entrancelogs | + Your imagination can't hurt you! +

Woke up here. Or, uh - just a little ways away.

[He lets her go first before he eventually follows, stooping beneath his untidy demolishing job. He only pauses to scan the room she was kept in one last time, but nothing there looks to be useful. The room is in essence largely bereft, with the exception of the chair and the discarded bits of tape littering the ground.

So he follows her back out.]

Guessing you did too? I mean...looks like it's just us.

[She doesn't look okay. Probably shouldn't bother to ask if she is, but one hand creeps up to the back of his neck as he stares at the ground, straining to process everything that's been thrown at him in the past few minutes.]

Are you...I mean, you okay?

[She glances at him because... she's okay. She said she was okay, didn't she? So why does he have to keep asking? What gives him the right to be nosy or to pry? She's okay. He's just going to have to take that at face value, and stop asking, and fucking move on because she's okay- despite all the shit she has to put up with right now, because Tim was some messed up kid that Chloe couldn't just leave behind in Neverland- so yes, she's fine, even with all the crap he's made her do-

...When did I get so angry at him?

Oh come on it's pretty damn obvious.

She puts a hand over her eyes and squeezes.]

I- I will be. Let's just... get out of here. Come on.

[But she stops short. As far as she can tell, there's no exit. There's only some sort of vault-door with a keypad. The rest of the walls are solid, with no break.]

I thought you said you woke up away from here?

[Yeah, all right, nice job there Tim. Couldn't leave well enough alone, huh? Who are you, Jay? There's something approaching frustration or anger in the way she stiffens slightly - he can recognize it well enough since it's just like looking into a goddamn mirror most times - and he's overstepped his bounds. 'Course he has. He doesn't even know her all that well and yeah, maybe he's just pushing things that shouldn't be pushed.

Just let her change the subject. Let her have that much, at least.

His frown darkens as he takes in the way the room has become considerably less open than he remembers. He marks an unerring line for the walls that've sprung up, seemingly out of nowhere, and applies a tentative pressure with his palms. Unfortunately, they're distressingly solid, wholly inescapable.]

I did.

[He sighs and drops his hands.]

That's new.

[Alright, so apparently there's a wall in the way now. That sure sounds like magic of the Wonderland variety. She watches Tim examine the wall, fairly certain that they're meant to be trapped. Then she goes over to the keypad and examines it.

Four digit code. Awfully familiar, too. Bad memories.

She jabs at the ones, typing out 1111. The keypad gives an annoying buzz and the door remains firmly sealed.

She sighs heavily. Without realizing it she rubs at her wrists, still red from the tape. When she speaks, she tries to keep frustration out of her voice.]

...Do you recognize any of this? Because the door... looks a little familiar.

The vault looks like one you might, uh, see in a hotel.

[A hotel he was definitely in, even if he doesn't remember it. Hopefully this isn't the kind that locks you out for fifteen minutes after four failed tries, because that would be the icing on the shit sundae.]

Other than that, I mean...it could be anyone's TV.

[He contemplates kicking it over out of frustration. The temptation is there, undeniably - more so for the camera, however, so he settles for glowering at it briefly before moving back to the center of the room.]

[She gives the TV a quick look over, randomly hitting buttons here and there, but doesn't see anything special about it... except for the little tape player that's attached. She holds it up for Tim to see.]

It's empty. And anyway, I don't think the TV works.

[So, yeah, a faulty TV will definitely help them figure out the code they need to leave.]

Maybe it only works if the right tape is put in.

[Which is utterly bullshit, he knows, but they're working off Wonderland logic here. Since when has that ever been straightforward? The walls have more or less erected themselves without anyone's say-so.

He moves over to the vault, scowling at the keypad. He punches in a few numbers that he remembers being significant - 1985, 1102 - but it yields nothing.]

That's just...peachy.

Totally melon. [Max replies, without missing a beat. She scans the room more thoroughly this time, actually paying attention.] I don't remember any useful codes...

[Finally she gets to the camera. It looks like it's off.

She tentatively clicks the eject button, and nothing happens. For a moment she thinks it's broken, or maybe she just really hopes that's the case, and feels a wave of relief wash over her.

But then the side pops open with a small click, and there's a little black tape inside. She sighs and takes it out, staring at it.]

[He tries a couple more dates at random - his, and then Alex's - and then on a whim he punches in 0087. The number of entries on that godforsaken channel, however, yields nothing.

At least it's not locking them out with every failure. That's a plus.

