“No, please, God, no, please… I’m so sorry… I’m sorry..”
There are other prisoners. On the floor, underneath them, struggling and wrapped in cloth—- the radiation is boiling them, their stitched faces mutilated, and there’s—-there is no possibility that Larry will ever heal from the sight of this, his body used to ruin and torture. The sick feeling of worthlessness and the spark of harm still rests inside of Larry’s mind. If they get out—-
Scar tissue. Just more scar tissue, more tainted flesh. He will never forgive himself.
Larry doesn’t stop screaming apologies like a plea to God and The Spirit doesn’t stop trying to escape; they both know that these actions are pointless. The prisoners will not hear Larry nor will they forgive him, and The Spirit cannot leave Larry’s body in this dimension. Someone is keeping them inside. Someone wants Larry to suffer.
That is the most infuriating thing possible; he does not deserve to suffer. He deserves safety, a healing light.
Larry is owed a path to serenity.
Rita Farr gets Larry out. She is brave, and loves Larry unconditionally; they admire her, she is so good for him.
They can also feel a growing anger turn wild inside of him. When their hug ends and Larry returns to his bedroom, removes his bandages and notices that the places in his skin where the hooks held him are spotless and invisible, he buries himself underneath a blanket and cries. Curled into himself—-a position that resembles safety. The Spirit wants to reach into the real world and hold him. The Spirit wants—-and wants.
They push against his chest again, but he closes his eyes, refuses to look at the apology. This is an apology. They did not know self-hatred in their own mind until this point; they were powerless, and Larry was hurt again. “You let it happen. You didn’t help me. Why didn’t you help me?”
The Spirit relives it, experiences the terror once again—- they were stuck, they were useless, there’s nothing more painful than watching someone you care about be harmed and have no way to end their suffering. They don’t realize that they’ve given Larry the flashback too until his eyes open and their vision is filled again with the outside world.
“I’m sorry,” he says, “that I thought…”
They pulse, flashes of light, in and out and back in, like breaths. Don’t be sorry.
“I know,” Larry continues, his mind and heart and words heavy, “you’d never hurt me.”