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Chapter or Story 
Chapter or Story
Lyrics by Duran Duran.
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Men fear death as children fear to go in the dark; and as that natural fear in children is increased with tales, so is the other.“ -Francis Bacon
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“Even on the darkest night when empty promise means empty hand... When the lights of hope are fading quickly then look to me... I’ll be your homing angel, I’ll be in your head...”
The hall was dark. It was difficult to see much of anything. There was eeriness to it all. Mia shuddered as she fumbled for the light switchpreteen models.ru. Her fingertips grazed the switch plate. Light swathed the narrow corridor. She was embarrassed to have him see where she lived.
The apartment was cramped quarters even for one person. There was no distinction between the living room and kitchen, which only had a stove and oven, and a short refrigerator and a minute icebox. In the living room that was little more than open space were a cot, three folding chairs, a wooden chest, and small television. The walls were dinghy and where there was wallpaper, it was cracked and peeling. No matter how much she cleaned, the place was always dirty.
Mia was more than a little worried about having a strange man in her apartment. A thousand thoughts flew through her head and the ones about the recent string of killings lingered longer than the others. She hadn’t expected him to come in...but he did. She hadn’t expected him to stay...but he did.
Lyle’s thoughts were still on the encounter with the man outside and barely noticed the state of disrepair around him. At length, he turned his knife-like gaze on her and noticed her nervousness. He smiled at her- a long, closed-lip smile- an inviting, safe, affable smile- one that gave her every reason in the world to trust him.
Jarod isn’t the only one who can pretend...
Because you’re lonely in your nightmare let me in...
If the dearth of her home bothered him, he was gracious enough not to say so. He lounged against a wall in the kitchen, arms folded over his waist and one foot crossed over the other.
“Mia,” he said, letting her name roll over his tongue as though it were sweet wine. “Mia...is that short for Amelia?” Cleverly, Lyle sought to confirm her identity as the Seventh Member by disguising his inquisition in small talk.
Mia seemed to sag against the stove, ashen and cold. She started to shake her head “no”, then stopped, looked at him helplessly, and shrugged.
“I don’t know,” she admitted.
Lyle raised his eyebrows. He couldn’t say honestly that he was surprised. The Centre was rather keen on only giving projects first or last names, never both. The stripping of one’s identity was the first step in assuming control.
“Last name?” he queried, already knowing the answer.
It was that moment, when she looked up at him, that he first truly noticed her eyes. They were mammoth and stormy gray like the sea in dire weather. And in those eyes was all the sadness of the world. To his surprise, Lyle discovered that he could not look long into her gaze for fear he would drown.
“I can’t remember,” she said in a hushed tone. “I must have one...everyone does.”
Not everyone...
“What about family?”
She looked away from him, her features marred in concentration. Finally, she spoke. “I do have a family,” she sounded a bit uncertain as though minutiae were hard to recall. “I know my father is in prison. And my mom had a breakdown when he was convicted- she’s been in Bellevue State Hospital ever since...”
How convenient, he mused. I wonder what role the Centre played in all that?
“I have a brother,” she went on, sounding even more doubtful than before. “And maybe a sister. But I have no idea where they are.”
I’ll bet the Centre does...
“You must think I’m stupid for not knowing my own past.”
“I see the delta traces living lonely out on the limb. And a passing glimmer warm beneath your skin..”
He heard something in her voice break. He found himself suddenly by her side.
“Not all,” he declared, in complete honesty, “I can sympathize actually.”
She stared at him in disbelief. “Really?”
He inclined his head slightly. His fingertips brushed her cheek. “I only have one name myself.”
Even after discovering my parentage, I wasn’t allowed to claim the name Parker, he thought bitterly. His sister’s image flashed into his head. He could feel the anger burning within- that old familiar feeling of hate began to boil again.
He turned his thoughts to the pretty thing before him.
“Must be lucky weather when you find the kind of wind that you need. C’mon show me all the light and shade that made your name... I know you’ve got it in your head, I’ve seen that look before- You’ve built your refuge turns you captive all the same...”