The familiar click and slide of an ejecting tape draws his attention, and he glances in Max's direction, frowning.]

What's that?

...The tape from that camera. [She jerks her toward the video camera pointing at the now destroyed wall. Up to now she's still pointedly avoided looking at the chair.

She looks at him with an almost resigned expression, tapping the tape against the palm of the other hand.

They're going to have to watch this, aren't they?]

[He wanders away from the vault to peer at the innocuous black square in her hand. His expression, like hers, closes into something weary and empty, and he abruptly feels - extremely tired.

Great, says Jay's voice somewhere in his fractured memory, dryly, more tapes.

He'd laugh, but it's not funny at all, really.]

I guess we'd better stick it in.

[She looks at him a little sharply, unaware of what's going through his mind. As far as she can tell the tape is going to be about her- it was pointing at her, after all. And she was the one... tied down.

She grits her teeth and grimaces, but finally relents. Her hand shakes slightly as she holds out the tape to him.]

...You do it.

[Why's he got to -

He bites back the urge to snap that she do since she's so eager to, a flare of distaste that coils bitterly beneath his tongue as he swallows it down. She's scared, and for damn good reason. The least he can do is make sure she doesn't have a worse time than she already is.

So yeah. He'll just casually - casually relive his trauma for this. It's fine. It's a stupid tape, and he takes it from her hand, jamming it into the receptacle with a soft click and whir of engaging mechanisms.

The video feed flickers to life, and he only needs to see the first few seconds to know exactly what he's looking at.

Tim blanches.]

[Max stares as the screen comes on, unable to look away despite the mounting horror and disgust. She's unaware that she's holding her breath, watching the words on the screen that make zero sense to her- until a face comes on screen and she breathes out in surprise.

It's unmistakably Tim. She glances at him to make sure, but it's pretty clear already.]

...That's you. Why're you...?

[What's going on? She thought the video would be of her, but it's Tim...]

[Tim's face twists painfully as he glances away, grimacing. He has to muzzle the horrible urge to just - rip the tape out of its receptacle. Tear it apart, shred it, burn it until it curls into useless frizzes of charred plastic. Burn the evidence, just like Alex -

Alex. He shows up in the tape too, right on cue. Haggard, thinner, the lower half of his face a melange of bruises and patchy beard. And Brian gets the drop on him, and Tim's pressed up against the wall, hunched there like something caged until Brian brings the camera over, and Tim just - Tim stops watching.

He's gonna be sick.

He's gonna be fucking sick.

He doesn't need this. He doesn't need this twisted reminder of all the messed-up shit he's done. He doesn't need some random girl knowing that he's something this torn-up, this broken, this wrong.

The lump swells, tightening painfully in his throat. He backs away until the heel of his foot strikes the wall, and then he sinks there to the ground with his back braced against it, head buried in his hands.

He can hear the tearing of static that muffled Alex's screams and the thuds of Tim's fists on his flesh.

It won't make any of it go away.]

[The video goes on- someone following another person through abandoned corridors, and then finally attacking. Max winces as the victim gets knocked out, still confused as to what the heck is going on.

And then the flash of someone tied to a chair. But not her- it's a different place, a different chair, a different person-

Alex Kralie?

Max gasps in alarm, bring her hands up to cover her mouth.]

A-alex?

[Max only vaguely notices Tim reacting in the corner of her eye. Her attention stays locked on the screen... even as her friend gets assailed, knocked down and beaten up by Tim. Punching over and over again...]

Stop it! [She yells involuntarily at the TV. Then she throws a harsh question at Tim, frightened, turning to glance at him with his head in his hands.] What did you do to him? Why-

[She looks back at the screen with mounting horror as it goes black and silent, breathing heavily and at a loss for words- until a gun is pointed at Alex's head.]

What the fuck is going on?

[And then something- something appears and it all gets too loud, and Max backs into the wall as well, not understanding a damn thing.]

Who- [Who was that, she thinks. What was that? But she changes the question as she turns to look at Tim, her expression a cross between anger and fear.] Who... are you?

[He expected scathing judgment. He expected to be screamed at for beating up an apparently defenseless guy roaming the halls (a murderer, an arsonist, someone who didn't deserve what was coming to him), and he expected - god, he expected any number of responses.

He didn't expect her to recognize Alex. How the hell does - how does she know him? He didn't think that anyone would. No one would. Alex was an antisocial asshole even before he got launched off the deep end. She's not - she can't know -

His blood runs cold. He locks his gaze onto her in stunned terror. He can't for the life of him stop shaking.]

