"Chapter 4"

"Chapter 4" was published on February 22nd 2021.

### Description

Chapter 4 is the fourth chapter. It once again follows Bunny as he continues to obsess over Biocide.

CW/TW: Swearing, mention of partial nudity, and mention of "rude gestures".

### Original

Here is the link to the original story, although it has been copy-and-pasted onto here for simplicity and nothing has been changed. Please note that in this chapter, there is the usage of various fonts which do not copy over to this website. For optimal story-telling (and for a major plot point to make sense) please read the story in it's original format, as it is linked here.

### The Story

*Date: February 2021*

*Time: Night, present*

*Place: The Mansion*

*...*

*Chapter 4*

*~~~*

The room was a disaster. Books and papers covered the floor all around and clothing sat in clumps. The desk was tipped over and laid on top of a bunch of other junk, and the bed was only half made with the blanket and pillows laying half off of the bed. I reeled in the sight of the room, but composed myself quickly and entered the room, closing the door behind me. I carefully stepped over the mess on the ground as I continued to take in the sights of the room. On the wall hung a ripped poster of what looked like something resembling a boy band, but it was difficult to make out exactly who or what it was. The closet door sat half open and I peered inside, seeing only a few articles of clothing within, but there were still a lot of pieces hung up in there. Beside the door sat a pair of flip flops, the ones Biocide used to wear before the snap. Pretty much the only thing that looked untouched was a small nightstand beside the bed, on which was a small purple egg-shaped jar that held suckers and lollipops. I took a green one and popped it in my mouth.

I rolled my sleeves up to my elbows like I used to wear them and dropped to my knees, shuffling through the mess on the ground. The paper just looked like basic school work and the clothing had no interest to me, and all the normal books were either romance novels or serial killer biographies. I brushed past them and picked up a small leather-bound notebook that looked quite beat up and worn. I sat down on Biocide’s bed and flipped open the book to the first page. It was a bunch of chicken scribbles and I couldn’t discern the majority of the words, so I flipped to the next page. The writing wasn’t much better, nor was the writing on the next few pages. I quickly scanned the entire book, but it was all written in the same illegible handwriting. I sighed and tossed the book onto the ground, and picked up a small sparkly purple notebook. I opened it to the first page and, thankfully, could read what was written.

*“The creator spoke to me today. They told me that I was special and that I could do great things. I told them that they were wrong and that I can’t do anything, and they laughed. They said that if I proved myself trustworthy enough, that they’d let me in on some secrets about this place and about everyone. I am curious, not going to lie, but what exactly do I have to do to prove myself trustworthy in their eyes?”*

It didn’t make much sense to me. Who’s the creator that Biocide keeps talking about? Did Biocide even write this, because this is a different handwriting than that of what was written in the notebook that Biocide carries around with her. I flipped the page and continued reading.

 *“I tried talking to the creator again today, but they told me that now’s not the time. They didn’t really seem busy with anything though, so it was quite strange. On another hand, they told me that I was improving on controlling her and soon enough I might be able to fully get rid of her, but they said that I shouldn’t. I wonder why, but I’m not one to question their judgement.”*

I looked up, questioning everything that I was reading. The creator is someone who Biocide has constant contact with, and the creator has been controlling Biocide? I stood up and closed the book, setting it on the bed beside me. I tried to pace around the room and think, but I stepped on something and heard it snap, so I just kinda sat back down. I rubbed my eyes and fell backwards, using a large stuffed animal as a pillow. I was just glad that I had asked Annie to go down to whichever swimming pool Biocide was at and distract her for a while so that I would have time to search her bedroom for anything that might help lead me or point me in the direction of learning more about the possible three other people who exist in our group. I started looking around for the notebook that Biocide had been carrying around with her, but I couldn’t find it anywhere. I sighed and pulled out my phone from my pocket to sneak a peek at the time, and yawned when I saw that it was 12:35 am. I sighed and stuck my phone back in my pocket, and continued digging around in the garbage on the floor. I picked up two of the notebooks off the ground and stared at them. They looked identical, but there was something about them that was nagging me. They were both gray with black lining and a blood red spine, but something was off about the one I was holding in my right hand and I just couldn’t tell what was driving me mad. I shrugged and was about to put the books down on the ground, but then I heard them. A chattering voice- unmistakingly Annie, and the clack of heels. It wasn’t Cyrus, that’s for sure, but there were only two other people who wore heels and I very much doubt that those footsteps belonged to Rose. I quickly hit the lights and dashed into the closet, pulling the door shut and burying myself within the clothes enough for me to be completely hidden, but enough that I could still see through the door. The bedroom door opened and someone hit the light, and I saw Biocide, of course. She had a white towel wrapped around her head but wore her regular clothing.

