Shadow Doll

Shadow Doll
Written by Ruri-chan
Author’s Notes: I have a thing for Mumbling!Henry. I don’t know why, I just do. So I decided to write a fanfic on him. It’s really, really creepy. I don’t think I ended it too well, but that’s alright. At least it came out at all.

Henrnderndered up and down the hallways of South Ashfield Heights. He knew he was looking for something, but what that something was, he had forgotten. For a moment, he thought about how stupid it was to leave his apartment, or rather his apartment door. He couldn’t seem to enter the room, and didn’t understand the reasoning as to why. No key could be found, nor anyone who would be willing to help him. All he could do was stand in front of his door, hoping by some miracle that he could figure out a way to enter it.

Something was wrong, he knew that much. There was a feeling in his head as though, everything was different. ‘Course, the walls were … melting if that was anything. Creatures were roaming the halls, but none of them seemed to want to bother the man. He was glad; he had enough troubles as there was. Henry took it all in stride, merely going with the motions of what happhappening. Though, why, he couldn’t be sure.

A part of him told Henry that he should be frightened of all of this. Perhaps find a place to sit and hide. But, he had chosen to stay in front of his door, thinking of a way to enter it. Mumbling to himself, quite loudly than he usually would, as he did so. It was alright to do that though, he had convinced himself as he found no way to stop his mumbling. It continued just continued on until his own voice became a dull melody to his ears. There was no stopping it, and occasionally he would have the urge to sit down because his legs were tired of all the standing.

That’s what he had gone in search for! A chair to sit down on. But, leaving the safety of his door had disturbed that. His mind slowly forgot what he wanted as he continued his soft mumbling to himself. What he was saying made little sense to Henry, it strung together in a long sentence and he once more felt he should be afraid that he could no longer understand himself. But as before, there was no fear, just quiet acceptance. This is natural, his brain said as it tried to soothe Henry of the worries of reality. No need to be alarmed, you have just been overworked and a little tired. It will be alright, just find a place to sit. Sit and think about what you have to do. There’s no need to beghteghtened of this place…

The words were calming and allowed him to no longer be afraid—even if that voice was not his own. It sounded older than him with a bit of gruffness. But, it still couldn’t stop the soothing affect they had. Yes, all he had to do was find a place to sit and think about what was going on. That makes perfect sense, he thought to himself as he watched one of the “dogs” start feasting on another helpless victim. That’s alright; I don’t think I liked that person much anyway…

Henry was shocked at the lack of care he had for another person. Usually it was so easy for him to be empathetic to another’s needs. When he wasn’t feeling like being a hermit and interacted with the “outside world,” people almost seemed to be drawn to him. Someone, he couldn’t remember who, had told him that he had the personality of a person anyone can trust. He liked that, and had been flattered by the kind words. But now… things were so different…

His mind had wandered again, he knew. Henry felt like he was getting lost in a long corridor until he found himself going down a set of stairs. Continuing all the way down, he found himself in the lobby—so to speak—of the apartment building. Yes, he could find… could find… his chair here. His head was starting to hurt too. But that was probably because of the wounds on his face: a deep gash under his right eye that dripped down his face onto his neck where it stained his clothes; and a similar cut around his mouth so that he could only taste his blood each time his lips moved which by now was nonstop.

The mumbling had yet to cease even after finding his chair to sit down on. In fact, it almost seemed to speed up just a little bit in hysteria. Something was wrong, terrible wrong. He knew it, but he couldn’t figure out what it was. So many things were distorted in his mind, and he wondered if he would ever be able to sort it back into its proper place.

He knew his name, Henry Townshend, and he knew where he lived, Apartment 303, but past that he knew nothing. Should his mind try to focus on anything else, it would start making him forget important things. Things like, where he was going to begin with, and the geography of South Ashfield Heights. He had found himself lost in a hallway because he couldn’t remember which way the exit was. His mind would tell him one way but then change it to another. Thus, he ended up walking back and forth in one hallway until he felt like sitting down to cry… like a small child that got confused over a simple problem.

But now, now he could sit and think. Except there was nothing to think about, only his mumbling as he felt his body moved back and forth in the chair. He was rocking himself! Why was he doing that? For comfort? But from what…? It was confusing, but what was more confusing was that his body would not obey him anymore. Instead it increased the rocking just a bit before slowing down when it felt the wounds on his face were beginning to ache because of the fast movement.

“So, that’s where you got to…” A voice shattered his mental processing as he was having enough trouble as it was thinking one subject—trying to stop his body from rocking. Forgot the mumbling, that was a lost cause to stop, but at least he could…“You shouldn’t leave places you know…you’ll get lost…”

The mumbling had increased slightly, fluctuating in anxiety it seemed. His body was afraid of this man, but he was not. Why? Because he didn’t remember who the man was, but he was talking to Henry as though he knew him. If only he could formulate the words past the mumbling to have the other tell him what had happened. But he couldn’t, he could only stare ahead, not even at the person talking to him.

“It’s too late now anyway,” the man continued on, as Henry now tried to turn his head at least. If he couldn’t talk, if he couldn’t move his body, at least let him be able to look at the person talking to him. “The last two sacraments are ady ady moving towards us… they’re coming just as they should…You’re really the only problem…”

Henry’s body rose out of the chair, moving to run away. He was glad for it as he knew what those words meant. Even if he himself was crazy, he had yet to want to cause harm to other people, or allow himself to be killed. For a moment, he could rationalize. People would want to die if they were in his position, but he… he had yet not wished it. All he wanted was to be in his apartment and hide there, just until his mind and body were once more connected. It didn’t matter if he didn’t understand anything else; so long as he could control what he did now, he would be happy.