How do you...you knew him?

[The words rasp out of his throat, high-pitched and shocked.]

How'd you know him?

[She rounds on him, ignoring the rest of the video. In a moment of calm she would rethink accusing a guy who's huddled up on the floor, obviously in distress- but Alex Kralie died and she hasn't figured out who did it.]

He was my friend. A few months ago he died and disappeared. So you tell me, Tim, how do you know him? [She crosses her arms over her chest, trying to be brave, letting the anger drive her words.] And were you-... were you here? Were you already in Wonderland when we had those parties back in September?

He's...

[He's her friend. Her friend? Alex didn't - Alex didn't have friends. He never stood still, so to speak, long enough for anyone to get to know him. And anytime he did, most of them just couldn't stand to be around him for longer than a few minutes.

So he was -

He was here. He was in Wonderland. And now he's not. He's dead. Disappeared.

Of course he's dead. That's not the surprise. The surprise is that he was here at all in the first place. Tim swallows thickly, hoping to god that he's not about to be sick.]

I knew him. He and I were - I knew him. I didn't know...no one told me he was here.

[The words crack, his tone tearing as it lands somewhere between stricken and horrified.]

Were what?

[She watches him, takes in the catch in his voice, notes his hesitation and distress. She wants very much to not be mad at him- but the honest truth of it is that she is, that she just saw him beat up her friend... That all this time someone in Wonderland knew something about Alex and she had no clue.

She huffs.]

...Were what?

[She asks him again, her tone sharp and demanding.]

I knew him.

[He can't say they were friends. That'd be another lie, wouldn't it? Could he say they were - what, enemies? That's even worse. He hadn't wanted to do it. He hadn't wanted to make it all just...

He'd tried. He'd tried. It was never enough. It never is enough.

He keeps speaking into his hands, unable or unwilling to look up at her, the words muffled, torn.]

We went to the same school. He was just some guy making a film. It wasn't supposed to go like that.

[This wasn't supposed to happen.]

[They went to the same school.

Fuck.

She just now remembered- Alex had made a list of names once and crossed them out, in one of his crazy night-time episodes, and he... She can't remember the names, but when she asked him who they were, he said they were a bunch of people he went to school with.

Tim and Alex went to school together.

She instinctively checks her pockets for her device so she can look up that old video, but the event seems to have taken it away.

She crouches down next to him, steadying herself with a hand on the floor. Her voice is quieter but no less firm, no longer driven purely by anger but also by a compelling curiosity. She has to know this story. She has to know what happened to Alex.]

Go like what?

[Tim makes a strangled-sounding noise in the back of his throat, jerking a hand vaguely in the direction of the TV as it plays that - that stupid, stupid tape. The thing that'll just make it...

She saw It.

She saw It, didn't she?

She saw It.

Fuck. Fuck. No. No, now It's - is It inside her now too? Is she gonna keep seeing It? It's his fault, it's his fault, it's his fault, he did this he did this he did this he did this.

He finally looks up at her. His eye are wild, panicked.]

You didn't see It, did you? Did you see It?

[Confusion drowns out the harshness of her expression as she follows the jerk of his hand, glancing toward the now blank TV.] It? What, the-

[The static thing.

The thing that made the video go crazy and the sound go nuts, just like Alex used to do.

The... monster... thing.

She turns back to Tim, afraid, and further put on edge by the wildness in his eyes. She shakes her head as she tries to reason it all out.]

Newsflash, Tim, there are... crazier things in Wonderland than whatever was on that video.

[She says it with a confidence she doesn't have.]

[He makes a sound that could've been a laugh, but mostly emerges as a cracked sob as he covers his face in his hands again.]

How well'd you know Alex, huh? [The words might as well be screamed, the way they break in his throat, a fracturing accusation that manages to be both desperate and scathing.] How well'd you know him before he started -

[Before he lost it? Before Tim entered his life, and turned everything to shit? Before Tim made him the person he was, the hateful, murderous thing that saw killing everyone, killing the people that knew him, as an acceptable solution?

He wasn't in control. He was never in control.]

That...thing. It took him. It changed him. It - It does stuff to you. You don't know, okay, you - you can't know.

[The only people who know are the people who have to live with it.

And by that point it's already too late for them.]

+ Your imagination can't hurt you! +

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Hope this is okay!!

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cw suicide ideation

:(

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