Level Eleven: Kenophobia

"You guys are so cute," Blake jumped to celebrate us, dragging out the 'so' much too long that for a quick minute I couldn't trace any sadness.

As I put my total awareness to the hand I was holding, I saw it all. Some people do fear love, and they have rightful reason to. It's scary at some moments, and at times, others are jealous of the realness that exists between two people, but if a person says that love never carried bliss and the magic of cloud nine, then they are a scenario of one of two things, or both: they're lying, or they've never been in love. It's the only case that it makes sense to say that something incredibly perfect has its imperfect bits, and truthfully, I think that's the beauty of it.

It makes it special. It makes it yours, and maybe not everyone is going to like it. What's important is that your hold each other closer and fight the world, and of course, treasure those who do support you for loving who you love; lifting you up while you chase the path of your journey, when they had no obligation to do so.

"Goodness, I'm so fricking thankful for this. It's the best smack in the face I've ever had! Usually those are sucky," Blake went on, in very evident admiration, but when that ecstatic outcry drained itself directly back into his skull, and he rested his chin on his hand with a more devious vibe, I knew something was up. Not a threat or anything like that, but a pushy-lesson. I felt it coming. "But you lowkey owe me an apology though, no? Or at least a 'wow, Blake, you were right' kind of thing."

Camdyn went perplexed, but I knew exactly what he was talking about. That didn't mean I was going to act like I did. "What?" I said, pretending Camdyn and I were on the same page that had no ink, and thus not a clue.

Blake saw right through it, or he used the act-tactic well, probably better than I did. "Don't act like you don't know, Ell," he said purposely eerily, but also jokingly. He paced around in the nearby area, for a few to let his remark get to me, but I chose not to say a thing. When his excitement couldn't be concealed, he threw out the mode, jumping up into the air for the second time. "I told you, you were in love, and meant to be so much that it couldn't be hidden. I told you that and you remember every detail."

"So what?"

"What do you mean 'so what'? What do you say to me, Ell?"

"You can't put up that 'what do you say to me' crap, Blake. I'm not five."

"That's true, you're not five," he said, understandingly, clasping his hands together. He clapped them once, and it prepared me, minorly, for him to go sarcastic, but far from completely. "So what do you fricking say to me, fricking ho?"

A grimace was formed by the energy of my entire being, and in a dead, dry voice, I replied. "Yes, I've been suppressing my feelings, while I was in love the entire time because I didn't want to admit it to anyone, even myself. You caught on. Congratulations?"

"Thank you, thank you." He answered, unaffected by the irony, which when coming from me, can be a lot if I want it to, and at a moment like this, I did. Still, he brushed it off like it were the nibbles of a fish clan. It didn't hurt him. It tickled him, and his bow really rubbed that in, but I had no clever comeback to respond with. The most I could do was clench my hands at my sides, so hard that they trembled. "See? It wasn't that hard, was it?"

Camdyn rested his head on my shoulder, his arms around me from the back. "Let him be. He's an attention-seeker. It's not a bonk on the head that he'd want attention," he laughed loudly, but talked in an undertone, pacifying me as if on the dot.

His laughter was quick to infect me. "What a prick he is, Cams." I whispered, a mini glance at Blake while I did, the grin up to my cheeks still a wide open window. "What a prick."

I wasn't lying, but I didn't say the full truth either. As much of a nuisance that Blake can be, he's the reason that I found that your head does really hold both angels and demons. You can make enemies, but at the same time, amazing friends. There's peace and calamity in one big bundle.

As irritating as this was, I knew this was the peace among the calamity. The good amongst the bad.

Who knew that peace can be irritating?

LEVEL ELEVEN

KENOPHOBIA HAS BEEN DETECTED

FEAR OF VOIDS WILL BEGIN SHORTLY

"I already don't like it here," I whined, searching the premises cautiously. It was another room without much decoration or — anything actually, to it. There was furniture this time around, but majority of it, if not all was run-down and old, like it was sitting down in a basement for years, untouched and forgotten about until this not near incredible occasion. "It reminds me of—."

Camdyn twitched in reminiscence, with an observable glance to his thigh. "Please Ell, let's not talk about what it reminds us of. No need to relive it. I don't want it revived, and I don't think it'd be good for you now that the level is up and running. We never know how things can turn on us."

"You're right. I wouldn't want to think about it again either. Forget I mentioned it," I agreed, exploring the area further.

When I reached the far wall, skimming it with wonder if it was paint or wallpaper, my body froze suddenly. Not out of shock, or terror. Not because of something I saw or something I heard. Purely out of an invisible force, that encircled my body like ice that wasn't cold. I couldn't take a step forward of a step back, and it came to me; the movement in the room had slowed to nearly zero if not entirely nothingness. "Am I safe to say that I'm not the only one stuck by nothing to hold me?"

"Sure are," Camdyn replied through clenched teeth. The enveloped voice was proof more than his words were. "What the heck is this?"

