He grabbed the doorknob, twisted, and practically threw the door open.
Kevin jumped straight up off his futon, so swiftly and in a manner which reminded Dillon of a startled cartoon cat. The girl next to him squealed and recoiled her legs in towards herself, while reflexively chucking the game controller she'd been holding, straight at Dillon's head.
Kevin pulled off his over-the-ear gaming headphones. "What the hell, dude?" he asked, annoyed. "You trying to make Jenn piss?"
Dillon was embarrassed and taken aback a little. He paused . . . " Oh, uh, hey . . . .do you know where Mari went?"
He prayed for all of one second, for a logical, banal brand of answers, knowing it was useless.
"The hell do you mean? She was waiting for you." Jenn answered.
Dillon's head filled with panicked worry. However, trying to explain, let alone having them believe even half of a word seemed even more impossible than the reality he was sorting through in his head; worried half-dead.
They stared at him, waiting for some sort of explanation. Clearly, his face was speaking. No point in arousing their worry too, he thought, unsure of the form or actions it might take. They couldn't possibly help.
"Don't worry. Nothing. Sorry," he answered, pretty unconvincingly.
He slammed the door as he turned and hurried back into Mari's room. Looking around the disheveled bathroom, he tried to convince himself that there was a totally reasonable explanation, he just needed to calm down so he could realize it - if he could just piece it all together.
There was a glimmer of light by his feet, which caught his eye. Briefly, he reflected it must be the flicker of a dying candle. But, no. The candles were all out now, and most of them, wet. Then, he thought, the ambient moonlight from the window must be reflecting in the water on the floor. But, no. It was a moonless night and the historic district strictly only used a tasteful amount of streetlamps no brighter than oil-fueled antiques.
He marveled at it for an entrancing moment - lost. Then, his attention was caught with real affect. The light in the puddle was no reflection, he realized, with wonder and dread. He crouched down for a closer look. It was as if ultra high-pigment black ink had been spilled onto the tiles. This was not because of the darkness and shadows in the bathroom. No. This was much darker than lightless water. It was void; and, to his horror & disbelief, as he studied the small puddle of fathomless depths, he saw distant stars flickering in the blackness spilled upon the floor.
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