Freedom. (Quinn and Lupus)

Quinn was deep in his mind. He was trying to imagine where he now could be since that was the only thing he could do. But why were his dreams taking him to places he never thought of or even heard of before? Who would want to dream about waking up in a pile of stale crumbs while it thundered oddly in the background? He surely must be back where he was before though, right? There was a strong wind, just like before. Although… he didn’t remember the salty smell… Besides, why did everything feel so… real even though he was dreaming?

Consumed in his thoughts, Quinn didn’t even hear as the creature landed nearby. He didn’t even hear it walk up to him and then ask him a question. He was so wrapped up in a memory that suddenly came to him. He was trying to put one and two together, but being an abused teenager who knew absolutely nothing about the outside world, it was far too complicated for him. Quinn was too ignorant about things that normal, everyday people would know. His brows furrowed under the gauze.

What was this memory from? Why couldn’t he remember it properly…? Why-- What was that noise?

The train of questions stopped flowing in his head when he suddenly heard it. It was very slight sound--due to his disability,his other senses were heightened. Quinn froze; every muscle in his body became stiff. He had wanted to run and escape this time, but he couldn’t. Horror overwhelmed him, just like before.

Quinn knew it was his father again. It had to be. Why wouldn’t it? He has come back to terrorize his own son in his very own dreams. It was like he was making up for the times he wasn’t able to give him a visit in person. He had to be creeping up on him this time, trying to surprise Quinn. That’s why the movements were so slow sounding. Or was he giving him a chance to run so he could chase him?

His own imagination was driving him over the edge into a mental breakdown. Quinn’s whole body vibrated with fear as he stood waiting. Soon, his legs gave from under him and he dropped to the ground; the whatever-it-was quickly clung onto exposed skin. In his head, he could hear his father laughing at him, mocking him for how weak he was. Quinn’s shaking hands found their way out of the whatever-it-was and raked through his messy hair, gripping it as he knelt half bent over.

‘Stop messing with me!’ Quinn pleaded in his head as if he could be heard. ‘If you’re going to hit me, just do it! PLEASE.’ Tearless, muffled sobs could be heard from Quinn as he waited painfully for something that wasn’t bound happen anytime soon. He continued to scream pleads in his head over the non-existent laughter, showing the poor stranger a bit of what Quinn could actually be like.

Quinn flinched as he heard the stranger -- who he thought was his father-- move closer. Involuntarily, he slowly re-positioned himself face-down in the fetal position to defend himself, allowing the whatever-it-was to cover his hair and forehead. But he didn’t give any mind to it, he tried to focus on something else. Something else that would calm his violent trembles and to take his mind somewhere else. He was in the midst of a memory of a children’s book when he heard a voice. It wasn’t his father’s. Nor was it mother’s. Actually, Quinn had no idea who it was.

The voice was soft and kind, but it also sounded worried. It quite the opposite from his mother’s meaningless motherly tone. Quinn’s panic and trembles began to calm and he pushed himself out of the whatever-it-was to sit back on his knees; although he did flinch and scoot back a bit when he felt something soft and tickly brush against his knee.

Now his brain was full of questions once again. Quinn sat there motionlessly, deep in thought, as he faced the empty space above the stranger, thinking that it was a sweet lady kneeling in front of him and looking right back at him. Out of pure curiosity, he reach for the imagined woman with a hand covered in the “stale crumbs” only to find emptiness.

What?

For a moment, there was only the sound of wind and the weird thunder in the background when he suddenly felt something soft bump against his hand. Quickly, he pulled his hand to chest and then held it there with his other. Quinn was now very confused. It wasn’t a person, then? An animal? And again, where was he?

Quinn listened as the creature retreated backwards, and then he slightly smiled--although it was painful-- as he listened to her panic. Only because it was over him. No one had ever worried about him. This stranger was already acting more of a mother than his own.

Simply sitting, he waited for this creature with the lovely voice to help him. Quinn knew he wouldn’t be of any help if he blindly began walking around in a weird environment.

Quinn merely sat motionless as he heard the thing move away. It was a distance away once he heard its voice again; the voice was frantic. Standing up, Quinn decided to at least get out of the incredibly annoying itchiness in which he knelt in. He proceeded to shake it off of himself and brush it from his legs and forehead. The grains had burrowed into his bangs from his previous and rather short panic attack. Wildly, in attempt to sooth the weird sensations that the whatever-it-was caused as it stuck in his hair and scalp, he shook his head. Some of it flew out, but the majority of it stayed put. A frustrated sigh came from his throat.

When the creature had returned, Quinn had his fingers hidden underneath the jungle of his unkempt hair, shaking the grains out as best as he could. This seemed to help him a bit more, but some managed to stay put. Irked, he gave up, letting his thin arms fall to his sides and stood awkwardly in the crumbs. This was the first time he actually wished to be home in his bed. He did not like this new environment. It smelled weird, felt weird, and sounded weird.

Dear Lord, please wake me up…

Quinn heard several objects fall to the ground and flinched, not quite expecting it. He then heard the being talk again. It asked if he knew where he was. At first, he didn’t respond because of course he didn’t. But he believed he was dreaming.

Raising his arms from his sides, Quinn put his palms together and then placed them against his right cheek. He hoped that it understood his gesture, but just in case, he made a rumbley and scratchy noise that sounded similar to a snore. After a moment, he made another gesture by pointing to himself and then shrugging.

A dream world…? A place he cannot leave? This isn’t true. He knew it wasn’t. He went to sleep like any other night. His mother guided him onto his knees at the side of his bed and together they prayed like they always did. Once done, mother helped him up into bed, tucked him in, and put leather buckles around one wrist to restrain him. She cooed him to sleep with a hymn. It was like any other night. It was normal. And this was just a dream, a terrible dream. Mother will shake him from his nightmare like she usually does early in the morning to pray once more before a bland meal in bed. He’s gonna wake up soon. He has to.

Quinn was freaking out again without realizing it. His hands held his head and he quivered slightly as he stood. He was silent, but inside his head he was screaming. He didn’t know what to do or what to exactly think. He’s never been in this situation. Quinn didn’t know what to do without his Voices, without mother; mother always fixed everything. Why was this nightmare so strange and so different from the other ones he has had? Why is this creature trying to tell him that this was real? Is it the Devil trying to lure him from the real world?

Wait…

Quinn’s tense body suddenly relaxed. He slowly lifted his head and straightened as he realized something. If… if this is a place, a different world, away from home… Am I free? he thought to himself slowly. If I believe in this creature, will I not see mother anymore? Father…?

Coming to that conclusion, he now really had to talk to this thing. Using another simple gesture, he move his left hand close to his mouth and imitated the motion of a pair of scissors with two fingers. After a moment of doing that, Quinn gently touched the material that his mother used to sew his lips shut.

Quinn vigorously nodded his head after she stuttered a question. He wasn’t too worried as to why she sounded nervous, he only wanted to ask questions and look around. Moments later, Quinn felt something hard plop down near his feet. He flinched at the suddenness and then reached for it. Groping the object, he quickly knew it was a rock. A slightly pointed one.

A rock…? He thought. He wasn’t quite sure would a rock would do for him. Although it was kind of sharp, he didn’t know if it would tear the material. Even if he did use the rock, he’d have to saw at it, which would probably cause his skin to rip. Quinn didn’t want anymore pain than he already had. He’d just have to find something sharper. Maybe there was a knife somewhere, or a pair of scissors, or just something.

Quinn let the rock fall from his hands and listened as it hit the whatever-it-was. Folding his arms, he waited for the creature to propose different plan.