Disclaimer: I don't own Pyramid Head (wish I did :3), give credit to the creators of Silent Hill for that beast. ;) I do own Leigh, though. OC, created specifically to be one of the townspeople.
Anyway, warning: the following material contains yaoi/boy on boy/whatever other term you may have for it. It is quite graphic in nature, just giving you the heads up. Enjoy
Leigh cautiously stepped over the rubble, the worn-out soles of his aged sneakers gliding over the tips of protruding nails. He'd done so ever since seven years ago when he'd been playing in the streets of town and carelessly slammed his foot down on a rusty spike. The sharp iron had impaled his foot and he'd hobbled back to the church, wailing, with the nail still anchored in its bed of flesh. As a young boy his only concern had been the searing pain that clustered in his leg, but in retrospect he was lucky the siren hadn't begun to scream.
Now he treated every shattered piece of glass, every broken hunk of wood, every nail with the grace and heed of a cat. He was so silent in his motions that the townsfolk at the church required him to wear a small bell around his wrist to alert them of his presence. Especially around the elderly. Of course, whenever he ventured off of sacred grounds he never, ever wore the brass bell. On more than one occasion the boy had been forced to crouch among the piles of disregarded wood and trash when the shriek of the siren pierced the air and the exterior of the town blistered away to reveal the underlying horror. He had learned to hold his breath, catch his tongue… remain perfectly still. But on whim the wind would pick up and if that bell so happened to jingle, it would be the end of him.
Yet, after so many close calls in his seventeen years of existence it's quite a surprise that the only thing he watches out for is nails. He never quite pinpointed the reason why he would risk his life for curiosity's sake. Leigh would always bring something back to the others, something useful like discarded fabric or a weapon -- if he was really lucky, batteries-- to justify his excursions. Really though, he just wanted to probe the town. It was dangerous, yes; but, he had learned to handle himself well. It wasn't that he was an exceptional fighter, his triumphs were mainly restricted to the thin nurses that lurked in the dark corners of the hospital, their bodies lunging forward in sharp, jerking motions. He normally hit them with something repeatedly until their spasms ceased. Nearly everything else was of a calibre far too high for him, so he hid or ran. Ran fast, to be exact. He could outrun anything given a clear path.
The only thing that truly scared him was the giant figure that trailed his huge knife behind him. The sound of the tip of the metal dragging along the ground, pulling out a metallic whine, always caused Leigh to recede into the shadows. The encounters were rare, but even rare was too often. Which was ironic, considering that was one of the main reasons why he picked through the forgotten, decrepit ruins. He had three true motivations to scour the wreckage:
To find others, he thought to himself as he overturned a large wooden frame in an alleyway. Occasionally an outsider who looked just a little bit different from them would come into contact with his community.
To know if this is the extent of my world. He checked the corner of the alley, and when satisfied that it was clear, hopped onto the streets and began a quiet, leisurely walk up Crichton Street. He never voiced his disbelief with what the church taught, that would be a stupid, stupid move. He'd seen it once with a middle aged man when he was about twelve or so. Leigh couldn't remember what teaching he had refused to accept, but he had ended up on the church's doorstep, pounding on the doors when the siren came. The idea terrified him, so he never brought up the topic of an outside world, the idea that there was no God, and any other un-holy idea that may pop into his head. He just… found it so difficult to believe that he did just that -- he didn't believe it. Where else would the outsiders have come from? And lastly,
To get a good look at Pyramid Head, the boy with unkept black hair quoted the creature's nickname as he pushed it back, out of his blue eyes. He was thankful that his hair was black of all colours, not blonde or red, or some other vibrant beacon that stuck out when the lights went out.
He crouched behind a trash can when something seemed to fidget in the corner of his eye. No creatures swaggered through the fog, but if some of the men who scavenged the grounds caught him out here, he'd be put on strict surveillance. It was just a leaf, old and tattered, skidding along the pavement. He let his breath go after instinctually sucking it in, and went back to his previous thoughts. He had no clue why the tall, muscular body -- so human in its form-- with a pyramid-like metal prison placed upon his shoulders held such a fascination for him. His speculations lead to another concept the church considered blasphemy.
