"GET OUT OF MY HEAD!!!"
Fez yelled, the words ripping out of him so loud his throat burned.
He started slamming his head against the wall, over and over, each dull thud rattling his skull.
"Stop it, kid. It's uselessness."
The voice was almost bored.
Fez froze, forehead pressed to the cold plaster, breath shaking.
"…How…how did I think you were gone forever…"
A low chuckle coiled through his thoughts.
"A great villain like me will never disappear…"
"…your superheroes did."
Fez quietly sank down onto the edge of the bed, shoulders slumped.
"…Get out of my body."
For a moment, there was only a flicker of amusement in the back of his mind.
"What?"
He didn't lift his head.
"I said…"
His voice came out flat, almost a whisper.
"…get off."
"NO, I WON'T—you're mine now HAHAH."
"I'll get you out…with force, then…"
Fez ran, almost stumbling over the clutter on the floor, and grabbed the knife from the kitchen drawer.
The metal felt cold and heavier than he'd expected, the edge biting against his palm even before he moved.
"INTERESTING!" ZEF's voice flared, darkly delighted. "Do it then!"
Fez stood there, knuckles white around the handle, the blade trembling just inches from his chest.
For a moment, he couldn't feel anything but the cold steel—and then Milenda's face flickered across his thoughts, tired but alive.
His grip loosened.
"…No. I'm not going to do it."
Tch.
You did the wise choice, though. You were about to make the worst mistake ever.
Fez sank down onto the floor, the knife clattering uselessly beside him.
It was quiet for a few moments—so quiet he could hear his own heartbeat in his ears.
Then the voice returned, smoother now, almost curious:
So…what's in your mind, boy?
"YOU ARE ON MY MIND—literally!"
Fez's voice cracked, raw with frustration.
"Damn it…I can't even think by myself now…"
"Why did you enter my body in the first place?!"
Stupid. Didn't you see what you did to me?
Fez's fist bumped against his wrist, breath catching as the memory sharpened.
"Oh…yeah. You saw the wound…and you entered through it."
..........
Did your mother drop you on your head when you were a damn infant?
ZEF's voice didn't even waver. He sounded dead serious.
You're the only one who could hit me…and make me bleed.
"How…how could that happen?" Fez whispered, eyes locked on nothing.
I—I don't know. But…that girl…
ZEF's voice stumbled for the first time, a rough edge creeping in.
I know she has a hand in it—
"Oh YES—Milenda! I have to see her!"
Fez practically threw himself onto the bed, yanking the blanket over his head.
"Good night!!"
Wait—wait, boy—!
But Fez only started snoring, loud and ridiculously fake.
Outside, crickets chirped in the darkness, filling the silence with their steady chorus.
…What a stupid boy
The next morning, Fez was already running, breath ragged in his throat.
He clutched the little hairclip in his hand like it was the last piece of something real.
"I hope…the reporters aren't there…"
When he burst through the hospital entrance, the halls were quiet—no cameras, no shouting, just the low hum of machinery.
"Finally…"
He clenched his fist tighter around the hairclip, almost smiling—
But when he reached Room Ten, the bed was stripped clean. No sign of Milenda.
It's empty…
ZEF's voice slid into his skull, dry as old paper.
Just like your head.
"I WILL IGNORE THAT, MR. ULTIMATE VILLAIN."
He said it with his arms crossed tight over his chest, like that would keep everything inside where it belonged.
Fez's voice wobbled, cracking halfway through.
He stood there for a moment, staring at the empty bed, throat tightening until it almost cut off his breath.
The fact that I'm…containing a villain…
His thoughts stumbled over themselves, each word colder than the last.
…it's scaring me to the bones.
A voice broke the silence behind him—wary, a little confused.
"Ultimate villain? What are you doing there, boy?"
One of the hospital workers was standing in the doorway, brows drawn tight, watching him like he might snap in half at any second.
Fez didn't answer the worker. He just turned and walked out, quick steps echoing down the hall.
By the time he hit the street, his pulse was still hammering. He didn't even look back as he headed for the nearest supermarket.
He grabbed a drink from the cooler, cold condensation dripping down his wrist. For a second, he thought maybe he could pretend to be normal—just some kid buying something sweet.
Then a hand touched his back, light but hesitant.
"F-Fez…is that you?"