All in Your Head

Damien didn't even bother answering her question about going outside. He'd been out to visit the therapist. That was enough. He had no need to go out a second time. He stepped back and gestured for her to come inside, pointing the way to the bathroom. It was the one room he kept decently clean because dirty bathrooms were just gross.

"Help yourself," he told her. "Um. What happened?" He hovered at an awkward distance, not sure if he should follow her or go stand in the corner until she was finished. Ugh, when did social interactions get to be so complicated?? Alright, maybe being around Eddie would at least help him sharpen his rusty skills.
 
She stepped in and looked past all the clutter that still inhabited the room, the chalkboards in the back filled with new writing and old writing had been erased. The bathroom was the cleanest space in the basement, which was a relief; she didn't bother closing the door because all she wanted was to wash her hands and clean herself up a bit. As she pumped soap from the dispenser in her hands and began to lather it into her skin, she eyed her appearance in the mirror. She looked even more disheveled than Damien, perhaps because his 'worn' clothing was still more expensive than her everyday clothing, but just, in general, she was a bit of a mess; hair a bit frizzy, under eyes dark from her wacky sleep schedule, and still a bit pale even in the summer sun because she was not going at as much lately-- all that didn't sound too far off from how Damien was looking, it was just that it was not a norm for Damien as much as it was for her.

"This guy came up to my car in the parking lot, said he was the one that crashed into us-- er, well, I guess, assisted in putting you into a coma." Edith corrected, unsure if Damien recalled much of it, still. She rinsed her hands and dried them on the hand towel resting on a dowel beside the sink. "Got any mouthwash?" She trailed off, poking around the shelves inside the mirror. Pill bottles rattled as she pushed them out of the way, they were unopened, which confirmed to Edith that his behavior was not based on the medication prescribed to him. A bottle of minty blue antiseptic mouthwash sits on the top shelf next to a toothbrush, she grabs it and pours some of the liquid in the cap before sipping it and swishing it around her mouth. She gargles, spits, puts the mouthwash back, then rinses her mouth. "But, what was really weird.." She finally continued, "is that he told me he had this dream about it, and like, he felt that there was some strange presence with us, like God or something, I don't know." She shook her head and shrugged, being met with her reflection in the mirror again. She ran a hand in her hair to tame it a bit and sighed. "Just freaked me out, y'know?" Edith walked out and shuffled over to Damien.

"Anyway, it's a bunch of nonsense, don't worry about it." She shrugged it off.
 
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He kicked some stuff around as he waited in a show of "cleaning up." He wasn't paying much attention at first, nodding along as he listened and tried to push more junk under the couch. That didn't really work. There was already way too much junk under there already, but it was worth a try. He really should tidy up around here.

"But, what was really weird is that he told me he had this dream about it, and like, he felt that there was some strange presence with us, like God or something, I don't know."

He froze. His heart skipped a beat then started thundering harder. His eyes rose to stare at her, his face pale. "What?" he asked in a strangled tone. "What did you say?"

It couldn't! Could it? No! There's no way! But... why would she lie to him? She didn't know anything at all about that. It had to be true, but how much had he seen??
 
Edith was a bit startled by his sudden response. His voice was normally monotone and uninterested, always distracted by something else. "W-What?" She furrowed her brows. "The dream?" She swallowed, "The guy was spewing Bible talk, that's all, probably went to church a few times to repent for his sins, he thinks the whole thing was 'meant to be'." Edith made air quotes.

"What? Did you have the same dream, or something?" She made a nervous laugh.
 
Damien looked away and shivered. "No, that would be ludicrous. No, not the same dream," he mumbled, "but similar. It was not a dream. It was life turned inside out, all filters removed, the truth revealed!"

He realized his voice had raised with each word, and there was a squeak of hysteria in his tone. He cleared his throat and tried to sound normal. "The brain does strange things when subject to trauma. That is all. That is all there is to it." He walked over to his board and started adding notes in an empty corner.
 
Her shoulders tensed with all the excitement coming from him. She stumbled back and her leg hit the couch, so she sat down. "Okay, uh, not the same dream, got that," Edith said quietly. She watched him scurry to his board and begin to write something down, she stood and followed, watching curiously. "Are you saying, you felt it too? Honestly, it's a miracle that damages were not so much more severe. I mean, we all could have died, but instead all walked out alive and you: with just a bump on the head." She realized that she may have come across a bit insensitive. "Which-- Which of course is not ideal! But, I'm so glad we're all alive, y'know?" Her cheeks flushed, embarrassed.

Do I always talk like my foot is in my mouth?