“How long have you been having these memory failures?” he asked, removing his hand from her face and returning to his place by the wall.
Mia, who had been unable to breathe while he had been so close, inhaled a gulp of air.
“Dunno. I can remember my childhood up to eight shortly before my dad was arrested. Then some things here and there, but it’s like there are large chunks of time that are missing. Black gaps that I can’t fill in. Some times I wake up in places and I don’t know where I am or how I got there.”
She noticed his gaze continually shifting to the window and outside world. She watched as he moved to the portal and peered out through the broken, dust-laden blinds.
“They’re always there,” she informed him solemnly and suddenly.
He whipped around as though she had startled him. She saw the flash of metal under his jacket- it didn’t faze her.
Maybe he’s cop...It was possible. They had come after her before because of an interest in her father...not that she could tell them anything, though.
“Where?” he asked, still looking out of the window.
“Everywhere. At work, at school, here. Everywhere. Always lurking outside of wherever I am.”
“How long?”
“Always.” She paused then joined him at the window.
It was a peculiar sensation to her to be so close to another living, breathing being. She could smell the spice of his cologne, hear his steady breathing, and feel the warmth of his body. Warmth...that was that strangest sense of all- to feel warmth in her world where it was always cold and always night.
“Because you’re lonely in your nightmare let me in... And it’s barren in your garden let me in... Because there’s heat beneath your winter let me in...”
“You can see them, too?” she sounded amazed.
He nodded. She sighed in relief.
“I thought I was crazy...seeing boogey men.”
His expression was dour, his brow knit together in apprehension. “Maybe we’re both crazy.”
When she saw that he was serious, Mia felt something deep down inside stir. It felt like something rolling, prodding, searching, and reaching to break out. It was not an uncommon feeling. After awhile, it settled. Mia rested her cheek against his shoulder- he was nearly a head taller then she. The dark surrounded them- the lights inside flickered and danced and finally went out. For once in her short life, Mia did not feel alone.
“Because you’re so lonely in your nightmare let me in...
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Men fear death as children fear to go in the dark; and as that natural fear in children is increased with tales, so is the other.“ -Francis Bacon
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Even on the darkest night when empty promise means empty hand... When the lights of hope are fading quickly then look to me... I’ll be your homing angel, I’ll be in your head...”
The hall was dark. It was difficult to see much of anything. There was eeriness to it all. Mia shuddered as she fumbled for the light switchpreteen models.ru. Her fingertips grazed the switch plate. Light swathed the narrow corridor. She was embarrassed to have him see where she lived.
The apartment was cramped quarters even for one person. There was no distinction between the living room and kitchen, which only had a stove and oven, and a short refrigerator and a minute icebox. In the living room that was little more than open space were a cot, three folding chairs, a wooden chest, and small television. The walls were dinghy and where there was wallpaper, it was cracked and peeling. No matter how much she cleaned, the place was always dirty.
Mia was more than a little worried about having a strange man in her apartment. A thousand thoughts flew through her head and the ones about the recent string of killings lingered longer than the others. She hadn’t expected him to come in...but he did. She hadn’t expected him to stay...but he did.
Lyle’s thoughts were still on the encounter with the man outside and barely noticed the state of disrepair around him. At length, he turned his knife-like gaze on her and noticed her nervousness. He smiled at her- a long, closed-lip smile- an inviting, safe, affable smile- one that gave her every reason in the world to trust him.
Jarod isn’t the only one who can pretend...
Because you’re lonely in your nightmare let me in...
If the dearth of her home bothered him, he was gracious enough not to say so. He lounged against a wall in the kitchen, arms folded over his waist and one foot crossed over the other.
“Mia,” he said, letting her name roll over his tongue as though it were sweet wine. “Mia...is that short for Amelia?” Cleverly, Lyle sought to confirm her identity as the Seventh Member by disguising his inquisition in small talk.
Mia seemed to sag against the stove, ashen and cold. She started to shake her head “no”, then stopped, looked at him helplessly, and shrugged.
