Alright, so I guess it’s time for a little exposition. I’m going to tell you about me. Exciting, isn’t it? My name is Rayne Everett. My mom thought she was being original when she named me, but really -- she was freakin’ high as a kite on pain killers. That’s evident by the fact that she spelled my name the girls way and -- yeah -- no one names their kid Rayne! I’m not going to even go into what my middle name(s) are because I don’t really deal well with public humiliation. The only person who knows (other than my mom) is my best friend, Quentin, and he’s under pain of death if he says a god damned word. No, seriously, I will hurt him. He thinks I’m joking when I threaten him, but I don’t make threats. I make promises.
All those crickets you hear? They’re chirping out of fear, I promise.
I guess I really don’t look like the kind of guy that would be able to hurt a fly, honest. I’m tall and lanky and blonde. I wear glasses mostly because I need them but also because I think they kind of make me look like a hipster-emo douche. Now, you gotta know that I’m NOT actually an emo-hipster douche, I just like the thought that I could look like one. Plus, it helps me gets emo chicks. And emo chicks are hot.
Oh, yeah, I’m also a half demon. It’s not a big deal or anything except for the fact that my mom totally boinked a demon but even that’s not unusual. Lots of people have boinked demons; it happens. They’re kind of everywhere. I don’t really think about it much because it doesn’t really change anything about my life. My mom doesn’t appear to be scared of me and I’ve never had my head spin three hundred and sixty degrees, exorcist-style (which actually would’ve been kind of cool).
So I guess my life is pretty normal. I go to school, I hang out with my friends and I dick around on my computer. I like it; it’s easy.
Yeah, so it was Monday and I was where I was every Monday after school; slumped in front of my computer with one hand on the mouse and the other dangling by my side. Normally I would have been playing Warcraft--
--or wasting time on Facebook, but not today. No, today I was too busy staring past all the Mafia and Farmville crap, looking at my own reflection with narrowed eyes. I don't know what it was, but I really didn't like the look of the guy staring back at me. He looked shifty, suspicious and all that. I was sure that if I took my eyes off him for one second he'd escape from the internet and I'd be boned. He'd possess me, assume my identity and go on a killing spree.
Yep, that's exactly what would happen if I took my eyes off the computer screen for even a fraction of a fraction of a second. I wasn't even blinking, that's how serious I was. Although I did find a second (still watching my reflection) to update everyone on what I was doing and to warn them in case Nega-Me got out. I changed my status message on Facebook because that was totally the proper thing to do in the middle of a life or death stare down to, um, the death.
Rayne Everett: is making sure his evil internet doppelganger doesn't escape. If you see me, and I'm acting weird then I'm probably NOT me. Proceed with extreme caution and use of tazers.
That was straightforward and to the point, I thought. If I WAS possessed by this dark, online version of myself then I would hope that my friends would be able to tell the difference, but I wouldn't put money on it. I guess that's because I'm kind of a bastard so I don't know how much worse this evil version of me could be. I mean, I guess he could go around blowing up puppies and throwing kittens at babies. Both of those would be pretty douchey but neither are out of the realm of possibility for me.
Actually, scratch that; I'd be more likely to throw puppies at old people. Or redheads. I don't like either.
My train of thought distracted me for a moment for a moment and my eyes, which had unfocused, snapped back to the screen to search desperately for evil-me. But I couldn't see him!
Damn it! Damn his wily genius! He'd seen his moment of escape and he'd taken it! That meant he could have been possessing me right that minute! I sat up straighter in my chair and started commanding myself to move my fingers. Literally.
"Finger! Move!" I barked hoarsely, staring at my pointer finger. It remained stubbornly still and I intensified my glare at it. "I said, move!"
It twitched a little bit. Barely a fraction of a centimeter. I wasn't sure that I actually saw it move or if I just imagined it. I probably just imagined it! Nega-Me was making it look like I saw it move to lull me into a false sense of security! He would SO do that, that evil bastard!
I had to rearrange my thoughts and get them in some kind of order because if I was totally unwound, then Nega-Me would have no problem forcing his way into my mind and turning me into the ultimate killing machine.
