Pouring more caffeine down her throat, Augusta settled in for a deep read. The subject matter was alien to her, and if she hadn’t experienced the digging in the woods, the flight through the darkness, and the Other perched in her mind, she would never have sought out such bizarre reading material. But it had happened to her. Now she needed to fight back.
The phone was ringing again, but Augusta barely heard it; she was focused on the site content. Filled with accounts of nameless creatures drawing people into the woods in a trance-like or sleep-walking state to dig them from the ground. Augusta couldn’t tear herself away. According to the information, the creature would then attach itself to the person like a parasite, eating away at their brain until nothing was left but a vegetative state. There were testimonials from people who had similar experiences to hers. Other stories about loved ones who’d gone missing only to return changed, violent, or semi-catatonic. One statement stood out to her, “These parasitic creatures seem to only attach themselves to the right side of the brain, giving them dominion over the left side of the body. There is no logical explanation, that I have found, to explain this phenomenon.” Feeling an odd mixture of horror and vindication, Augusta scanned page after page, searching for any hope of removing it from her skull. There was no information on how to get rid of it.
Shaking fingers perched over the keyboard, Augusta formulated her questions carefully, typed them into the box provided, and sent off an e-mail. There was no guarantee it would be answered or even seen by the recipient, but Augusta had to do something. If this person could help her, if he had any answers, maybe she’d be okay. Pushing away from the desk, she began to pace the floor again, nibbling on her fingernails as she waited for a response.
Once again, the phone began to ring, setting her jagged nerves on edge. As if on cue, the Other raged back into life, filling her mind with such noise, Augusta thought her head would split apart.
“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” Augusta shouted, tearing at her hair, dragging her nails across her scalp, and drawing trickles of blood from her skin.
Behind her, the computer gave a warning ding! Her e-mail had been answered, but it didn’t matter. The Other was gaining control. Fatigue robbed her of the strength to fight back as the Other sent her spiraling into darkness where she was lost even to herself.
Sometime later August groaned and sat up, immediately bringing her right hand up to her head. A thudding, throbbing pain deep in her skull made her head feel heavy.
“Oh, God,” she moaned, her tongue thick in her mouth. “Make it stop.”
Light was filtering in weakly around the drapes, but she was unsure if it was light from the same day or another. Indirect as it was, it was bright enough to intensify the pain in her head.
Staggering to her feet, her body swaying for a moment while her brain tried to decide whether to pass back out or hold her upright, she tried to get her bearings. The room was in disarray, the arm chair lay on its side, the end tables toppled, the bookcase broken, the shelves splintered and the books scattered around the room. She remained on her feet, digesting the mess, with the thudding inside her head beating time with a banging at the door, making it impossible for her to think.
It took some time to weave her way across the wrecked room, but with her hand pressed to her head, her left leg dragging along behind her, Augusta slowly made her way to the kitchen. The Ibuprofen sat on a high shelf over the stove, nestled between an expired bottle of cold medication and a prescription bottle with its label turned away from her. It proved difficult to stand on tip-toe on one foot while finagling the bottle off the shelf with her one hand. To her relief, though the Other didn’t help her, it didn’t fight her either. Still, she knocked the prescription bottle from its place. It bounced off the stove, hit the floor, and rolled across the linoleum. Augusta felt the dull ache of sadness as she watched it roll away, flashing the name of her long dead mother as it went.
Yanking the pain medication from the shelf, she struggled to remove the child safety cap. Unable to pop it off one-handed, she hooked her teeth to bottom of the lid and she pried it free. A sense of relief washed over her as she shook three pills from the bottle and swallowed them dry. They stuck in her throat briefly, but she swallowed hard until she’d forced them down.
The pounding at the door was relentless. There was now a panicked voice weaving through the heavy knocking, calling her name. The voice was familiar, but the identity of its owner lost to her, flitting about in the haze beneath her skull. Augusta rubbed her temple wishing the headache would ease so she could concentrate. Her brain felt foggy. Between the throbbing and the Other, she couldn’t seem to focus.