Leigh turned automatically on Koontz Street. He knew the town like it was etched on his back, unlike the others his age. The dark-haired boy had decided before he slipped out of the massive wooden doors to the church that he would go to the hospital today. It's not like he hadn't combed it over before, he just had the urge. Usually he'd explore the outer limits of town, try to find some road that didn't break off at a drop to oblivion.
He pushed on the doors with empty frames, the glass long broken to unlock them from the inside. Leigh gingerly stepped into the building, taking a quick observation of the abandoned lobby and the peeling wall paint. Nothing, baron. Just the way he liked it. Straining his eyes to see into the unlit hallway, he perceived no encounters as of yet. He stood, exposed, in the hall, wondering again why he was doing this. It didn't matter, he didn't want to go back and pray with the others. He didn't ever want to go back and pray with the others. Leigh'd often considered the chances of survival if he stayed in town, knowing well enough that they were not in his favour.
Pressing his body against a heavy, weighted door, he urged it open, stumbling into the branching wings of the hospital. Twisting the head of the small, red pocket flashlight, Leigh streamed a small beam of light into the passage to his left. As he walked by the rooms, he tried the door knobs of each. It was like musical chairs. When the darkness came, the creatures that dwelled in it would enter and exit, often leaving doors jammed or locked; and when the darkness receded, the doors often remained in that state. On the third room, the handle twisted swiftly and the rectangular piece of wood sung open like it had just been oiled. It left Leigh a little bit uneasy. He'd been in this room before, but the frame had never granted him access so easily. Rolling this over in his mind, he became very uneasy. Still, he entered, knowing nothing was there at that particular juncture in time. Hoping nothing was there.
A gurney with sheets that had taken on the colour of a child's shirt that had been dragged through the dirt was resting diagonally in the outer right hand corner. Other than that, the only other objects in the room were a drip stand with a broken base that caused it to lean against the wall and a steel cart littered with needles pushed carelessly into centre. Approaching the instruments warily, he brushed his finger tips against the cold metal. When he got used to the cool, detached feeling of the cart and began to relax a bit, the familiar scream roared in his head. His body tensed and for a second did not move at all as the room around him began to flake away to reveal dark, blood-stained walls. Red hand prints now decorated the corner near the gurney which had assumed near-black blossoms of blood. The cylindrical hollows of the needles held small amounts of congealed substance. The change was a feeling he'd never get used to, and this one in particular. He was intelligent enough to not crawl around the hospital too often, and to make his visits brief. The hospital acquired maze-like qualities in the dark. Luckily, he wasn't too far from his exit, or else he may have stayed in the room and waited.
Poking his head out of the door, Leigh risked a quick glance around the hall. No… anything. Not that he could see much, but he could hear. The building was absent of the clicking of the nurses' high heels, no groans that came from deep within their throats. Wait… Only one sound, in the distance. He could hear a faint scraping noise. Leigh's heart began to jackhammer, and his skin instantly moistened with a thin film of sweat. He rotated his flashlight so it turned off, not giving the device the chance to betray his location to anything wandering by. The slight aroma of his sweat always concerned him. He'd heard tales told by "darkness veterans" that the creatures can only see and/or hear you, if that. Stench had nothing to do with it. But considering the fact that they encountered a great deal of monsters while working up a sweat being as discrete as possible, he wasn't so entirely sure about that.
Bringing his eyes to the ground, Leigh noticed a thin line etched into it by the Great Knife. His stomach contorted when he realized that it started at his room, and carved itself towards the exit. By all means and all senses, he should have retreated into the room and positioned himself by the door with the mangled drip stand. Yet, he didn't. This is what he'd been waiting for; in fact, it was priority. Perhaps the knot in his stomach was anticipation instead of fear. He wanted to catch a good glimpse of Pyramid Head some time before he died, if his death came quickly afterwards then so be it. He'd noticed a steady decline in his self-preservation when he went on these "adventures" and automatically linked it to his home-life.
