Status: it wasn't supposed t

when i wake back up in the hotel, i'm standing where Rabbithead was, out in the hall, staring in the pool room. i can see Montag inside, still curled on the floor. even from this distance, and through the warp in the glass doors, i can see her trembling.

i wonder how long she's really been asleep. has this hotel always been her dream? when she killed Silvia, did they both just get transported here (along with a dragon, apparently, whatever the fuck that meant)? had i been crashing on her personal nightmare-purgatory-hell for all these years?

was I real?

i didn't know. and i didn't like that.

the doors slide open for me. my bare feet slap against the wet tile. "you told three lies, actually," i say. "or even more. god knows how many more."

"Naomi," she croaks, "i swear i didn't know until she attacked me. i promise on my life."

"how long have you been here?"

"a month."

"really? because she's been here since i've been here," i jab a finger toward the corpse, "and i've been here a hell of a lot fucking longer than a month."

Montag's head lolls, her wet hair curling against the tile like little furls of smoke. "i don't know. Naomi, i'm so sorry. i'm so sorry. i didn't know. i don't know what's happening to me."

"but you knew what was happening to me. how long have you known i'm Rabbithead?"

her eyes flutter open, but she's staring somewhere past me. there are sticky trails of tears all over her face. a new puddle of dark blood is forming beneath her, distilling to grey as it mixes with the little puddles of saltwater. "since i first met you. when you're gone, when you're awake, you're still in here. you're just her. she's..." Montag coughs, wet and ripping. something in my chest twinges, but i don't let it bloom into sympathy. "she exists to protect you, i think. to guard you from what's really following you."

i bare my teeth. "yeah? and what's really following me, Agent Montag?"

she lifts a trembling hand and points to the far side of the pool, where the shadow figure with the branch hands hovers in the corner. "it latched onto you on the road," she croaks. "whenever you've killed Rabbithead, it's gotten closer to you."

"okay," i say flatly. "it was attacking you earlier."

"no. it wasn't. it was just drawn to what was."

"and what would that be?" i cross my arms. "a dragon?"

"it lives in the walls," she whispers.

i jut my chin out and take a good hearty stare at the blank expanse of white wall across from me. there are little specks of black mold along the paint where moisture has condensed and turned to rot. then, slow and deliberate, i hold out a hand. after a moment, she takes it. i haul her to her feet, shoulder almost popping out of the socket from her dead weight, even as she tries to use her other hand to push herself off the floor.

and before she can catch her balance, i press one hand against the center of her chest and push. not hard. just hard enough that she stumbles backward a little. her feet slip on the water. the momentum carries.

there's fury burning on her face as she drops into the pool and disappears beneath the waves.

the entire room quivers like an earthquake. like a sigh. i hear the scrape of muscle on concrete as something big shifts through the walls, which, for a moment, seem to bulge and then contract, as if they're breathing.

there's a trickle of water as the corpse in the pool lifts its head.

i'm not watching her, though. the door has already slid shut behind me.

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