Young Writers Society

“Guilt is such a human emotion. And you’re not trying to be human, are you?”

Harry took the whiskey bottle back from the form and wandered, How much is real this time?Conversations like this were always happening within her head but now they were getting out of hand. The visual was probably being brought on from the overall stress of the situation. But this was a happy pain. This wasn’t like before.

“I’m losing my grip on the pain. All the kinds of pain that decided to take and you are just another sign of impending breakdown. Why the fuck do you always show up?”

“I’m not sure which way to take that answer and you know I can’t answer it. I already have or more you already have.”

She thought about a real answer to the human question. Of course, she didn’t try to have such human qualities. Of course, she hadn’t chosen to have some of her more human qualities.

But that’s what fucking happens when someone takes over your planet. I’m human like because you fuckers made me like that.

“Bahtaa, it’s better to be a human than it is to be one of us?”

“Us?”

“Non-conforming humanoid species. The Federation likes to pretend we don’t exist because we don’t look enough like them. On Earth, the ended their squabbles over skin color but if you have spines instead of freckles, then you’re automatically invalidated.”

“Oh.”

The image beside Harry started to flicker and for a moment completely disappeared, bouncing back beside her. In a far-off corner, seemingly miles away, Harry could hear Will starting to rise. It was time to cut this visit short and think about other things, mainly the person she would wake up next to.

Time to get back to the real world where everyone would be downstairs beginning to worry.

“Maybe they already are. Or maybe Cati took a quick enough scan to know you were indisposed.”

“You know that has a very specific connotation, right?”

“I know as long as you do, Major.”

Bahtaa took the bottle from Harry’s hands and it refilled to its previous value.

“Did you think we were really drinking?”

She sighed and pulled away from the ghost.

“I’ll take that as a no. and we really should do this more often.”

“Go die in hell you whore.”

Bahtaa stood up, straightening vir coat and stepping to the edge of the rooftop. Before taking a step further back, they called out to Harry.

“Already been. Thanks to you.”

“Just go away.”

“As you wish.”

The spirit crossed vir arms, blinked and dove off the building in a back flip position. Harry ran to the edge, looking for a body before remembering that Bahtaa was never really there.

Or at least not in an explainable way.

“Dramatic as ever.”

Harry found herself restating the line a few times, clicking her heels with a sarcastic effect. Her boots were the wrong color to bring about any sort of magical exit for this new episode, but the line was still holding enough value.

Slowly the scene came back to her as Will talked to her.

“Harry, what are you doing over there?”

“Oh I just thought I saw somebody on the street.”

Will climbed out of the chair and stretched her legs while muttering, “Oh I’m sure.”

Harry collected Will into her arms, trying to feel a warm touch but failing to make a connection.

“Don’t you believe me?”

“With all the lies you’ve told recently, maybe.”

The guilt was rushing over her again and even though Harry heard the playful voice attached to the message, it wouldn’t stop. Will might be joking this time. It might all be another part of their late night activities with everything being interconnected now.

But what about the next time? When she’s serious?

“Ready to go make dinner?”

Harry realized she was still holding Will in a tight embrace. More Harry realized that Will was still there.

“Will, do you think they’re wondering about us downstairs?”

“I doubt it. They either think we’re fighting or getting it on. Or really I guess they would come to conclusion of both because that’s what happened.”

Will leaned up to kiss her and Harry answered out of habit, but her mind was already starting to drift.

I’m losing control.

I can’t lose control.

Not this time.

“What do you think about spaghetti?”

She still wasn’t there to answer the question and blurted out the simplest thing the back of her mind could come to.

“Sounds great.”

Will must have accepted the answer as satisfactory because she pulled away and left Harry’s line of sight. The slight touch of warmth left her body and Harry was standing alone on the rooftop again.

She then saw Will collect the few belongings that got dropped on the concrete floor, mainly a thin pair of underwear. Will’s glasses had fallen into the stack as well and Harry watched as she slipped them on in such an elegant way. Like someone maneuvering through a ballroom or a sniper placing a round in their gun.

The two metaphors weren’t matching, and the bothersome pain was starting to roll back into her head.

Control.

I need to have control and then it will all be fine.

It will all be fine.

A voice slipped into the back of her mind and she could swear it was whispering “Lies.”

It will all be fine.

“Harry, are you coming?”

She snapped back to the present again to see Will starting down the staircase. Her gaze moved to the whiskey bottle that had magically refilled itself and was resting against the edge of the roof top.

“I think I might stay up here for a bit. Enjoy the cold breeze and the scenery along the street.”

“What a shame, I was just going to shower.”

Harry looked over the edge of the building, down to the whiskey bottle on the floor and did a quick analysis of her priorities. Would she rather follow her fiancé down the stairs or stand mournfully on a rooftop?

The decision came quicker than she had originally imagined, and the roof top door swung shut, leaving the bottle of whiskey alone by the chaise lounge. She turned back for a moment to the sound she heard rattle in the staircase but soon hurried down to help Will with her…clothes.