The boy stepped out onto the unsteady line and perked his ears for the noise. It had stopped, which meant one of two things: Pyramid Head had also stopped or Pyramid Head had gone out of earshot. It bothered him that he hadn't heard the screeching of the knife outside the door when the world first turned. Maybe he was too caught up in fright, but it still seemed unlikely. Regardless, he followed the trail. Leigh traced it with his feet, careful to not so much as scuff his foot on the ground. And…
It ended… he thought, bewildered. The imprint came to a halt a few feet before the door to the lobby's hall. He let out a short, rasping breath then caught himself. His hands flew to his mouth, hardly able to believe that he'd let that sound escape. Leigh's brain flew with a flurry of panic as he tried to piece together what was happening. Pyramid Head always dragged his knife behind him, there was no reason to stop. Not to mention, the mark was fresh, it hadn't been there for any length of time.
As his panic mounted, he resolved that he was not so death-driven as to die today, and he bolted for the door. Although his body slammed against it, it did not give way. He tried again, only succeeding in severely injuring his shoulder. The door was locked. Leigh quickly raked his head for an alternative route, and came up with one dismal answer: the back door. The belly of the hospital was notorious for hordes of nurses. Running from them was not a problem, it was running through them. Of course, that appeared to be the least of his worries. He rested, briefly in the utter silence, keeping his hands pressed longingly against the door while his shoulder throbbed.
A clatter.
A deafening clatter.
Paralyzing fear overtook him. He knew what loomed behind him, he could almost smell the breath. Leigh slowly craned his neck around to get his one good look at the well-muscled creature. His hands curled into fists against the door, bending one of his nails back as they scraped down the surface. The tip of the metal pyramid rested inches from the bridge of Leigh's nose. The pale seven foot body made no advancing movement, the Great Knife fallen to his side just beneath the hand that normally gripped it. Lost in a moment of confusion, Leigh immediately came to his senses and dashed to the right, hoping to swerve around the massive creature and head to the heart of the hospital. His sudden hurtle, however, was intercepted. Pyramid Head shot his arm out, crusted with blood, and wrapped it around Leigh's waist. With an effortless shove, the monster tossed him against the wall. His body impacted with a solid thud, his head snapping back to hit the cold surface. It didn't knock him unconscious, but it did disorientate him. Cradling the back of his head in his hand, Leigh looked up to what was before him. He found himself in a short moment of admiration of the monster, his startling stature. Ever since first seeing him before the church's steps as a child Leigh had considered him, in a twisted way, almost beautiful. He'd felt guilty for it then, but not anymore. That didn't stop the fear that pounded in his veins. The executioner leaned in, the blunt crook of his helm pressing against Leigh's face. With the same hand that thrust him against the wall, Pyramid Head grabbed a handful of Leigh's hair, lifting him off the wall he slumped against and tossing him face-first into the ground.
It didn't seem right. This wasn't how the creature killed.
A hand pressed the base of Leigh's neck, forcing his face to squish against the linoleum. The tip of the pyramid jabbed into his shoulder blade as he heard the jaunting movement of the executioner falling to his knees behind him. A sharp draw of breath was audible as long fingers slipped smoothly under the rim of Leigh's tattered pants then violently tugged at them. The sound of ripping fabric hit the air, and the remains of the jeans crumpled at Leigh's knees. Cold air pricked his flesh and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't discern how he felt at the moment. It's not that emotions were absent, it's that they were all there, screaming, competing, overwhelming the boy. He tried to lift his head to see what was happening, but as he strained his neck the creature only pushed down harder. His body writhed like a convulsing snake, only to have his motions stilled by Pyramid Head's hand painfully gripping his hip bone. Leigh closed his eyes, hot liquid pooling in them, running over his nose, and splashing onto the floor. A flutter of fabric, then a silent pause as the monster lifted his wrap crafted from the skins of victims. Leigh didn't try to look, because he wasn't sure he wanted to see. When the round tip briskly ran against his crack, Leigh's eyes shot open. He tried to squirm, fully aware of what was happening. Some men of the church had found back doors by which to have some "fun," so Leigh was well acquainted with what was going on at the moment. His state of shock had taken leave and the realization settled. Behind him, the executioner knelt, cupping the shaft of his cock with the