[PUNCH CLOCK ANIMAL] ASHTRAY

[skinstealer]

The motel isn't more than ten minutes away, and doesn’t seem to be in that bad shape...not exactly exemplary of what god money could buy, but it works. Chelsea fumbles with the key to the room, finally unlocking it and stepping inside. Bucket follows along quickly, luggage in tow. 
 

BUCKET: Close it please, I'd like some privacy after our earlier encounter if it's alright.

 
 
 
Chelsea closes the door as quickly as she can, locking it tight. Bucket practically tosses the leftovers into the minifridge before flopping onto the bed, rolling over to face their partner. Chelsea settles in next to them, unsure what to say. Bucket just looks over, equally awkward, but extremely concerned. 
 

BUCKET: So...
CHELSEA: I'm sorry. 
CHELSEA: For all that, back there.
BUCKET: It's not your fault. Is he.... like that always?
CHELSEA: On a good day, yeah.
BUCKET: That's a good day?!
CHELSEA: He was testing you.
BUCKET: I take it things went poorly?
CHELSEA: Trust me, I did worse than you.
BUCKET: Tell me whatever you can.
CHELSEA: About what in particular?
BUCKET: Anything.
CHELSEA: Alright... 

 
She exhales, slow and raspy. 
 

 

CHELSEA: Matthias is Spit's head cultist, you know that part by now...he's not on the same level of terrible that she is, but he's pretty close, and wants to get worse and worse to "prove" himself to her, or something. 
CHELSEA: Loves picking on people, preying on them, and he especially has it out for me.
BUCKET: I've never seen you really snap like that at anyone before.
CHELSEA: ...yeah. I know.
BUCKET: ....Did I cross any lines during all that?
CHELSEA: No, god, you were fine- 
 
 

 
She takes another long exhale, clenching  and unclenching her fist. 
 

CHELSEA: It wasn't you.
BUCKET: Is your hand alright?
CHELSEA: Just a tic. 

 
She’s clearly lying through her teeth.
 

BUCKET: If it's sore I can fix it.
CHELSEA: I...don't know if touching me right now is a good idea.
BUCKET: Do you need space?
CHELSEA: I don't want space, all I want is to be near you right now, I just-
BUCKET: ...Would a hug be of help then?
CHELSEA: I don't know, I just....I...fuck.

  
 
She presses her face into her hand, unsure of what to do. 
 

CHELSEA: I didn't want you to have to deal with this.
BUCKET: I don't deal with you. 
BUCKET: Not ever.
CHELSEA: This is different.
BUCKET: What do you mean?
CHELSEA: It's...I was hoping it'd never come up.
BUCKET: You can tell me.
CHELSEA: Back there, it wasn't like me to get that worked up, right?
BUCKET: Right.
CHELSEA: So...what if it wasn't me?
BUCKET: Pardon?

 
Chelsea has no idea how to continue off from there.
 

BUCKET: How can you not be you?
CHELSEA: I don't know how it works, I don't- I'm not good at it either, with dealing with it...
BUCKET: Please try to explain as best you can.
CHELSEA: After Spit took me in as her demon, after the ritual...I started hearing things. Voices. 
CHELSEA: I tried to ignore them, but all they did was get louder, and I'd lose these huge stretches of time, only to find out someone else had done things- but not me.
BUCKET: A ghost?

 
She snickers a little, unable to stop herself. 
 

CHELSEA: Sorry, sorry- no, not a ghost.
BUCKET: Then what could it be?
CHELSEA: Some kind of, I don't know, one of the othe- 

 

 
She struggles to get the words out. 
 

CHELSEA: Fuck, sorry. 
CHELSEA: One of the others looked into it, when I- we, were at a library a long time ago...it's...something's wrong with me, I guess. 
CHELSEA: Something happened and it broke my head into pieces, or something.
BUCKET: ...Did you get hurt?
CHELSEA: I can't remember.
BUCKET: Did you hit yourself on something?
CHELSEA: No, not broken like that...
BUCKET: Inside?
CHELSEA: Yeah. It's all inside.
BUCKET: Will you... be okay?
CHELSEA: I don't know. 
CHELSEA: I didn't want this to ever- I didn't want you to find out.

 
Bucket frowns. 
 

BUCKET: What could possibly be so bad?
CHELSEA: You saw how one of them acted earlier!
BUCKET: Was that not you?
CHELSEA: I would never show my teeth like that, Bucket. 
CHELSEA: I know I have a bad habit of gritting them but- I'd never bare them to you. Not like that.
BUCKET: And you're... not haunted?
CHELSEA: I'm not haunted, or possessed.
BUCKET: But there's... someone else in your head? 
BUCKET: And that's what's broken?
CHELSEA: ...more than one someone else.
BUCKET: People?
CHELSEA: Yeah. A bunch.
BUCKET: How? How are they all in there?
CHELSEA: I don't know, it's just how it is...I don't get it either.
BUCKET: But they're all there?
CHELSEA: They're not always like, there, as in paying attention, but yeah.

  
She makes a face, clearly distressed. 
  

CHELSEA: The guy from earlier isn't too happy with me right now for telling you.
BUCKET: Why?
CHELSEA: He just... 
CHELSEA: I don't know how to describe it.
BUCKET: Try your best.