Chapter Text
When Thespius woke up, he was cold.
The breath that entered his lungs was stale, whistling through the gap in his teeth quietly as he stirred. He groaned softly, an ache shooting up his spine as he twisted his neck.
He must have fallen asleep outside again songwriting. He had never been able to resist the pull of the outdoors…the muse of nature a staple of his creative process. Waking up on the cold, hard ground was a downside however, the dew often seeping through the tweed of his suit and chilling him to the bone. More than once he had come down with a cold from his endeavors, and yet he couldn’t make himself stop, even at the request of his producer.
He lifted his arm up from its spot at his side to rub the crick out of his shoulder, only for the limb to be restrained in its movement, knocking against a wall to his side. He jolted, startled, and his forehead slammed into something hanging just over his head. He hissed, opening one of his eyes as he struggled to finagle his limbs to cradle his face.
What met him was pure darkness, a black quilt that lay still over his vision and blanketed his other senses. He attempted to pull his knees upwards, only for them both to knock into the same surface.
He felt around, his fingers finding purchase on five sides; One above and below, two to the sides, and one above his head. He kicked out his foot, the bottom of his shoe connecting with something solid as he confirmed yet another side he could not reach. Trying to sit up was an utter failure; and yet he couldn’t fully lay flat as he tried, his limbs drawn into a somewhat curled position.
His searching grew more and more frantic as he pushed and pulled in the small space, the breath not quite reaching his lungs. His gentle prodding turned into sporadic jolts and jerks, and then into panicked slams as he kicked and slapped at the sides of his prison.
Wherever he was…whatever this was…it wasn’t funny anymore. The prank had gone too far. He needed to get out. He needed to get out-
His fist went through the lid of this box he had somehow found himself in, and suddenly, there was soil pouring in around him. He shut his eyes tightly, a scream locked in his throat as he struggled to make the sound. He gurgled instead, the dirt falling into his nose and mouth.
The next few minutes was a blind rush of clawing and gasping, the soil never ending as he pulled himself through the ever-widening gap he’d made in his struggle. He had no idea if he was crawling up towards the sky or down towards hell. It was cold, colder than he had ever been, and yet he did not shiver from it.
His fingertips breached the earth, a breeze brushing against the tips. His chest heaved as he chased the feeling, desperation fueling him as he pulled the soft soil away. The moment his face rose above the surface he was gasping, the clean, fresh air that trickled into his lungs oddly not as refreshing as he thought it would be. No relief came, even as he dragged himself onto his hands and knees.
Crickets shrieked in the dead of the night, the leaves of trees rustling overhead. His eye opened once more, the other unresponsive as he looked up and around him.
…He didn’t recognize these trees, nor could he recall the clearing he had just unburied himself from. He staggered to his feet, a deep discomfort settling in his stomach as he struggled to gain balance.
The Hows and Whys were darting around in his head like minnows, his clumsy hands unable to grasp them. Thespius looked back down at the ground, another choking gurgle echoing from his throat as the sight of the mound of disturbed earth met his vision.
….he had to find someone. He had to get help…to wake up from this nightmare attempt on his life.
He tore his gaze from what very well could have been his grave, forcing his limbs into action as he picked a direction and ran, tripping over his skirt and the odd stiffness of his joints. The trees streaked past, branches and sticks catching on his clothes and striking his numb skin as he bolted through the forest. There was a dip beneath his feet and he tripped on a root, the action sending him rolling down a sharp decline in a tangle of limbs and fabric.
He tumbled for a solid minute, leaf litter and dirt kicked up from his fall, only to drop flat on his back on a smooth, hard surface. His head spun as he tried to climb back onto his feet, a headache beginning to form from the movement. He was sure that he was an absolute mess from his romp. The suit he was wearing was definitely to be tossed out, the tears in his skirt were practically fist-sized holes.
Still, he tried to dust himself off to the best of his ability. He knew from experience that leaves in your hair did not do well with PR, or the paparazzi.
Light glanced from the corner of his eye and he finally turned to look in front of him. He took a moment to absorb his surroundings, which with closer inspection seemed to be some sort of road that cut through the dense forest. He had tripped from a high up hill overlooking the drop, all the way down onto the pavement. From ahead gleamed two orbs of light that were quickly coming around the bend, growing brighter and brighter as they approached his spot in the road.
He immediately snapped to attention, raising his arms and waving as he tried to catch the driver’s attention. His ankle rolled precariously and he stumbled, but he kept them in the air, a call on the tip of his tongue.
….except no sound came out. The air left his lungs, up his throat and out of his mouth, his tongue moving to form the words, but the wheeze that came out was not his familiar vibrato.
He stalled, the empty feeling that it left him with distracting him from the incoming car. That was not what he had intended. Even as dry as his mouth was, he had actively tried to speak, the motions familiar but unyielding in their result.
Thespius raised a hand to his throat, expecting the same, unbroken skin as he’d always had, and yet as his fingers found their place, he could feel a chasm that had formed in the spot that connected his neck to his windpipe.