"What you're experiencing is what we called statue-scrutinizing. By the book, Still-Body Examination Connection, or S.B.E.C. I'm not affected because I'm not involved in what they're looking for." Blake spoke without hardship, and moved about without hardship as well. I've never realized how much I've took that for granted in my life, but I surely from this point. Being in this much discomfort and being able to do nothing about it is a chore in itself. Worse, he continued to walk and continued to talk like it was nothing. I can't say we didn't appreciate the information though. I'm sure I can speak for both of us.

"This level is intending to connect whatever parts of your brain that it needs to to express a specific point. I'm not sure what they're expressing or what part they're connecting, because that can differ. Usually levels like this want you to not only see the location or experience in their view, but they want you to feel it, exactly as the other person felt it when it happened. It's so the emotion isn't just a word anymore, but it's hands-on. I'm only allowed to enter these if something goes majorly wrong and I can only be your enemy."

I attempted talking. "So whose level is this? Mine or his? Whose memory are we entering?"

"Based on what I see," Blake tilted his head, studying both of us from about five feet, so hard that he couldn't finish his sentence in one go. "I'd say it's Camdyn's. He's more on edge. The connection isn't finalized, and there's probably not a literal memory in his head, but you know that feeling when you know something, yet it's not really in deep? Or when something's on the tip of your tongue? I'm sure they're doing that to him right now. It's like the memory is there, but it's at the same time, not quite." He turned to look at Camdyn as priority. "Do you feel that way?"

Cams tried to nod, but it's like boards were placed strategically on the bottom and the top of his head.

CONNECTING AMYGDALA BETWEEN

PLAYER ONE AND PLAYER TWO

AMYGDALA CONNECTED

EMOTION REGULATIONS CHAINED

CONNECTING PRE-FRONTAL CORTEX

LOADING...

PRE-FRONTAL CORTEX CONNECTED

INFORMATION RETAINER/PROCESSOR CHAINED

HIPPOCAMPUS CONNECTED

PROJECTION AND TRANSFERRING ABILITIES CHAINED

NEUROTRANSMITTERS CHAINED

S.B.E.C IS COMPLETE

It was one of those places that doesn't feel real, or when life feels altered. I've heard lots about it; how people consider the auras of the exit of a movie theatre, playgrounds at night, abandoned stores, rooftops at dawn, the early mornings with snow untouched; things along those lines.

Liminal spaces, they call it, I believe.

But this was that, to a much higher degree.

The pillars at the entrance of our school appear terrifyingly taller when the students aren't around, or when the area isn't cluttered with any people making noise and shouting random chit chat. The space is more open, free even, and there's this itch up my back that considers it a flaw on our part, like it's us that did something wrong to make it that way. The doors — oh, those doors that never once looked inviting to begin with, try pushing us away this time, telling us they don't want us back.

Yet here we were, trudging ahead anyway.

Inside was worse than the outside. The emptiness was enchanting and charming every step, but in this callous, steely type of way, however that works. My backpack over the shoulder seemed to draw it in too, making it heavier as I walked, and it made me aimless as I went, relying on prayers to get wherever I needed to be. I had no idea. Not really originally, and most definitely not anymore.

"Where is everyone?" Camdyn thought to himself, but as unbelievable as it sounds, I could feel the thought come out of me too, dangling in my mind like a loose necklace charm against another one.

Clanking, clanking, clanking.

We walked on, taking a right at the end of the hall to a classroom, just as empty as everywhere else. The chairs were perfectly pushed into their desks, and the chalkboard was clean of marks, utterly erased, as if no ones ever been here.

I didn't have an answer. If I did, he would've known it already, but with the confusion unsolvable, it became too much to handle or too powerful a fright. It must've been, and he took a fall, caving into the floor with a thick layer of dust. A memory was spinning inside his brain, as if it though relying on it would keep it alive, when the truth was it was killing him, slowly.

I could see everything. Every letter, every word, every sentence that made up his story. The tears that could cry an entire river without the tools to build a bridge to walk over. The problem, and the solution that seemed so far away, but that came for him, eventually. That should come for him now. Hopefully.

It was the summer of 2002, Akeno Himawari Batake, Japan. Camdyn was five, presented among a field of sunflowers that stretched to infinity and beyond, extremely distanced to what the human eye could see. Every out-stretched yellow blossom was taller than him without competition, each stem impeding his vision from the awe the others got in view. He was distraught about it, tired to miss out on what sounded so great.

Instead of picking the young child up onto their shoulders and allowing him to take in the scenery, his parents knelt down to him, giggling at the cutie, and promised him that soon, he's be tall enough to see it on his own, when he returned in the future. They thought that one day, because of that, the place would mean something to him. It could be special.

He didn't believe them. Impatience, naturally, wrapped that kid like a gift on Christmas, and it was too much of a concept to get his head around. He didn't like surprises. Not at all. Not then.

