--I wrote Time-Less for the sci-fi competition, so this is the follow on from that. xx--

I have Dreams. Dreams which I can't explain. Dreams that feel so real, it's as if they are memories. Sometimes I feel as if I am awake, and it's happening in front of me, other times, I just dream of nothing. It's either The Dream, or just a blank. Something happened to me in reality. Something I can't remember when I have my eyes open; but when I sleep, relive it in flashes.


6. Home

"My time is now."

John Turner

I clenched my teeth tightly together, glancing back at the girl. I was dragging her behind me by her wrist.

Surprisingly, she hadn't protested to being taken by a complete stranger. She has absolutely no concept of self preservation. Probably why I've had to save her life so many times. How careless.

I ground my teeth together. Jordan was right. How... annoying.

I coughed, my chest sounding like a chainsaw, rattling as air rocketed out of my throat. I clutched my chest with my spare hand, rasping for breath. My hand around the humans wrist tightened its grip as I pulled her along the Thames towards my place of residence.

I wouldn't call it a home, but it's where I stay when I am bored and annoyed with being wasted like a pen continually in use doing worthless unproductive things, my ink quickly running low until I am tossed aside, no longer of any use.

I pushed open the door of the grotty apartment reception, and stalked straight past the fat lout of a receptionist who had do-nut and coffee stains trailing down a grimy grey vest, which was once white a long time ago.

He was holding a chocolate bar in one podgy fist, and in the other he was staring down at a betting slip. He was listening intently to the radio as the commentator screamed and shouted at the antics of some men kicking a ball up and down a field.

I dragged the girl up the stairs, glaring at the graffiti that marred the yellowed and moulding walls. The lift had never been working, it was only there for decoration.

I pulled her up the stairs to the top floor. She offered no resistance, but I could feel her eyes burning holes into the back of my skull. I shoved open the door and threw her into the room, fumbling with the locks, before turning and sighing. I leant heavily against the door and sank to the floor, resting my head on my knees. My body was involuntarily trembling, and I was breathing heavily. It was accelerating quickly. 

'Are you okay?' She asked, stepping towards me. I lifted my head and glared at her. She backed off.

'I'm fine. Sit.' I told her, concentrating on breathing. I had stayed in my solid form too long, and in my current condition, it just makes it worse.

I felt her glaring at me, but ignored it as she primly sat down on the chaise lounge.

Despite this place being an absolute tip from the outside, Elaine had ensured the interior of my apartment was of good quality and expensive. It was an open plan sitting room and kitchen, with a single bedroom. It was comfortable, and I appreciated the effort Elaine had put into decorating it. If it was left to me, I'd be roaming the streets all the time, suffering.

At least here, the affects were gradually lessened. This was my personal space, no human apart from a weekly maid had entered here.

'Why have you brought me here?' She asked, sounding annoyed. I ignored her and slowly stood up. I staggered across to an oak bureau and pulled out a bottle of whisky. I drunk it straight from the bottle, savouring the sharp taste and wincing at the burning flavour as it trailed down my throat. After being in my solidified form, I had become wet from the rain which hammered against the wall to wall windows that gave me a view across the Thames and part of London.

'I wanted to.' I croaked, staring at her as I took another slug of the whiskey. I stretched out my back as I staggered across to the arm chair opposite her. I slumped into it, dangling the bottle from my fingertips, staring down at the amber liquid as it swirled around, making patterns appear across the floor.

'Excuse me?' She asked, her voice steadily filling with anger.

'Must I repeat myself? Such a waste.' I muttered. I leant forwards, slurring my words as I slowly repeated myself.

'I... Wanted... To.' I paused between each word, my face inches away from hers. She flinched away, her face disgusted at the smell of alcohol that covered my breath.

'That's not good enough. What happened back there?' She asked, crossing her arms. She'd placed her bag of food on the floor, water saturating my carpet.

'Does it matter?' I slurred, taking another swig. Jason's revelation that he knew I was ill again had shaken me up. I thought I'd managed to avoid the others enough and act healthy when I was around them. He was surprisingly perceptive for an overgrown surfer look alike.

'Er, yes. First a giant god looking man appears out of no-where and starts accusing and threatening me, then you appear out of thin air and beat him up and drag me to the other side of London. It matters.' God looking? I thought. Jordan would love that.

'Are you hurt?' I asked, staring blankly at the floor, my face devoid of any emotion.

'What?' She asked, leaning forward slightly to try and hear me.

'Are you hurt?' I asked, my eyes burning as they stared into her cool green irises. She blinked in shock and shook her head.

'Good. I'm too tired to move, let alone kill that stuck up surfer.' I muttered, taking another gulp of whisky. My world was going woozy. I wasn't used to drinking.

'You'll have to stay here... till morning. Can't... do anything now. Too much whisky.' I slurred, taking another drink.

'If you're too drunk don't drink any more.' She snapped, standing and snatching the bottle from my hands. I slowly raised my head and glared at her as she put the bottle in the bureau. 

I reversed time so the bottle appeared back in my hand.

I heard her squeal in shock and glared harshly at her before finishing the bottle of whisky.

I grabbed her hand, and jerked her towards my bedroom. This time, she resisted me. She clawed at my face with her spare hand, her nails surprisingly sharp as they scratched across my cheek. I felt blood dribble down my cheek as she began screaming and thumping me, pulling hard against me. I ignored her and threw her into my room. She fell on the king-size bed and spun, staring at me with pure terror and something that resembled regret.

'You sleep here.' I said, gradually regaining my normal mind, along with an awful headache.

I pressed a hand to my temples, closing my eyes as I turned away and shut the door on her.

I can not remain drunk or numb for more than a few minutes. I recover quickly from being drunk, going straight into a painful hangover. 

I would reverse her memory now, but I'd remained in my physical body for too long. 

I felt my insides churning, and my bones aching as though they'd been hit a thousand times with a sledgehammer and had not broken, yet felt the pain of being broken. 

I went through the transition, changing into my ethereal form, abandoning holding onto my physical body. I still felt the pain, despite being in my spirit form. 

This was the worse it had ever been.

My slow and painful, repetitive destruction.

You see, Time cannot die. Yet I can suffer enough to wish I was dead.

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