“Ah! Biocide- uh . . .” Annie said, barging into the room and pausing while she took in the sights of the room. “What happened here?”

“None of your concern, now leave.” Biocide said, pushing Annie out of the room with a yelp and shut the door behind her. Biocide locked the door and stretched. She dried her hair with the towel and dropped it on the ground, revealing her incredibly curly black hair. She stopped for a moment when she looked over at her bed and saw the notebook I’d left there as I silently cursed myself. Biocide walked over to it and picked up the notebook, flipped through it for damage, then tossed it to the floor with the rest of the books. She flopped down on her bed and took off her heeled sneakers and tossed them over by the door, then reached under her mattress and pulled out a familiar-looking notebook. She leaned back and sat criss-cross on her bed as she grabbed a pen and flipped the notebook open, and spent a few minutes writing in the book. When she was done, she tossed the pen onto the ground and set the notebook on the table beside her bed. She stood up and stretched, and faced the wall across from the bedroom door. She closed her eyes and stood there, still as a log, for the next few minutes. I thought she died for a moment or something until she screamed out loud and violently punched a hole in the wall. I jumped and had to cup a hand over my mouth so that I would make any noise. Biocide just stood there, panting, hand still in the hole. Very suddenly, Biocide violently twitched and then she stood up straight, but . . . she looked different. She looked . . . okay again? She had a wide smile on her face until she realized her hand was still in the hole that she’d punched into the wall, then she gasped and took a few steps backwards.

“Oh no, did *she* do this?” Biocide asked, examining the hole in the wall. She looked at her wrist and brushed off some of the flakes of dust and wall parts. She looked around the room until she picked up a rolled up poster of some characters that were poorly drawn and looked like they were from some webcomic or something like that, and she taped the poster up over the hole in the wall. She continued smiling as she placed her hands on her hips and nodded to herself. She spun in a little circle and then looked at the journal beside her bed like she didn’t remember that she’d put it there, and she picked it up and flopped down on her bed. She flipped open the journal and flipped to the page that she’d just written on not too long ago, and reread what she’d written. She puffed her cheeks and frowned as she set down her book. She sat on her bed for a few more minutes as she literally twiddled her thumbs and stared up at the ceiling before she sat up and walked towards the closet. I forgot that I was *in the goddamn closet* until she opened the door.

Her eyes darted to where I was standing, but I was hoping that she didn’t see me. I stood very still with my hand still over my mouth to quiet my breathing. Biocide flipped through her hung up clothing before grabbing an oversized tee-shirt and closing the closet door. She took the shirt off of the hanger, and then began undressing. I closed my eyes and held my breath. I know that I was hiding in her bedroom closet and have been watching her for a while now, but I have standards that go against watching women get changed. Rose would kill me if she found out I watched Biocide change. Anyways, I opened my eyes and quietly sighed due to the fact that Biocide had finished changing, and she carefully placed her clothing into a pink laundry basket that sat beside the closet. She continued to pick up clothing off of the ground and put it in the basket, but then she stopped and yawned. She slipped on her flip-flops and opened the door to her room and turned off the light. Just as I reached to push open the closet door, Biocide stopped in the doorway.

