Post by account_disabled on Dec 10, 2023 22:10:30 GMT -8
He let it go and sat down. Let everything rot, he said to himself. His hands began to move, slowly at first, jerkily, then they came up and slammed on the table, hitting it with his knuckles. Remo cursed. He tried to massage them, but he no longer had control. The chair he was sitting on began to rise, clearing the table, and Remo hit the ceiling with his head. Then the chair fell down. Remo fell to the ground screaming. Now she'll call the police, he told himself. Well, let him come and see what happens. He stood up and sat down, still in control of his nerves. "Oar." He heard it again. A dull voice that penetrated her mind, shattering his thoughts. He felt his neck muscles tighten, his jaw drop.
Her mouth dropped open and a throaty, choking sound came out. "Oar." It was he who spoke, without his will, without his voice. It was he who called himself by the thing that inhabited his Phone Number Data house. The head began to rotate and Remo's vision changed. He had turned to the right slowly without being able to prevent it. Then his head rotated the other way, despite Remo's resistance. Finally he returned to the front position. The dresser drawers fell to the floor and the kitchen door opened and closed forcefully several times. Remo regained control of his body.
She reached for the laptop and turned it towards him. “Take it all back,” he said. “Take back the bastard and what he will do to me.” He heard other noises coming from the rest of the house, doors closing and something falling. A television turned on and the cell phone alarm rang. One of the floating chairs hit the window glass, which shattered. The other hit Remo in the face. He rubbed his cheekbone, tears streaming down his face. Then both his arms fell back and Remo had no way to regain control. The kitchen furniture began to shake as if during an earthquake. Remo's head began to rotate again. He turned to the laptop. Remo saw himself on the screen, his cheekbone swollen, red, his face veiled in bitter dampness. He saw her head turn slowly, her face in profile, her vision blurring when only the corner of her eye could look.
Her mouth dropped open and a throaty, choking sound came out. "Oar." It was he who spoke, without his will, without his voice. It was he who called himself by the thing that inhabited his Phone Number Data house. The head began to rotate and Remo's vision changed. He had turned to the right slowly without being able to prevent it. Then his head rotated the other way, despite Remo's resistance. Finally he returned to the front position. The dresser drawers fell to the floor and the kitchen door opened and closed forcefully several times. Remo regained control of his body.
She reached for the laptop and turned it towards him. “Take it all back,” he said. “Take back the bastard and what he will do to me.” He heard other noises coming from the rest of the house, doors closing and something falling. A television turned on and the cell phone alarm rang. One of the floating chairs hit the window glass, which shattered. The other hit Remo in the face. He rubbed his cheekbone, tears streaming down his face. Then both his arms fell back and Remo had no way to regain control. The kitchen furniture began to shake as if during an earthquake. Remo's head began to rotate again. He turned to the laptop. Remo saw himself on the screen, his cheekbone swollen, red, his face veiled in bitter dampness. He saw her head turn slowly, her face in profile, her vision blurring when only the corner of her eye could look.