Air whistled in and out as his breathing once again quickened, his hands trembling as he explored the shape of the hole. He swallowed, the muscles contracting, and tried again, but to no result as his attempt did nothing but puff cold air over his palms.
Raw, painful confusion and fear ebbed at his mind like the tide with the moon. He could feel his chest tightening, suddenly very aware of the lack of a heartbeat.
…And very unaware of the headlights that had now completely covered his trembling form.
He barely had enough time to think before the screech of tires hit his ears, suddenly going from upright to flying through the air as the vehicle made impact with him. He hit the road once again with a sickening crunch, the back of his head smacking the ground with enough force to rattle his teeth. He skidded in the gravel, coming to a rolling stop. The headlights from the car spilled over him, catching over his hand even as Thespius’ vision began to darken once more. He could see the individual bones leading up to his fingers, which were lucky enough to be still covered in skin, like a reverse glove.
What he imagined was a tear dropped from his one working eye. Footsteps rapidly approached, and he closed it, hoping that when it once again opened he would wake from this horrible nightmare.
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Toby Cadieux hated his job.
Don’t get him wrong…he loved parts of it; He could spend hours getting lost in editing a good script, carried away by the promise of the story being told that hundreds if not millions of people would see…
…But he hated his Job. The company he had been working under for a solid twelve years had laid off a handful of the writing department, leaving them short staffed. This had resulted in a sudden restructuring of delegated tasks to the remaining workers.
…namely, himself.
Now, Toby was no free writer; he excelled in polishing what was already there, snipping and clipping and interjecting where it was needed (to other’s chagrin, at times). Sure, he was prone to dabble in prose, private notebooks scribbled in at his side during lunches and before bed, but the Stories he wanted to tell required a confidence that he didn’t have the time to nurture. He certainly did not appreciate the responsibility being thrusted upon him suddenly, without warning, and a few weeks before a looming deadline.
It was utter bullshit, not to mince words. He said as much as he clutched the steering wheel of his car, fuming at his phone.
“ He had the nerve to tell me to hurry up, Cobi. ME, to hurry up!!! Out of all of the years I’ve worked with this company, I’ve never once missed a deadline. I’ve gone through hundreds of our best scripts, and this is how he repays me? I swear, he wouldn’t know a good story if it smacked him on the side of the head!” He scowled, resisting the urge to slam his forehead against the horn.
“So why didn’t you tell him where to shove his grapes? He can’t read your mind, Click.” His roommate replied from over the speaker. Vaguely, he could hear the clatter of pots and pans in the background.
"If I were you, I’d just quit. You have the resume you need to work anywhere you want, so why don’t you?”
He sighed, slouching in his seat. “ I…I don’t know, Cobi. I just…I don’t know if I should…okay? The company needs someone…even If i’m upset about it…it’s not their fault-”
” It Is their fault, you goof. You just said yourself that you were fed up! The answer is right in front of you!” Cobigail raised her voice over the sound of a dropped pan and Toby winced, resisting the urge to cover his ears.
“It’s not that simple, you know that!”
”It IS that simple, and you’re just being a twig in the mud.”
“ Is not!”
“ Is too!”
“Is not! I’ll talk to you when I get home. Look…there’s...interference.” He looked away from the road to lean down and press the ‘end call’ button.
“ You liar, We both know damn well that there’s service on that road. Don’t you dare hang up on m- ”
He breathed a sigh of relief as he tapped the button. He knew that there was going to be hell to pay for his actions, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He just needed a few moments of silence to himself to destress from the day.
He dragged his hand down his face, turning back to the road as he did so. He’d had the route committed to muscle memory in the years he’d been driving it, so he needed not to worry about swerving.
…He, however, did not account for the man standing in the middle of the road, holding his throat as Toby’s car barrelled toward him at roughly 40 miles per hour.
In a flash he was slamming on his brakes as hard as he could muster, his poor tires screeching with the effort. There was a loud ‘THUD!’ as the car and man collided, his forehead cracking Toby’s windshield before soaring backwards and tumbling onto the side of the road. The editor gripped the wheel so tightly that his knuckles were white, his eyes locked onto the form now motionless in front of his vehicle.
…holy shit.
He grabbed his phone, trying and failing to unlock his car door before practically kicking it open. His dress shoes slipped on the loose rock as he ran to the man’s side, a hand already outstretched to touch his shoulder.
He looked rough, his clothes torn and ripped from what he assumed was the impact. His hand was outstretched nearby, grasping towards the edge of the pool of light his car’s headlight cast on the road.
He could tell just from the shape that he had lost skin there. He gagged.
“S-sir?? Sir, can you hear me?? I am so, so sorry, H-hold on-”
He tapped the shoulder of the man’s tweed jacket, expecting a response, and felt the blood from his entire body pooling into his legs when nothing happened. Reaching over, he gently brushed aside his hair, attempting to find a pulse on his neck.
…nothing.
Toby gulped.
His hands shook as he stood, staggering away from the body. Oh shit indeed.