hand not pinning the boy down. A small amount of thick grey liquid dripped from the massive head and splattered onto Leigh's body, sliding down to his entrance. Without the cooing words that men of the church used to calm the boy, to assure him it was alright, the creature forced the head against Leigh's hole. The boy yelped in pain and bit down on his lip, tasting the blood as it ran into his mouth. This encouraged the executioner, and he pressed it harder, the head slowly going in despite how hard he pushed. Leigh could feel cracks split open around the ring as the tip increased in width. Then it delved in suddenly, sliding in quickly after the head was accommodated. The feeling was a considerable relief compared to the initial plunge, but Leigh could still feel his entire passage burn as though someone had taken a match to it. The creature placed his hand on the boy's hip once more, to steady him as he prepared to pull out. The process was agonizing, it felt like Leigh's insides were being dragged out of his body, and they almost were. Another squirt of the grey opaque ooze filled the boy and when Pyramid Head slammed into him a second time, it was much less painful. Leigh breathed heavily, still crying, but silent now. Defeated, somewhat. Blood dripped from his entrance and collected on the ground, some streaming down his soft sack, then his hard dick where it dripped off the tip. The executioner released his grip on the boy's neck and instead placed his open palm on his back, forcing it to dip to the ground. Leigh could feel the head of his penis press against the dirty floor, rubbing against it as Pyramid Head thrusted in and out, cramming his cock all the way to the nook of his body. Despite what Leigh knew he should feel, he had to bite hard into his hand to keep the moans at bay. He longed for the abuse, and thrived on it. Leigh found himself tilting his ass higher to grant the creature better access, overwhelmed by the ecstasy of having the powerful monster violate him. He slid his arm down his body, trying to work around the limited movement that being pinned to the floor created and grabbed the pulsing shaft of his member. He could feel the veins popping out along the taut skin. The boy did not pump his hand, but instead maintained a firm grip on it while he let the powerful movements of the executioner's hips slide the dick up and down in the clenched fist. His legs felt weak and began to shake, almost collapsing as a white gob squished out of the small opening and plopped onto the ground. He moaned the entire time, rocking his body in rhythm with the creature's.
It was nothing like the church, not at all.
Although he was finished, Pyramid Head was not, and he continued to drive his hips into the boy, refusing to relent. As the executioner's movements began to change, grow faster and harder in nature, he lifted his hand off Leigh's back and gripped his hair, wrenching his head back. A deep sound resonated from within the helm as grey sloshed out of Leigh's hole and mingled with the blood on the ground. The creature pulled out slowly, a wet sound following the exit.
Leigh collapsed on the ground in his own blood and semen, unable to get up. He knew it was the end, he knew he should try to get away. He didn't want to. If that was the paramount of his life, perhaps it should be over. The metallic slice of the Great Knife jabbing into the floor caused Leigh to cringe and he anticipated the blade ripping into his body. It didn't happen. A minute must have passed, but for the life of the boy he could have sworn it was longer. He found the strength and motivation to prop himself up on his elbows and turn to see what was to become of him, a pathetic mess with red, white, and grey smeared from his stomach to his crotch. Pyramid Head towered before him, the knife firmly grasped, but resting at his side, his head tilted down to observe the boy who winced in pain as he tried desperately to get to his feet. The creature had no intention of helping him. Leigh stood up, staggering and leaning on the wall for support. He pulled his former-pants, current-rags up to his waist and held them there. Limping backwards, still in agony, he tried for the door that he knew to be locked. He backed against it and desperately cranked the door knob. It was futile, he knew it, but he felt obligated to try.
The creature tilted his head to the side as the world began to flip, darkness melting away and the fog billowing into the building. The executioner was gone, spirited away by the change. This time when Leigh turned the handle, the door swung open and he stumbled backwards into the lobby hallway. He hobbled out of the hospital, a red patch seeping onto the leg of his pants and dripping down his thigh, but subsiding nonetheless.
The ethereal light that filtered through the haze lit the town streets, but barely. Leigh slowly made his way down the steps, flinching with each sharp movement, his tear-stained face contorting. He didn't know where he was going or what he was doing, but he turned opposite to the church and started walking.