“Hey,” she said softly. I looked up at her through the door. “You can come out now Bunny. She won’t hurt you,” Biocide giggled before closing the door behind her. I, however, was frozen in the spot. I started to have a panic attack as I slumped down on the floor of the closet. I stopped trying to conceal my breathing as I began to breathe quite heavily. After a ~~few~~ minutes of panicking, I regained my composure and darted out of the room as fast as I could. I locked the door to my room as soon as I was in it, and I collapsed on the bed. I sighed in relief and remembered that I was holding two of Biocide’s notebooks, and I sat up. I tossed one of them to the side and sat cross-legged on my bed and flipped open to the middle of the book. My eyes scanned the pages, looking for anything that might be of any help, but to no avail. It was just a bunch of random bullshit that made no sense, but there was something that was very weird that kept nagging at me. It was the fact that all these entries, in all the notebooks, there have been two different styles of handwriting. One was larger and cuter, more curly and well spaced- but the other one was more slick and slanted, and just generally looked more formal. I wasn’t very good at analyzing text and handwriting to understand a person’s personality or anything like that, but I did know someone who was amazing at it -

~

“Yo, I need ya to do something for me sugar,” I said, slamming open the door and causing Corbin to screech in fear and fall off his chair. He swore at me and threw a few rude gestures at me as he climbed back up onto his chair and dusted himself off, but I was too busy laughing to notice or care.

“W-What do you want Bunny?” Corbin said, clearly annoyed. I closed the door to his bedroom behind me and took a few steps towards him, but he suddenly flushed up and attempted to get away from me, but tripped over the very chair he was sitting on and fell down, hitting his head on his bed. I stood there and sigh at his complete and utter idiocy. By this point in time, his face was bright red and he’d made a complete fool of himself, and I was reconsidering coming here for his help.

“Well, I mean, I did come here for your help but now I’m thinking that I probably shouldn’t have. You have worse coordination than Cyrus does right now, and that’s saying something.” Corbin sighed and pulled himself up onto his bed, looking disappointed and like he might cry. Corbin wore a fuschia dress shirt fully buttoned up and his usual dress pants and dress shoes, and his teal suit jacket with lime green trim was hanging on the footboard of his bed. It was weird to see him without his signature fedora, but it was also a nice change of pace, I guess. He stood up and straightened himself out, and stood in front of me. I always forget that he’s just that little bit taller than me and it’s weird. Granted, everyone except Annie is taller than me, but still.

“M-My help? Why do you ne-need my help?” Corbin asked, sitting cross-legged on his bed and wrapping his hands around his ankles and cocking his head to the side. I tossed the notebooks towards him and he failed to gracefully catch them.

“I need you to decode who wrote these and what they’re like. I feel like there’s something hiding behind them, but I ain’t good with that kind of decoding shit but you better be, right?” I folded my hands in front of my chest and watched Corbin open both the books as his eyes quickly scanned the pages and he silently nodded to himself. He stood up and sat down in front of his desk, turning on a light and bringing down one of those magnifying glasses on a stand from the top of his desk as he examined the writing in the book. He quickly flipped through the pages as trailed the words with his fingers. He grabbed a pen and quickly began jotting down small sentences and notes, but I couldn’t read his handwriting. Feeling awkward, I looked around his bedroom while I waited. In the left corner opposing the door where I was standing was his made-bed with two pillows and one thick blanket. Beside the bed and even closer to the door was his hardwood desk where he sat that held a few books and binders, but was relatively clean. In front of the footboard of his bed was a small bench draped with a mint colored decorative cloth, and on it sat a singular small white bunny stuffed animal. I felt weirded out.

In the far right corner sat a hardwood closet, and beside that was a matching dresser. A succulent plant sat on top of the dresser, but upon closer inspection I realized it was a fake plant. I felt ashamed by thinking that it was real, but then I noticed the watering can beside the plant and I had a feeling that Corbin didn’t know it was fake either. The blinds were drawn over the window, but opening them showed me the backyard. It . . . was covered in snow right now so it’s not like there was much to see. I closed the blinds and walked back over beside Corbin and leaned on his chair.

“So Mr. Detective, have you found anything?” I asked, looking down at his notes.

