Hi, everyone! This is a small excerpt/scene from my fan fiction, The Hell Within (its the Heavy Rain plot with a different killer this time around), where I've explored a possible back-story as to how Norman Jayden got his scar. It's explained later in the main plot, but I am not putting that up until I've tied up all the loose ends….I've never done fan fiction before and definitely not in the thriller genre (I haven't got much exposure to it), so slightly nervous.
This scene comes at a time when there's a lot happening around him, he's getting his withdrawals and dying to get to the privacy of his hotel room to have his Triptocaine. Hope it doesn't sound abrupt or anything since it's a scene from the middle…..do tell me what you think! I will appreciate it and feel encouraged to write the rest of the story! :D
Norman struggled to put one foot in front of the other. Man up, it's only a few more steps. He would later hope that the hotel staff found nothing odd about his behavior. As of now, he had to focus on unlocking the door to his room, a task his trembling hands were making an ordeal.
A faint clicking sound and the sudden movement of a door suggested to his darkening vision that he was inside his room. Norman kicked the door shut and dug into his pocket for the Triptocaine. It was only a brief moment that separated his urgent need for the drug and the instant gratification that pulsed through his veins once he satiated the need.
He wasn't sure whether he froze or if it was time itself when the vial slipped through his fingers, rolling down his trouser, till it fell near his foot with a clinking sound. Norman's desperation worsened with those headaches as he clumsily bent down to pick up the vial.
A sense of horror descended upon his much before his mind could fathom what had happened. The sound of glass crunching filled his ear and he lifted his foot to see the powdery mass of white and blue under it. The last of his strength left him as he sank to the ground.
How could you be so stupid? How could you "accidentally" crush your vial? Norman weakly tried crawling to the drawer by his bed-side, which had the rest of the Triptocaine, the agony overpowering him. He couldn't make it.
The comforting warmth of his hotel room suddenly faded away, replacing it with a cold, grey room with bunker beds. No, not again… please… A young boy, not more than 10, was straddling across his stomach. Grab his arms and legs, he said to the other boys. Norman helplessly struggled against their grip. They were too strong, far too strong. Lemme go, he screamed helplessly.
The boy clamped his hand firmly on his mouth. Not so tough anymore, are you, scumbag? The tip of the knife felt cold against his right cheek and he knew at once what was going to happen to him. He had fought wildly and fiercely, though in vain, as the pain became more unbearable, his cries ruthlessly stifled and the blood stained the pillow crimson.
When a strange white light flashed in the back of his head, Norman instinctively knew that it was his last moment conscious. As he got sucked deeper into that familiar black hole, his last fleeting thought was of relief and gratitude…
I hope I got the format right… not so savvy about all this! :) Thank you for reading! :) :)