So he strayed from his parents, removing his hand from his dad's black dress pants or his mother's flowing plaid skirt, and he stumbled off on his own down along the maze of the sunflowers. He had the time of his life, every once in a while finding shorter flowers that looked up at him. They were shriveling up from the lack of sunlight, but he admired them. He thought they were beautiful, because Mommy and Daddy said that about the taller ones, and these weren't much different.

But where are Mommy and Daddy? That idea eventually came to him, and once it did, he didn't even let himself stand. He plopped to the dirt, staining his shorts instantly, and for the first time in his life hoped that his mom would yell at them for ruining them. He cried, loud from the top of his lungs, and hoped that his dad would get down on his knees to tell him that he was already a big boy and that he had nothing to cry about. That he was okay.

Nobody came. He sat there, getting dirtier and dirtier and crying louder and louder as he waited for them, but what happened is the void and the emptiness nested into his hollowing heart. He became frigid, and scared that his parents couldn't come for him. That he was left behind in the open field.

Nobody came for a while, that is, but they did come. They found him after hours of worry, probably as much or more than he was, and when his mother caught eye on him for one tick of the clock, she hugged him like it's been years, so tightly that she'd never let go, and easy as that, he was back to security and that save haven of his.

"Camdyn? Hey, Cams. It's all okay! What are you so afraid of? I promise you you'll be fine! Everything turned out fine then. You'll be fine now too!" I insisted, poking at his body still sprawled out in the dust. He stirred, whimpering lightly, but hesitated on awakening. He was coming to, I could see it, yet he almost seemed to fight it, like he didn't want to. "What is it that you're avoiding? Hey! Why?"

His eyes fluttered open, unwillingly, and he adjusted his position to lay flat as can be on his back, refusing to get up. "Did you ever get first-day jitters, girly?"

I could read his head before he said it aloud, but oddly, I preferred when he talked. I liked it better. On one hand, I guess it seemed I was forcing my way into his vulnerable side, while on the other hand, he handed it to me because he wanted to.

"Of course I did. Doesn't everyone?"

He sat up at last. "Now take that feeling and multiply it by a million. Probably more. That's under-doing it, and boom! That's my first day of school in the Philippines."

"Come on, Cams. Why? What caused that?"

"I got to school and there was no one in the building. I found out later on all the students and staff were having a ceremony in the back of the school, but I didn't know that then. I come inside, and there's nothing anywhere. It's empty. That sunflower memory strikes me suddenly. I barely remembered it on any other day, but on that day it comes, and it hit me, when I was facing a void, my mom was the one who came and got me out of it, but then — and the wound was brand new too — she passed. She wasn't around to embrace me in childish hugs and idiotic teasing. I'd have to get through that void on my own."

Camdyn breathed in, trying to put his words together. I could see it in his head, the scattered alphabet that didn't have any sense, and I waited, composure maintained for him to put it together the way he needed. "And in that void, I thought closing my eyes would make it better, but I could only imagine this man in the sky, eating up people on the earth like popcorn. When I opened my eyes again and nobody was around, it felt like confirmation. I was the last person, left behind. The last crumb at the bottom of the bowl."

I grabbed his hand, interlocking it in mine so he had to follow me when I planned on getting up. Slyly, I think I had the ability to turn this whole thing around. "But you know, that day, you weren't totally alone."

He beamed, a 360 degree change in his face, as he already knew what I meant. He did come after me, at a pace that I didn't have to force him, and together, we bolted out the doors toward the side of the building, near to the corner.

"We met right here," I pointed out, adjusting my feet as close as I could get to where I stood back then. "You left from the inside because you heard the mid-music they play in the ceremony and found out where we were—."

He intervened, laughing as he reflected. "And you left the ceremony to go inside. You had a bloody nose, and you always said it was because you study so much and because the sun was shining too hot on you that day. I guess that combination causes bloody noses, and because of it, I learned a lot about the school's blueprints."

"Hey! It's true! Do you not believe me? It was exam season, you entered our school late, during midterms, and the weather was excruciating! That's the worst kind of addition. It's no one plus one. That's for sure." I stomped my foot to the ground, in fake-anger to prove my point that didn't necessarily have to be proven.

"You're such a weirdo, Ell. Cute, but a weirdo."

"Yes, proudly," I answered simply, flipping my hair back, but each time he used the name I stood up and fought to get, I had this radiating fire in my chest, in a good way. "I have to ask, why do you call me Ell suddenly? You didn't used to."

He cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. "I was velcroing myself to the past, with what we had, instead of focusing on what I lost. I didn't want to let go of it, but now, I'm fully attached and committed to what I've got. Her name isn't Mars. Her name is Ell. She's the woman I've loved, love, and will love."

LEVEL ELEVEN UNABLE TO BE DEALT IN FULL

PLAYER ONE'S PROTECTIVE BARRIER

(HAPPINESS) IS TOO EXTREME

AUTOMATIC ACCELERATION

LIVES REMAINING: ONE

PREPPING LEVEL TWELVE