“Uh, well, I-I don’t know exactly w-what I was looking for b-but I do know this,” Corbin said, picking up his notes and showing them to me. I grabbed them and still could not read his writing. “Y-You asked me to figure out who wr-wrote these, and I can tell you that B-Biocide for sure wrote these. B-Both of these are her writing style, t-that’s for sure. Now, how’d you get your ha-hands on her journals?”

“Oh, I uh . . . I found them lying around and didn’t know who they belonged to.” I lied and smiled, and Corbin shrugged and turned back to the books.

“T-The interesting thing about all this writing, b-besides for the fact that s-she talks about all of us as i-if she hates us, is the constant contradictions in h-her writing and the things t-that she writes about.”

“Contradictions?” I asked.

“Y-Yeah. See here,” he said, pointing at a line of text. “Y-You can see right here that she v-very clearly trusts whoever this C-Creator person is, but i-in the next page you c-can see her dissing them, l-like she suddenly had a change o-of heart and now hates them.”

“So? What if she just like, I dunno, has a complex?” I shrugged and put down Corbin’s notes. He looked up at me and frowned.

“I-I somehow don’t think she h-has a complex,” Corbin said. “In all seriousness though, I-I think that she may be m-more than one person.”

“Excuse me?”

“I-I’m being serious. T-The only thing that would make a-all of these con-contradictions would be if she has, you know, m-more than one personality. It w-would also make her s-sudden change in both ap-appearance and personality as of the s-snap make a lot of sense, if y-you think about it.” I stopped and stared at him. I didn’t want to think about it, but Corbin did have a point.

“So what if she had multiple personalities? What’s so important about that?” I asked. Corbin stopped and looked up at me.

“I-I guess it doesn’t make that much of a difference, b-but this does explain a f-fair amount of things about her.”

“So you’re saying that she wrote all of these entries, but she doesn’t remember that she wrote all of them?” I asked.

“I-I never said that she had m-memory loss, but y-yeah. A-Amnesia is a p-possibility of something that sh-she might have.” Corbin stood up and turned off the light. He picked up one of the notebooks and leaned on his desk, thumbing through it. “I-It would also make sense that she h-has amnesia because there is so-sometimes a lack or a miscommunication i-it seems between her personalities.”

“And that means what exactly?” I asked. Corbin sighed.

“S-She doesn’t always remember things when s-she switches personalities. I bet that she was t-told to keep a journal to remember things e-even after she’s switched.”

“That . . . actually does make some sort of sense,” I sighed. Corbin smiled and closed the book, handing it back to me.

“I-I’ll keep studying this o-one, but you take that one and see if you c-can get any other journals for me, okay?” Corbin asked, picking up the other journal on the desk. I nodded and turned to leave, but paused and turned back.

“Hey Corbin?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks,” I said, smiling. Corbin gave me a precious smile and I left his room, closing the door behind me. I stared down at the book in my hands and just took in everything about it. The fact that Biocide maybe had multiple personalities would make sense, given everything and the way she acts. Then I remembered earlier while I was hiding in her room.

*“Oh no, did she do this?” Biocide asked.*

*“You can come out now Bunny. She won’t hurt you,” Biocide giggled.*

 I would bet you anything that she was referring to her other personality, the one who we all knew now, and the one who I watched punch the wall. She was so different from the Biocide that we’d all known and loved, the one who was always chipper and happy and full of energy. But then she and S.P. pretty much platonically broke up, and then Cyrin went insane, and then Biocide just . . . changed. It’s not like she was depressed or anything like that, but she obviously wasn’t okay. To think about it though, I thought I’d seen her like this a few times before in the past, but she always brushed it off like it was nothing and continued on. I guess it was kind of concerning, but then again, I never really cared. We rarely interacted, so I couldn’t say much about how much she changed because I wouldn’t know. I did, however, know someone who could give me some information about how much she’s changed. I didn’t like him much, or at all for that matter, and if he was with who I thought he’d be with, then it’d make this hella awkward. I sighed and left the hallway, making my way towards the spiral staircase and headed up towards his room. I reached the top of the stairs and stopped, staring at who was standing there.

“Oh. Hiya Cyrin. Uh, pleasure to see you?”