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There was a click as the spoon reentered the bowl. It was a gentle sound, but it filled the silent vacuum of the room like a clarion bell. Charlie watched the silver rise from the soup. He focused on the small chunks of potato as they were lifted into the air. He pushed his back further into the wall as the taters came level with the slack face of the man holding the spoon.
"But why would you leave Lavender Fields?" Nick asked. His voice was as placid as his face – no hint of emotion, no intonation; just a simple question.
Charlie stared in mounting horror as the spoon turned to slowly deposit the contents near Nick's face. The white goop smeared his chin and fell down his shirt. Empty brown eyes blinked once and the spoon dipped once more into the bowl. He hoisted a mouthful and hesitated just below his lips.
"But why would you leave Lavender Fields?" Came the question again, before the spoon tilted to drop steaming liquid across Nick's face. The slow blink repeated and once more the spoon dropped.
Charlie wished the wall behind him would give way so he could run. Every time he shifted toward the doorway, Nick's blank eyes would swing with him. He wasn't exactly staring, more vacantly focusing in Charlie's direction.
The spoon lifted.
Pause.
The question.
"But why would you leave Lavender Fields?"
The tilt of the spoon.
Blink.
Down.
Charlie reached out a hand slowly next to him and found the heavy metal replica of the Eiffel Tower, holding it out in front of himself defensively.
"Nick, I'm gonna go get help – I think you're having an episode…"
"But why would you leave Lavender Fields?"
Tilt. Blink. Spoon down again.
Charlie edged along the wall till he felt the door frame against his back. He let out half a relived sigh before Nick's head snapped towards him, features still placid and void, but something in the quick movement caught him off guard. He raised the replica with as much threat as he could muster.
Nick's head hinged back at the jaw, mouth gaping and tongue writhing. Charlie stared, now in true horror, as eight little legs sprouted from Nick's tongue. They wiggled and stretched inside his mouth before pushing at the thick root.
The flesh tore away in a spray of bright blood and the chunk of meat crawled from the open maw, skittering across Nick's face and down his body in tight spirals until it hit the floor and scurried off into the darkness.
Charlie dropped the tower and drew in a deep breath to scream.
He was interrupted by a gurgling sound coming from Nick's throat.
A fresh blood-soaked appendage had grown in place of the one before it. Nick rose slowly from the table, long legs unfurling beneath him in an infinite stream of jean-clad recursion.
"Don't go back to B. Hope, Charlie," came the vacant voice. Nick slowly rose from the table, long legs unfurling beneath him like twin serpents.
"Don't go back to B. Hope, Charlie."
Charlie sunk against the wall, all will to run drained.
All he could do through the fear was nod slowly in acquiescence.