Jerk

So she's lying there, in my arms. I could see her but not feel her, or smell her. I should have been able to. I could still see out of my eyes, so I should be able to use the other senses, but no. Those were closed off to me. I was trapped in here, behind these eyes, in a silent, empty world.

I knew she was soft though. I'd barely noticed it before, but I missed it now. Soft, and small. Well, smaller than me. Easy to fit in my arms. A little smile on her face while she slept, one hand resting on my chest. So peaceful.

It should have been so easy to move my arms like this, and my hands like this and squeeze and...

But I can't. I've been pushed to the side in my own damn body and it was her fault! She did this to me! I saw her! Watched her! Doing it to some other bloke! Not something any man wants to see. How his own wife betrayed him, yes, yes, that's right betrayed, because that's what this is, you see? A betrayal.

I know, now, why I'm not in control of my own body. Inside my head, my left hand moves up to feel the ridged scar behind my ear. In the real world, that hand barely twitches.

I'd been so excited the first time it happened, but now it was just frustrating. The twitch came more easily, but I'd never managed to do more than that, not even while it was asleep.

He would close his - my - eyes soon, and power down. This would give me a bit more control. Just a bit, mind. I'd hear her snoring - less delightful, now, than had been the first time I got my ears back - and smell the closeness of her.

My arms and legs though, nothing. Maybe I never would. Maybe I'd be stuck like this forever, until I die. That's depressing, but there's one thing that makes me feel a tiny bit better. I almost got my speech back today. Almost.

Just a little nudge really. That's all. He - or it or whatever - opened his mouth to say something and I did this little push so that he took the words from there instead of there. I don't think he even noticed. I don't think she did either. That was good.

I tried to do the something similar with my hand, and he did spot that. Could be dangerous, that. I retreated back into whatever corner of my own mind I'd been left with, and went back to watching it all unfold.

Her, resourceful in her lipstick and stockings. The little pink woman with the flaky skin and the frightened little mouth, like a rabbit in a straw wig. Gazing at the victim with huge, wet eyes. And me, or whatever Thing had hold of me, treated like a damned butler. Fetching and carrying. Cleaning.

She's still in that gorgeous dress. So tired, bless her, after a long evening of chopping up a man's scalp and stitching a bloody chip into it. Bitch.

My hand twitches.

I've got to get control of my body back, strangle my wife, find this other guy with a chip in his head, and see if we can help each other. Otherwise I might go mad.

+

Thank you for reading!

I hope this makes sense and is enjoyable as a stand alone story, but if you're confused, it starts here: Date Night

The last one is here: Vanilla, cont'd

The last one from this man's perspective is here: Watching