Imagination Crossing, Chapter 6

Theresa swerved and blocked, one with the sword in her hands. Destructor was just as good with a sword, and he jabbed...only to have his jab parried by Theresa's sword. He sliced, only to have his slice met with a counterstroke by Theresa's sword. Theresa felt all her imaginary practice flowing through her veins, guiding her movements. Block, swerve, slice, upper hand cut, parry, dodge, underhand cut, slice, and so on, her movements swift and precise despite Destructor's constant murmurs, “You aren't good at fighting, Theresa. You stink at it. I actually already killed you, the moment you stepped out of your little purple bubble.”
Theresa ignored these comments. They were just him trying to imagine her into death. Theresa barely heard them anyway, so they were easy to ignore. To deflect, like Destructor's blade. Theresa felt sweat dripping down her face. The sweat got in her eyes, blurring her vision. She misstepped and fell down, swinging her sword wildly. Was this the end? Was she going to lose the fight just because she got sweaty? Theresa blinked rapidly, crawling backward away from Destructor until she could recover. When her eyes cleared, she saw a sword swinging toward her neck. She rolled over, but the sword caught a bit of her skin. She yelped in pain, putting a hand against her neck. She looked at her hand and saw blood. She turned her gaze to Destructor, who was grinning triumphantly. Fear coursed through her veins. Her deflections of his sword were sloppy, barely saving her life. She received many more wounds, and finally, Theresa tripped, dropping her sword just out of her reach. Destructor didn't allow her to get up but held the tip of his sword less than an inch from her neck. There came a gasp from the direction of the force-field, and Zander shouted, “No! Theresa!”
Theresa stared up at Destructor, with those angry, pitiless eyes. Fear clutched at her heart.
“I told you,” Destructor growled. “You are only an imagination. You will never be able to beat me, Theresa. I guess your sweater is pretty accurate.”
Theresa glanced at her sweater, now torn and ripped in some places. But the message was still the same: When Death Calls. Destructor readied his sword for the death blow, and Theresa closed her eyes, preparing herself for death. But just before Destructor could end Theresa's life, she heard metal on metal, and opened her eyes. Destructor's sword was across the clearing from them. And holding Theresa's sword was Zander, glaring defiantly at Destructor.
“Leave my sister alone,” Zander growled.
“Zander!” Theresa hissed. “You don't have any training with the sword!”
Zander was about to answer, but something unexpected happened. Destructor took a step back with a gasp, then put his head in his hands. His fingers gripped his mask and yanked it off. Tears were in the eyes of the boy underneath the mask.
“Zander,” he whispered. “I never thought I'd see you again. This...this may sound stupid, but am I imagining?”
“John?” Zander asked in amazement. “Is that really you, John?”
John nodded, the tears spilling down his face, and Zander dropped the sword. And then the two long-lost friends embraced.

“I missed you so much,” John sobbed.
“I missed you, too!” Zander declared. “I almost went insane. Theresa was the only thing giving my life any meaning. She's just like you, John! Her imagination...”
“I remembered our imaginary adventures together, Zander. After you left, I couldn't enjoy them anymore. When I imagined, I destroyed. The imaginary people begged for mercy, but I didn't listen. I killed them,” John explained guiltily.
“How is this happening, by the way?” John asked Zander.
Zander shrugged and replied, “I don't know. Ask Theresa.”
John turned to Theresa, who giggled and said, “It all started two days ago, when I imagined the Invisible Criminal...”
So, Theresa recounted her amazing—and terrifying—adventure as they made their way back to the castle. Theresa introduced John to the Enforcers and Rick and explained what was going on. John shook their hands, but then looked around in slight confusion and disappeared. Zander ran toward the spot where John had been.
“It's okay, Zander. He just stopped imagining, that's all,” Theresa explained. Zander understood. Theresa said goodbye to the Enforcers and Rick, and then she led the way out of the castle. She ran back to the platform, where she did three push-ups and appeared on her bed. She stood up on the floor and grinned to herself. She had some convincing to do, just as soon as the others got back.

The others got back not too long after Theresa did. She was sitting on the sofa in the living room, waiting for them. When mom and dad entered the room, she said, “Mom. Dad. Can we talk?”
Mom and dad frowned in confusion and sat next to her. Theresa began reciting the words she had practiced over and over to tell them, “Mom, dad, you want what's best for Zander, right?”
“Of course,” Mom said.
Theresa nodded and continued, “Well, I believe it would be best for both him and John if you adopted John. They're best friends, they can't enjoy a single dinner without each other! And besides, I'd finally have someone like me in the family—someone extremely imaginative that I can share my adventures with. Sure, I like to imagine with Zander, but he can't see what I see, or hear what I hear, or taste what I taste. John can. Imagining isn't something you should do alone, but together. That is why people imagine other people. So that they won’t be...lonely. And right now, both Zander and John are very lonely. They don't have any friends. The friendship they have together is stronger than any imaginary bond. So. Mom, dad. Can we please adopt John?”
Mom and dad glanced at each other, then dad said, “Of course, Theresa.”
“We would have said yes even if you hadn't given us a whole long list of reasons,” mom said with a grin. Theresa grinned from ear to ear and said, “Yeah, but I wanted to make a big point. I wanted to make sure you'd say yes.”
So, over the next few months, arrangements were made, paperwork filled out, and John moved to their house. When Zander was first told, he shouted for joy. Every dinner, both John and Zander ate the food in front of them right up, complemented mom, and excused themselves from the table. They didn't complain once, not a single jeering word, but ate with every dinner complement they could think of. “Excuse me” when they burped, things like that. Every. Single. Complement. Theresa liked the new Zander, and she liked John. He was nicer than Zander, and that was saying something, especially since he had been Destructor. Theresa felt like she had a full life. An exciting life. But that didn't stop her from imagining, for she knew now how important an imagination could be.