"I guess what I'm saying is that maybe there is some truth to it, maybe something was watching over us that night." She rubbed her neck. Edith leaned over to try and see exactly what he was noting, but couldn't make it out just yet.
 
Man who struck car had similar vision. Must gain further data. Yes? Or is it corrupt? Must gain data about data.

Damien looked up at Eddie as she fell into an awkward silence. He let the silence drag on a bit longer while he considered covering his work. Nah, she likely wouldn't understand it. The scribblings and ravings of a deranged lunatic, that was all this was. He knew how it sounded, but he could not be bothered to try to defend himself. At least not yet. That would come later.

"I have no doubt something was looking out for us, but I have my doubts it is God, or any type of god," he mumbled. He glanced up awkwardly toward the ceiling. His mother was known to be a rather devoted Methodist, most commonly on Sunday mornings through to about four in the afternoon, but she would never stand for this sort of talk.

"Anyway, you really should cease this unproductive and self-destructive pattern of blaming yourself," he said, turning back to work. "It was not your fault, and I do not blame you. I doubt the others do, either, though I have not seen any of them recently. In any case... it was truly serendipitous. It is as they say, 'It is an ill wind that blows nobody any good.'"
 
The room grew uncomfortably silent as Edith got a clear view of his writing. She noticed how Damien described it as a vision rather than a dream. Moreover, this data, data like it was some experiment to be studied and found the answers to. She was pulled out of her trance when he turned to her and mumbled something along the lines of 'doubting it is the presence of God'. But what other presence could it have been, if not for that? An omen? A demon?

Edith was not a spiritual person, her parents never pushed religion on their children, always busy with work and never really stressing the importance of it, just instilling basic principles such as: ''lying is bad, cheating is bad, murder is bad, etc., etc.". However, Edith will always hold a few, scrambled memories from her early childhood; of her grandmother and her spiritual essences, which would have been Edith's only exposure to anything "otherworldly", besides maybe through movies and books. Her grandmother claimed she could speak to the dead and would often tell Edith stories about having premonitions that came true and dreams of which she had transcended into the ''afterlife'', or a spiritual realm of sorts. These stories would scare the daylights out of Edith, and that is why they still are engraved into her memory so well, otherwise, Edith would have blindsided all of it and never thought about it again, wanting absolutely nothing to do with all of that nonsense. She was perfectly content with the life she inhabited now, why dabble with anything more? With all of this talk of presences and feelings and something controlling their lives against their sheer will, it was a bit unnerving, no matter how open-minded Edith tried to be-- the unknown is just downright, scary. She was at least comforted by the fact that Damien was always so practical and logical, despite having such a dutiful family, he had his, more reasonable beliefs, straying a bit far from theirs; but Edith more so just because she was ignorant rather than taking it upon herself to create her credence, she planned on dipping a toe and experimenting with beliefs later in life, hopefully before it was too late and she comes to face judgment day.

Edith appeared to have been chewing on her cheek in thought during all of this without realizing, she frowned after feeling her teeth pierce through the inside of her mouth and began to taste blood trickling onto her tongue. Damien brought up ''blaming herself'' for everything, which she was in fact guilty of doing, it sounded exactly like something that would come straight out of Dr.Ingram's mouth, which made her snicker. To hear Damien say that he did not blame her, and felt no disdain towards her because of what happened, was perhaps everything that she needed to hear, but embarrassing that this guilt had become so much more prominent than tending to Damien and being there for him during this time. She did not want to feel sorry for herself anymore.

"I-I know..I just, you know how I am." She sighed, "I always have something to feel sorry about." She was in thought for a moment. "For a minute there, I really didn't think you fully remembered what happened, I was afraid you would come out of that coma, hating me," Edith admitted, fiddling with her fingers. It was quiet again. She moved closer to the boards to inspect them better.

"Tell me, what is this data you are trying to collect? Do..do you think something more, happened that night?" Edith was trying to piece it all together, what exactly was he on about?
 
Edith was quiet for a long time, and Damien used the silence to work a little more on his problem, correcting a couple of mistakes and writing some of the numbers clearer. He'd nearly lost himself to the work when Edith spoke again. He glanced at her, mildly surprised, then erased the last section he'd written. That was going nowhere.

"Of course I don't hate you," he said simply, finally turning to face her. "I was highly confused for a while, and i hated the other person briefly, but then I realized it was pointless to feel hatred and anger about an event that was in neither of our controls. It was nothing more than a waste of energy."

He turned back to the board and played with his chalk piece as he stared at his notes. "I... I do think something happened," he finally said. "I think it is still happening, but I am also fully aware of how insane it all sounds. I am trying to find a way to prove it. If I can prove it mathematically, unequivocally, unarguably... then no one can dismiss it."
 
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