“I don’t know,” she admitted.
Lyle raised his eyebrows. He couldn’t say honestly that he was surprised. The Centre was rather keen on only giving projects first or last names, never both. The stripping of one’s identity was the first step in assuming control.
“Last name?” he queried, already knowing the answer.
It was that moment, when she looked up at him, that he first truly noticed her eyes. They were mammoth and stormy gray like the sea in dire weather. And in those eyes was all the sadness of the world. To his surprise, Lyle discovered that he could not look long into her gaze for fear he would drown.
“I can’t remember,” she said in a hushed tone. “I must have one...everyone does.”
Not everyone...
“What about family?”
She looked away from him, her features marred in concentration. Finally, she spoke. “I do have a family,” she sounded a bit uncertain as though minutiae were hard to recall. “I know my father is in prison. And my mom had a breakdown when he was convicted- she’s been in Bellevue State Hospital ever since...”
How convenient, he mused. I wonder what role the Centre played in all that?
“I have a brother,” she went on, sounding even more doubtful than before. “And maybe a sister. But I have no idea where they are.”
I’ll bet the Centre does...
“You must think I’m stupid for not knowing my own past.”
“I see the delta traces living lonely out on the limb. And a passing glimmer warm beneath your skin..”
He heard something in her voice break. He found himself suddenly by her side.
“Not all,” he declared, in complete honesty, “I can sympathize actually.”
She stared at him in disbelief. “Really?”
He inclined his head slightly. His fingertips brushed her cheek. “I only have one name myself.”
Even after discovering my parentage, I wasn’t allowed to claim the name Parker, he thought bitterly. His sister’s image flashed into his head. He could feel the anger burning within- that old familiar feeling of hate began to boil again.
He turned his thoughts to the pretty thing before him.
“Must be lucky weather when you find the kind of wind that you need. C’mon show me all the light and shade that made your name... I know you’ve got it in your head, I’ve seen that look before- You’ve built your refuge turns you captive all the same...”
“How long have you been having these memory failures?” he asked, removing his hand from her face and returning to his place by the wall.
Mia, who had been unable to breathe while he had been so close, inhaled a gulp of air.
“Dunno. I can remember my childhood up to eight shortly before my dad was arrested. Then some things here and there, but it’s like there are large chunks of time that are missing. Black gaps that I can’t fill in. Some times I wake up in places and I don’t know where I am or how I got there.”
She noticed his gaze continually shifting to the window and outside world. She watched as he moved to the portal and peered out through the broken, dust-laden blinds.
“They’re always there,” she informed him solemnly and suddenly.
He whipped around as though she had startled him. She saw the flash of metal under his jacket- it didn’t faze her.
Maybe he’s cop...It was possible. They had come after her before because of an interest in her father...not that she could tell them anything, though.
“Where?” he asked, still looking out of the window.
“Everywhere. At work, at school, here. Everywhere. Always lurking outside of wherever I am.”
“How long?”
“Always.” She paused then joined him at the window.
It was a peculiar sensation to her to be so close to another living, breathing being. She could smell the spice of his cologne, hear his steady breathing, and feel the warmth of his body. Warmth...that was that strangest sense of all- to feel warmth in her world where it was always cold and always night.
“Because you’re lonely in your nightmare let me in... And it’s barren in your garden let me in... Because there’s heat beneath your winter let me in...”
“You can see them, too?” she sounded amazed.
He nodded. She sighed in relief.
“I thought I was crazy...seeing boogey men.”
His expression was dour, his brow knit together in apprehension. “Maybe we’re both crazy.”
When she saw that he was serious, Mia felt something deep down inside stir. It felt like something rolling, prodding, searching, and reaching to break out. It was not an uncommon feeling. After awhile, it settled. Mia rested her cheek against his shoulder- he was nearly a head taller then she. The dark surrounded them- the lights inside flickered and danced and finally went out. For once in her short life, Mia did not feel alone.
“Because you’re so lonely in your nightmare let me in...
