Alter Arlo

by Nordika Night

“Night, tree friends,” he said, whistling as he sauntered off.

Zade held up a pack of cigarettes, only one was missing. He opened it, and on the inside flap, there was a message. ‘Call me, maybe.’ “He left this for you.”

“Who do you want to belong to?” “Nothing.” Me. I was nothing.

Chaos. Serenity. Danger. Bravery. Safety. Love. Lust. Regret. Sleepiness.

“I think I was in one once.” He clucked his tongue again. “When I stand in one, it feels familiar.”

“I’m pissed the fuck off because it hurts!” I thrust into his throat. “I hate that he isn’t here with me in the flesh. I hate that he left me to suffer with his fucking twin, forever taunting me with the same body, same face, same voice.” I reached inside Keiran’s hood, gripping his hair to fuck his face. “I’m angry because I’m breaking, but I never want the pain to stop. If it stops, it means I forget!”

Despite how much we hated each other, reality and fate kept us fighting for the other’s life, always inadvertently protecting one another while refusing to admit it.

“Cages are comfort,” he said, startling me enough to have my knees clacking together. “They are safe. Nothing can get you.”

“Good and bad are subjective. Good people do bad things for good reasons. Bad people do bad things for reasons that are good to them.”

“I get confused a lot. I have epilepsy and critical voices in my head. It’s hard for me to think about myself when all my mind wants to focus on is data and analytics and tuning out those voices, so it’s hard to turn off at times. That lab was the only place I ever felt like myself. It was the only place my mind was…mine. That’s…that’s what you just made me feel.”

“I told you, I’m not afraid of them. The thought of them simply repulses me.” His eyes found mine. “But…not yours. Not with you. Only you.”

You have an addictive personality, Finn.

but the last thing I remember thinking was that it was weird he hadn’t put his gloves back on.

He studied Keiran’s writing on the filter and smiled at it. “You really do have Keiran.”

“He’s not crazy,” I defended, even though he most certainly was crazy. “He’s my stalker.” He snorted. Yeah, those two sentences sort of contradicted, but whatever. Zade wouldn’t get it because he didn’t know Keiran.

He blanketed himself in a layer of lethal, radiated danger and showcased crazy. He was embodying the psycho killer Doom had introduced his act as, and he was doing a damn good job. A small twang pricked in my chest for the poet, riddle-writer, and actor he wanted to be but never got to be. Maybe this was as close to an acting gig as he’d ever get.

Keiran was ripping illnesses from my body and infecting me with his own, and more than anything, I wanted to die in the name of his noxious fumes.

“Desire for what?” Keiran asked him, the tip of his cock teasing my lips. I licked it, tasting his pre-cum. “For you.” “Wrong, because it isn’t entirely right,” Keiran said. “For you.”

“Because he wants to want me as him and I want to have him as him.” What the fuck?

“When they are outside the cage, they are touchable,”

Finn, of all fucking people, kept finding packs for him and giving them to me to give to Cadoc.

“I told you I was half of something, and you told me that you were the whole of nothing. You get to be whole, Chaos Chaser.”

“If we don’t come back by morning, come look for us to the west of the old utility road that runs along the sewers. Ask Finnegan.”

“Let me talk to Keiran.” “Keiran isn’t here.” “I know he’s here!” Dante yelled. Cadoc growled beside me. “You can’t keep holding him hostage, Arlo.” Arlo? Holy fucking shit! This was Arlo? And Arlo had Keiran. “You need to let him go.” “Let him go?” Arlo’s tone had taken on an even colder bite. “Let him go.”

All to be put back in his cage once the game was over, sitting in fear until the next game started and he was purchased again.”

He blocked it out by putting it somewhere else and creating a whole new array of protectors to deal with each little part of it.” Dante raised his head, looking at both of us in turn. “Ever heard of dissociative identity disorder?”

It was my first and last job as a cop because I just so happened to be the one to unlock Arlo’s cage and let him out. I set him free, and in his mind, I saved him. So he bonded with me.” Cages and hiding and being trapped in freedom. Familiar. Panic rose up my throat.

Cages feel familiar. I think I was in one once.

You don’t sleep? I must.

The war isn’t coming. The war...

I am half of something. Nothing whole. I spoke to you for two years; it’s not my fault you didn’t hear me.

I am chained to freedom. Not when you want to belong to something.

I see him but do not know him. I feel him but cannot touch him. I follow him but cannot catch him.

“This is the disorder. This is DID. This is how a traumatized boy coped with his life.”

I’m already dead, and dead things can’t die.

Keiran is…creative. He’s Arlo’s creative side, he has that dreamer’s attitude, he’s a riddle and a protector because he can rationalize pain and turn it into something else.”

Finn is the analytical side, the brains, the smart one who collects data and turns it into something useful, he also holds some of Arlo’s fears about cleanliness because of the state of his environment in that place. He was never meant to become sexual, which is why Arlo keeps forcing him to the back when he’s with you. It’s a sign of healing, and Arlo doesn’t want to heal. When healing happens, the alters morph and change to accommodate that healing. Like…they aren’t needed anymore, so they disappear or become less frequent.”

Please don’t disappear.

“You’re mine now. Shackled to me with no freedom.”

“I belong to nothing,” Keiran echoed; I was nothing—the whole of nothing. “And nothing lives inside me.”

How were we supposed to win when the enemy and the one I was trying to save were the same person?

But no one ever came to check on me because my wounds weren’t always bloody. My wounds weren’t visible.

Arlo looked like a demon come to life. With his usual black outfit and a plain black mask that covered the top half of his face,

“You telling me you love me, Kei?” My heart pattered out of control. “I’m telling you I’ll hunt you forever and howl at you for eternity.” So, love then. I smiled, happier than I’d been in…years. “You make the trip to insanity fun.” “I know, but you steer us there.”

“I dream of you when you’re not here. No, wait.” He put his hands over his eyes again. “When I’m not here. I go away sometimes.” “Where do you go?” “Not far.”

“I’m still Keiran. I’m the Keiran that you see. I’m painted the way you see me. I’m feeling the way you feel me. I’m allowed now. I just…levelled up.”

Mickey, who we’d finally met after months of never knowing who he was, crept ahead of her. He wore one of those masks with the neon X’s as eyes, but I wasn’t sure if that was a new thing or a familiar thing. Rosie never said much about him.

Mickey was an alter who had co-consciousness with Arlo, meaning he knew he was an alter ego, he always came on these missions to ensure Arlo got his way.

“This your way of telling me you have feelings for me, Finn?” “You know it is,” he said, trying to ignore my hands on his body and my lips on his neck. “Intense feelings. Feelings I didn’t think myself capable of feeling.” “The opposite of hate?” “Yes. The opposite of hate.”

“This is gross,” he whispered against my lips. “Then why are you hard?” “It’s so gross, I love it.” “Fuck, Finnegan. I can’t believe I’m getting fucked in the ass.” “So unsanitary.” “So fucking good.” “Yes,” he agreed. “Yes.”