Struggle For Control

Alex walked
into Mort’s house, sweaty and muddy. The
couple had been working all day on the laapinaping in the yard.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> Since their decision to move in together - and
sell Mort’s house - Mort knew that the property would need some improvements before
he put it on the market. The house itself was now fine, but the landscape left
much to be desired. All morning,
through the early afternoon, he and Alex dug and mulched and planted.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> Both of them loved the outdoors and didn’t
mind getting their hands dirty, so to speak.

“Can I
shower?” Alex asked.

Mort smiled
and shook his head. “You have to ask?”

Alex
giggled. “It’s polite.”style="mso-spacerun: yes"> She playfully kissed the tip of his nose and
disappeared into the bathroom.

Hey.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> Mort didn’t hear the voice right away.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> You’d better listen up, buddy.

“What the…”

&nb> 

Much
better. Listen to me – make up an
excuse and get out of here.

“Get
out? There’s a gorgeous, naked woman in
my bathroom and…why are you here?”

Took
you long enough to ask. Listen to me –
get out. He’s not happy with what she’s
done.

“He can’t
come around anymore.” Mort walked to
the kitchen counter and picked up his prescription bottle.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> He was going to shake it in triumph, but
found that it was empty. “Shit!”style="mso-spacerun: yes"> He looked at the date.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> “Forgot to refill…wait a minute, missing one
dose…”

Will
be just enough. He’s pissed off – more
at Alex than you. She’s the one who
suggested Dr. Harris and…

Mort’s face
drained of its color. “He can’t come
back. He can’t.”

He
can and he very well might. Make up an
excuse and leave. Listen to…style="mso-spacerun: yes"> The voice died out.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> Mort froze in his place.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> Standing before him was Shooter.

“Thought
I’d just go away, Mr. Rainey?”

“You’re not
real,” Mort said surely.

Shooter
smiled. “I’m as real as you are,
boy. I am you.”

“You’re
not. You are a result of a stress and
fried nerves.”

“Doctor’s
fancy talk ain’ all it’s cracked up to be.
If it was, I wouldn’ be here now, would I?” Mort didn’t answer. “That
woman in your shower’s gonna ruin your life – my life, Mr. Rainey and I
simply can’ stand for that. I want
out. I’m s’posed to be out, but she’s
gone and taken that away from me. That
upsets me.”

“You will not
touch her.” Mort’s voice was firm,
unshaken.

“I won’
hurt her, Mr. Rainey. Not yet anyway.”

Mort was persistent.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> “You are not real.”

Shooter’s voice was cold and
unnervingly calm. “I’m everythin’
you’re too scared to be, pilgrim. You
need me to survive.” He looked at the
empty bottle in Mort’s hand. “And that
there has made you weak, Mr. Rainey.
You missed it once and here I am.”
He then looked down the hall at the closed bathroom door.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> “And there she is.”

Mort became suddenly desperate, too
concerned for Alex’s safety. “Please,
don’t hurt her,” he pleaded. you want me to do? Anything – I’ll do
anything to keep you from hurting her.”

Shooter smiled.
“I’ll take you up on that offer, Mr. Rainey. How ‘bout you go take yourself one of those naps you’re so fond
of?” Mort’s eyes closed, then slowly
opened again. Shooter was gone and a
smirk spread across his face.

“Time to check on the little lady,”
Mort said, his voice coated with a thick Mississippi accent.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> “She’ll notice this,” he said, thinking
about how he sounded. An idea struck him.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> “…or maybe not.”

No…God no! style="mso-spacerun: yes"> Mort was trapped inside himself.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> For the first time, he was aware of what was
going on – what Shooter was doing. Mort
heard himself laugh.

“Thought you might want to stick
around for this one, Mr. Rainey.” He
walked downstairs to the office and retrieved the black hat from underneath the
couch where Mort had shoved it. “I do
wish you wouldn’ try and keep this from me.”

Don’t touch her, fucker!style="mso-spacerun: yes"> Mort had never felt so helpless in his
life…he couldn’t understand what was going on.
He was unable to control a single movement of his body, and that alone
was enough to make him feel crazed. Let
me out!

“When I’m finished!” Shooter said sternly.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> “You’ve taken so much away from me, Mr.
Rainey. Only fair I take a little from
you.”

No!style="mso-spacerun: yes"> Mort fought, but soon realized how weak he
felt. It was hopeless.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> He was trapped and he was going to be forced
to watch.

“Don’
worry, Mr. Rainey, you’ll have the stomach for this.”