He…he needed to call someone. He just killed a man driving his car. Oh, oh no-
He held up his phone, barely able to type in the numbers.
It rang twice. The phone picked up.
“ - So you came crawling back to me, huh? Ready to admit I was right?”
“ Cobigail.” He replied, his voice shaking. She continued.
“ Don’t “Cobigail” me, Toby. I know you, okay? You let people walk all over you, and then you get upset! I’m just trying to stick up for you, you know that, right?”
His eyes had not left the body since he stood. He felt like he was going to faint.
” You’re a good person, buddy. I hate to see you hurt. You deserve so much better, and you don’t even see it! I swear, if I were there, I'd give them what for, you’d see. You’re a once in a lifetime talent, you know! You’re made to go places, not to be bossed around by some ass in a suit.”
He tried again. “ Cobigail.”
“ I know, I know. I’m getting ahead of myself. But seriously Clack, you gotta fight for yourself!! Nobody else is going to do it for you…well, I would, but I’m not there, and after last time I think security knows my license plate-”
“ COBIGAIL!!” He shouted, holding the phone to his mouth.
“ Eesh!! You don’t have to yell!! What??”
He gripped onto his hair, tugging painfully at his scalp. “ I killed someone.”
“ ……what?”
Her voice was incredulous, as though she suspected a prank. Being the queen of such matters, often he was the intended victim, but rarely had he ever tried to retaliate.
“ …that’s kinda’ a weak one, Click.”
“ I’m not joking,” He choked. His throat felt tight. “ T-there was this guy…I wasn’t paying attention, and suddenly this guy was there, and I hit my brakes but I was going too fast and I hit him and I tried to see if he was alive but he’s not breathing Cobigail-”
“ Okay- Okay Toby. I need you to take a deep breath for me, can you do that?” All play had been erased from her tone. He could hear her closing the door behind herself, the jingling of her keys in her hand.
“ Are you sure he’s not breathing?”
“ P-pretty sure. I t-...I touched his neck a-and….I didn’t feel anything either.”
There was a curse from the other end of the line. Rarely did the schoolteacher repeat such profanities, lest she get in the habit and pass them to her students.
“ I’m on my way. Don’t Move and don’t touch him further.”
Toby didn’t think he could do either of those things even if he tried. He stood, still frozen in his spot from where he first called her, staring at the body he’d thrown halfway across the road.
It didn’t take long for his roommate’s old pickup truck to come barreling down the road, stopping short a few feet away. Its headlights turned off and the tall woman stepped out, an apron still tied around her waist.
She hissed through her teeth as she moved to Toby’s side, her gaze only briefly falling on the body in the road before she was taking his hands and looking him over.
“ Are you hurt?” She asked, gently grasping each side of his head and looking into his eyes, searching for something.
“ N-...no..I don’t think so…b-but he definitely is.”
They both turned to look at the corpse. Cobigail let out a low whistle, before walking over to crouch down near his outstretched hand.
“ Looks like you really nailed him good. If this was a ‘possum we’d be eating good tonight…”
He turned a suspicious shade of green. “ ..a-an Opossum…?”
“ That’s right, but as it stands, eating people is still illegal. A shame, really.” She turned to wink at him before pulling a pair of leather gloves from her pocket. She pulled them on, snapping them at the wrist, before pulling at the man’s shoulder, turning him over.
“ Grab his ankles.”
Toby spluttered. ”What?! Are you insane??”
“ No, I was tested. Hurry up!! He’s…well, he’s actually not all that heavy, but he’s long. Get over here!”
She dug into her apron, tossing something at his feet. He bent down to inspect the object, recognition dawning on his face.
“ …Are these our oven mitts?”
“ I didn’t have another pair of gloves!”
He slid them on as fast as he could and shuffled to the other end of the body. He recoiled as his hands wrapped around the corpse’s feet, noting the crooked angle at which one of his ankles rolled.
On the count of three, they both lifted him up, and one awkward crab-walk later the body was laying open-faced in Cobigail’s truck bed. She pulled off her gloves, tossing them in after him, and held out her hand to collect Toby’s. He placed them in her palm. She tucked them back into her apron, before untying it and throwing it in as well.
“ …We’re both taking off of work tomorrow.” She began, pulling up the tailgate to her truck and closing it with a shove of her shoulder. “ You go sit in the passenger seat. We’re going to leave your car here for tonight, and we’ll come get it in the morning.”
He didn’t have the energy to argue with her, numbly dragging himself to the door and pulling himself inside with a minute amount of difficulty. Clicking his seat belt into place, he tried not to think of the dead body sitting just a foot or two behind his head.
A few minutes later and Cobigail was climbing into the driver’s seat. She sent him a sideways glance as she started the ignition, the rumbling of the truck the only sound between them for a long moment.
“ …When we get home, I’m checking you properly for a concussion.”
He didn’t respond, burying his face in his hands. She reached over to pat his shoulder, releasing a sigh of her own as she turned the steering wheel. The truck pulled away from the side of the road, gently bumping along as they drove the rest of the way home.
Neither of them spoke a single word.