My finger was remaining stubbornly still as I went back to staring at it and I decided to try one more time. "Move," I said.
It jerked side to side about three times and I lofted my brow. If I could move my finger then that meant I could probably move other parts of my body, as well. I took a breath and lifted my hand and wavered it back and forth a few times, watching the way it see-sawed before dropping it back to the desk. So far, so good.
I pushed my chair back, that being a test in and of itself, then kicked my legs out like I was doing some kind of sit down version of a can-can dance. It still seemed like I was in control of my own body and so, with some trepidation, I eased up closer to my computer again, glancing into the monitor.
"What the hell was that?" A voice from behind me caused me to jump and turn around. My best friend, Quentin, was leaning in the doorway and staring at me. "Were you having a seizure of something?"
"Who said you could come in?"
"Your mom, when she answered the door."
"Oh," I frowned and spun the chair a few times. "Well, maybe I didn't wanna see your face today. You're uglying up my room."
"Shut up and tell me what the hell you were doing." Quentin walked in and threw himself down on my bed, kicking off a few magazines and a couple pairs of jeans. He kept staring at me with his eyebrows arched and I turned my back on him. The problem was, I could still feel him staring. I hunched my shoulders as if that would protect me. It didn't really work.
I spun again, hoping that when I looked at the bed he'd be gone, but he wasn't. He was still laying there with that stupid expression on his stupid face. And he'd be able to keep that face up for hours.
Taking a deep breath, hoping that I sounded completely sure of myself, I simply looked at him with a superior expression. "I was just trying to keep all my friends safe," I said haughtily.
Quentin looked unconvinced as he pulled himself up into a sitting position. "What the fuck are you talking about, Rayne?"
My jaw set tight and my fingers clenched and unclenched. It was slim to nil that Quentin was going to believe me; rather it was slim to nil and slim just left the building. But I soldiered on anyway. "Nega-Me was hanging around the internet," I said. "I saw him looking for a way to get out and so I was was keeping an eye on him to make sure he didn't escape. The problem is I took my eyes off the computer so I'm pretty sure that he got out. I was just making sure that he hadn't possessed me."
"Uuuh-huuuh," Quentin stared at me, I mean really stared. He stretched his neck forward and slid off the bed, peering into my face.
"Dude! Too close!" I pulled back from him, shrinking back against the chair. "Back off!"
"Are ... you okay?" Quentin asked slowly and screwed his mouth down in a concerned frown. "Or are you just being weird?"
"Being weird? What do you -- I was just trying to keep you guys safe from evil me and this is the thanks I get? Asked if I'm being weird? Fine, whatever. When my possessed body kills you, then you'll know whether or not I was being weird." I scowled and turned back to my monitor. A movement caught my attention and I quickly focused past the words again; focused on a familiar reflection staring at me from behind a pair of square-rimmed glasses. "Ooh, wait -- I think he's still in there so you might actually be safe this time."
"Are you just being weird?" Quentin asked again. "Or are you high?" He had picked up a guitar magazine but instead of reading it, he was staring at me over the edge. I swung around peered back at him, blinking slowly.
"What do you think? Do you think I'm high or do you think that I can sense an alternative dark dimension that lives within the technology that we use in our everyday life?"
Without missing a beat: "I think you're high."
"And you would be wrong. Do you honestly think I'm stupid enough to get high with my mom in the next friggin' room? She'd be in here wanting to share and then we'd have to listen to her creepy records from the sixties. Do YOU wanna listen to Jefferson Hot Air Balloon or whatever they're called?"
"So you're just being freak, then?"
"I prefer quirky. Imaginative." I made a lazy gesture. "Eccentric."
Quentin snorted. "Fucking weird."
"When I'm possessed by Nega-Me, you'll be the first to go."
"Terrified," he said indifferently and turned his attention back to the magazine.
I scowled and went back to Facebook to post a follow up message, just in case I'd concerned any of my friends.
Rayne Everett: has not been possessed by a techno-demonic force after all. Everyone can rest easy for today. But stay on alert because it's probly gonna happen one of these days...