“And where is it you are going?” The man asked with just a hint of amusement. Henry turned back—there was some control there, but only just some. “Are you going to Mother? You’re like him…I’ll give you that.”

Henry would show confusion if he could, but all he could do was stare at the man, if he could even call that. His head was tilted back slightly as his neck turned it to the right. It was an odd position to stare at someone, but he was able to do it, somehow.

“But, you aren’t… He is the final Sacrament; you are just a creation made by … my world.”

Henry apparently showed that he didn’t understand. How could he be a creation of someone else’s world? And, he knew who he was. He was Henry Townshend, he wouldn’t allow anyone else say that he was not. His mumbling for one reason or another ceased as his necked straightened itself so that he could look directly at the man rather than in the usual odd—and quite painful—position it usually was in. Why? Why could he suddenly control what he could do?

“I see… it’s because he is here…” The man looked upwards, past the ceiling to some area. “Because you are close to the source… you’re able to be less of a doll…”

“…no…not…a….d…oll…” To talk, it was difficult for him as though he hadn’t in a long time. It took a lot of thought to get his words out, most of which came out slowly but the man caught his meaning.

“Oh?” Once more that amusement, Henry felt actual hatred for this man. “Do you really think you are Henry Townshend? …You do, don’t you?” A pause as he continued to stare before laughter escaped from his lips. It was harsh and cruel leaving Henry to feel exposed at some large joke placed upon him.

“…s…stop….”

“You sound more like Jasper than you do him, though.” The man continued on as though Henry had not spoken. “Bit slow on the intake, aren’t you? Alike and not alike at the same time… I wonder what he would do…should he see you… He might try to kill you, like all the other monsters here. But, you’re not showing any hostilities…perhaps… perhaps he would help you…” More laughter just as cruel as before. “It’s almost endearing… that he would try to save his shadow…”

“….sha…do…w….I….” He tried to deny all that the man was saying, hating him for putting such doubt into his mind. It wasn’t true, he wasn’t just some shadow. He couldn’t be. There were things he could remember now, things he couldn’t before. Eileen, he remembered her, and how he wanted to save her. And… Walter…he knew this man’s name now…why he didn’t before, didn’t matter. Temporary amnesia, it was possible!

“He’ll be coming here soon… I don’t want him to see you though.” Walter continued almost in a cheerful way. “I don’t think he’ll be too pleased when he finds out he had a little doppelganger, even if he tries to save you as well…”

“….Wa…Wal…ter….wro…ng…” He could shake his head, but only just. If only he could get into his apartment, everything would make sense then, he just knew it. Though why he felt this way, was unknown.

“So you remember my name now? Doesn’t matter.” A gun! Henry had not noticed the other holding a gun before. It had been raised and pointed directly in the center of his face. He wanted to run away, he wanted to hide from this man. But, he was unable to do anything but stare straight at Walter. Even after the sound of the gunshot, the clicking of the barrel as it released its shot. Even after his world slowly started to fill with red, all he could do was just watch it happen.

There was a dull noise as he could almost hear his body hit the ground. Yet, somehow, he was still alive, twitching just a little bit but alive. Perhaps he had a chance. Perhaps… but it was all a lie… his body was just moving as it usually did… against his will with the last bit of energy it had. His sight was filling with red as blackness started at the center of it all, filling everything else.

-~-
Henry helped Eileen down the stairs as they reached the lobby. Everything was so distorted. He had not thought that reality would look like this. Walter had done this; he had caused this nightmarish world to appear. The man, the man in the ceiling had wanted him to kill Walter, but…Henry wasn’t sure that he would be able to do it. Killing those monsters, it made sense because they were attacking him. But to kill another human being, even though that person was after him, it seemed wrong somehow.

Eileen was getting worst though, he had to do something. Allowing her to sit down for a few seconds would be the right thing. Patting her shoulder, she sat down in the chair as Henry continued to stare at the black wounds on her body. They pulsated in a way that they should not, but he tried to ignore it. She would be fine for a few seconds, even though she continued to ask where ‘Mommy’ and ‘Daddy’ were.

Looking to the side, he saw a body just a few feet away from them. Jumping back, he was surprised in seeing it, who wouldn’t be? Did Walter do this too? Kill an innocent attendant of the apartment building? He wouldn’t put it past the man, still… The body’s clothes, hair style…generally everything… resembled himself in disturbing ways.

“Your shadow,” Eileen spoke in a creepy childish way. It caused Henry to look back at her. Her eyes were just a bit dead, frighteningly so. “He wanted to be you.” He would ask what she meant in that, but knew that Eileen didn’t know. It was Walter talking through her after all. He wouldn’t listen to what Walter had to say, even in this matter.

Whoever that man was….it didn’t matter now. Henry hoped that the person was somewhere far away from this nightmare. It was all he could for the victims of Walter. He didn’t want to know that some of them would come back… like Cynthia…like the others. It was bad enough that they died so terribly to begin with. He could only wish that they stayed dead, and not wander anymore.

“Come on, Eileen,” Henry said, wanting to get away from the body as soon as possible. Seeing someone who looked so much like himself, dead, just… creeped him out far too much. More than anything else in this place could.

It was surprising; after all that he saw…that’s what got to him the most.