The Muse

Drugs

"Aahh," I scream, sitting up. My hand flies to my back to soften the pain of the fall, but I felt nothing. My back feels fine, besides a few strands of grass that now stuck to my fingers. That's weird. I fell in an open grave. If not pain, there should at least be dirt on my back.

"You didn't hit the bottom. The grave was the portal to here." He cheerily gestures around, his figure still wrapped in that damned demonic outfit.

"What in the actual- "I jump to my feet.

"Uh, watch your language," he hesitatingly interrupts, raising his hands up to my mouth and stressfully glancing up to the sky. He's so weird.

"Don't tell me what to do." I push his hands away with my shaky ones. "Tell me what the hell is going on, where am I and how did we get here? Did you knock me out? Tell me right now or I swear to G-"

"You're at the Jefferson Park," he cuts me off.

"I know that park on the palm of my hand, and this is not it," I scream at him, pushing him back. Peeking around and seeing a few similarities made me take the confidence in my statement a notch down.

"Listen, the portal was-"

"The portal? Is that your code for drugs? Was I drugged? Did you d**g me?"

"Enough," he firmly scolds, stepping closer to grab my arm "with the word 'drugs'. At least don't yell it," he hisses. He glances at all the surrounding people, staring and eavesdropping. What the hell was he thinking bringing his abductee to a park full of people? Is he new to the job?

"If you don't step the f**k away from me, I swear to God," I threaten, gazing into his eyes, which as bright as they are, seem so empty.

"Listen," he walks back a few steps, "I'm trying to explain it to you. I realize it's hard, but you'll understand as soon as I-"

"No." I refuse to submit.

"Annabelle!" he hisses. Great, he has my full name. Maybe he'll have some pity and put it on my tombstone. On the other hand, I have no idea where I am, let alone know anything about him.

"I'll tell you everything about me if you just let me talk." A shadow falls on his face. Or maybe realization is dawning on me? Either way, I'm scared shitless.

Wait a minute, did I say that out-

"No, you didn't. I can hear your thoughts," he interrupts.

At this moment, the only reasonable thing to do seems it's laughter. Purely hysterical, mocking laughter. As my voice fills the surrounding air, and the pain in my ribs keeps getting tighter and tighter from the pressure, I stop to catch my breath.

"Phew," I say trying to carry the conversation on, but his words hit me again I can't help but fall into another fit of laughter. I try my best to regain my composure. And trust when I say it, my absolute best but it's nearly impossible.

"Listen, dude," I manage to start, "I don't know what it is," probably drugs, "but if you tell me where I am we can go our separate ways and we can both forget about all this." I put my hand on his shoulder in a friendly way. "I won't even try to press charges, I promise," I flash a reassuring smile.

"Okay, I'll tell you where we are" he grabs my hand off his shoulder and holds it between both his. "You're in the 90s," he tells, showing his pearly whites maniacally.

"Bruh," I groan, throwing my head back in frustration. "This stopped being funny long ago. Cut the crap, please."

"The portal is not 'drugs' or even a door to another location." he continues, keeping the manic smile scarily still. "You didn't teleport, you time travelled," he steps back and squeezes his hands in front of him, watching me and probably waiting for a reaction.

"Oh, that's exactly what I'm doing," he stated with raised eyebrows. He's acting like he just cut the bullshit, but the exact opposite is happening?

"What?"

"I'm waiting for a reaction."

My face crunches in confusion as it slowly sinks is that the situation may be a little more than just weird. I take a step back as the realization sneaks in. As much as I try to convince myself, his guesses are getting better than just lucky.

"Stop that."

"Coffee will do you good, I promise. I just need a little faith and 10 minutes of your time."

"I don't have time."

"Trust me, you have more than you realize," he replies, walking behind me to guide me. I twist my neck to give him a look of confusion, but the way his eyes widen makes me realize my expression holds more intensity than I thought. I get away from his grip and turn around to face him.

"Let's say I agree," I suggest, hinting I'm ready to negotiate, but he halts me before I get the chance to finish.

"Yes, thank G- " he stops mid-sentence as his lips freeze "-greatness. Thank greatness." He slowly slurs looking down, frowning, and walks behind me and starts pushing me again.

"If we do this, you will answer every single question I have and after that, you're paying for my ride home."

"Uh," he looks up, narrowing his eyes in hesitance, "sure lets stick with that. Before we sit down, I need a favour. And I know," he raises his voice when he sees my gaping mouth "that I'm in no place to ask for one but you're an actress, right? Act as if we're in the 90s. You don't need to say anything, just don't say anything a person from the 90s wouldn't."

"You're paying for my coffee too." It's the only sentence that I could squish through my clenched teeth that doesn't contain a threat or swear word.

"Yes, anything you want. As long as you let me make the order."