Entrapment-Four

Henry sighed, moving away from the door. 'Black… black…' He ran the word through his mind several times. There was something about it now. Something that bothered him. It had not been there before.

He suddenly appreciated the dreary gray of the apartment walls, much more than he had before. It was not because the gray seemed comforting to him, like when he first moved in two years ago; no, it was because the gray was not completely black, nor completely white. And it was not a vibrant red or yellow, or a cool blue or green. Gray could not affect his mood.

"What were you dreaming about?" asked Walter, without even the slightest hint of curiosity in his voice. That was strange, since if it was not something that was bothering him, why would he be asking?

"Huh?"

"While you were asleep, what were you dreaming about?"

For a moment Henry forgot about the person wearing the black raincoat. He forgot about the color altogether.

"Why do you want to know?"

"Curiosity."

"You don't sound curious."

It was then that the brunet realized that Walter may or may not have known about something… something probably important.

He folded his arms and leaned back against the door. "You're acting… different, too. Not with that calm superiority either…." he said, thinking. He was speaking to this man-this murderer-as if he had no qualms with him being there.

"How would you like me to act, Henry? I'm no longer superior to you, nor was I ever was. Can a superior being be slain by an inferior one?"

That was true. Maybe a little too true. He had killed him. Did that make him a killer as well? But it was in self-defense; Walter was the one who sealed him from the outside world; Walter was the one who killed all those people, not him; Walter was the one who attacked him and Eileen; Walter…

"…No…" mumbled Henry in response to the blond's question. "But… it was still there… the feeling…"

Walter stood from his place on the couch. "Well then, what were you dreaming?"

"Why do you keep asking me that?"

"I already gave you my answer: curiosity."

"Wrong. You're not curious, so if you're not, why do you have to know?"

Walter just stared at him. "…When I went to sleep, earlier, in your body, I tried searching for you, in order to return your body to you, but also to speak with you… The problem, however, was that I could not find you. I then supposed you were, well, lost."

"Lost?"

"Correct. You were lost within your mind, your memories."

Henry closed his eyes, thinking for a moment. "And if I'm… lost in my memories… how is that… uh, I don't know, important?"

"It's important because… if you submerge yourself too deeply in your memories… sometimes you can't get back."

Although Henry did not show his fear, his stomach tightened. "That girl…" he found himself saying, "I… think I remember now…"

Black. He shuddered. "I'm… going to the store…"

Walter cocked his head to the right, his expression bemused. "Why exactly?"

"To buy something… I don't know what…" he replied before reaching out over the kitchen counter to grab his car keys. His wallet was situated in his back jean pocket. He then turned and opened Room 302's front door, before he looked back to see Walter was gone.

"What the hell…?"

He faced forward again and nearly fell back, startled as Walter stood right in the hallway outside the apartment room. He had that eerie grin on his face again, not like just a minute ago, when he was as grave as a stone.

"Oh yeah…" muttered the brunet. "You're coming too…"

He sighed and continued outside, seeing Eileen as she herself left her own room. She flashed him a smile and wave, and he did the same… before noticing Walter standing beside him.

"Eileen," he called, a tad shaky. She turned around.

"Yeah?"

"Could I… talk to you about something?"

She gave him a confused look. "Um, sure, Henry, what's up?"

He looked back at Walter. "It's… Could we talk… somewhere a bit more private?"

Eileen glanced around, and then towards her apartment room. "Alright… come on in." As she walked back inside Henry looked back to Walter, who just stood there, as if he was waiting for Henry to follow her. The brunet man sighed and went into the room.

Walter did not go immediately, and looked to his left. There was Frank Sunderland, standing in the hallway. He was staring right at him, or, more accurately, right through him, but Walter could see the small amount of acknowledgement in the older man's eyes. He definitely saw something, but whether or not it was the blond was the question.

Frank squinted towards Room 302, and Walter turned to see the door open, revealing a person. Not a normal person, though. It was impossible to determine the age of the male, as he was wearing a raincoat. A black one at that.

Walter recognized him as the man-or boy- who had entered South Ashfield Heights before. But he knew this human had not ventured into Room 302, so if he did not, how could he walk out of it.

He was hooded, brown bangs obscured, but his smile was clear. Why was he smiling?

"That man's son," he said suddenly to Walter, "had something horrible done to him. How horrible, however, depends on the sin he committed." His smirk grew. "What happened to Bob paled in comparison."

The man chuckled and walked away, glancing into Room 303 before stopping near Frank. "…However, what will happen to him … that is something… truly horrible."

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Henry took a seat on the small sofa Eileen had in the living room area, and bowed his head. He was contemplating on how to explain to Eileen the events of the day; the sky was already a stunning display of reds and oranges.

Before he knew it she was beside him, her expression similar to that of a concerned mother. "Henry?"

He sighed. "It's weird, you know… Ever since I moved here, my life started going downhill. I lost that one job at the restaurant, two of my cameras broke… Things, usually bad ones, just happened to occur every now and then, but I never really got angry about them; it was like something was keeping me calm and happy throughout those two years…"

He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. "And that same thing stayed with me during that week I was stuck in my room… but… ever since he died, right in front of me… that certain thing's been gone. And if it's still there, it's having more of an opposite effect on me now."

The female brunette slowly rubbed his shoulder. "Henry…"

"You're the only one I can talk to about this type of stuff."

"What… What do you mean?"

"You're the only who'd understand, because, you see, unless I'm going crazy, he's back."

Eileen just looked at him, but the words sunk in quickly enough. She shook her head. "Henry, you're not making sense. I know you're under a lot of stress, but Walter… He's dead. He can't, he can't do anything anymore."

Walter was standing in the doorway now, his eyes locked on Henry. He was not smiling.

The brunet closed his eyes. "…No… I'm serious, Eileen. He isn't exactly back, but he's not dead either. He's… damn, how do I explain it…?"

There was a silence. Walter walked into the room, staring at a certain spot on the floor. "Right there…" he muttered, "Right there…"

"Look, Henry," spoke Eileen somewhat shakily. "You need to rest. This is hard, for both of us, but we have to get past it."

He remained quiet, watching Walter lean against the wall ahead of him. Henry sighed and stood. "…Maybe you're right..."

She smiled and nodded. "You just need some rest, okay, Henry?"

"Yeah… okay…"