Grayson & AidenMature

Where am I? Aiden wondered with great curiosity. 

You should know.

Where?

The voice laughed.

Who are you?

You don't remember? I'm disappointed.

There was a flash of light that nearly blinded Aiden. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust and when he did, he glanced around. Nothing but blank whiteness. Nothing but him tied to a chair. "Where am I?" he asked. His echo carried for a moment, then disappeared completely.

The voice laughed again.

"Tell me where I am!" Aiden demanded.

"Technically, you're nowhere, but, then again, you're everywhere!" the voice replied, following with yet another laugh.

"That doesn't make any sense!"

"It doesn't have to. That's the beauty of fiction."

"What the hell do you mean? And who the hell are you?"

"You still don't know who I am? Pity."

"Tell me!"

"How does it feel to have never existed?"

"What?"

"Aiden Christopher Mailer, you do not exist, nor have you ever."

"That's a lie."

"Would I lie to you?" There was a pause. "My name is Grayson Emerse. I created you. You were my imaginary friend."

Aiden noticed something take form in front of him. "What..." he muttered. 

The form of Grayson was now completely visible. "Hello Aiden. I don't need you anymore." Grayson produced a knife from his pocket and advanced toward Aiden.

"What? Why? I'm your friend," Aiden told him, struggling to get loose.

"Like I said, I don't need you anymore." Grayson placed the blade on Aiden's neck and slowly started cutting the skin.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked, beginning to cry.

"I'm done getting in trouble for what you've done. Because of you, I'm in the damn nut house! So, you're done." And with that, he drove the knife into Aiden's throat.

From "Marathon Times," Marathon City, Ohio, pg. 5. April 7, 2012.

Bizarre Suicide at Arith Asylum

By Chico Shinaver

At six thirty yesterday morning, security guards at Arith Asylum were alarmed to find the body of Grayson Emerse in his room with his throat completely torn open. Security footage shows that Emerse had ripped out his neck with his own hands. "He wasn't on Suicide Watch," says Norman Blazey, owner of the asylum. "It was definitely a surprise."

The End.