Title: Creep
Author: The Fallen Sky
Rating: T
Summary: There's a thin line between love and obsession.
A/N: I'm not gonna say much about the story other than it's set after the end of the game, but exactly when is open to interpretation. Also, there may be elements of the story that some of you might find disturbing. Sorry for being so vague, but I think not knowing too much beforehand adds something to the experience.
Feedback is welcome. Enjoy!
She's screaming.
Why is she screaming? He asks himself, totally befuddled.
She looks completely panicked, her eyes wide and shimmering with tears, her face contorted in anguish and despair.
He has no idea why she's so upset, and he knows he should be more concerned than he is about her welfare, but he feels impossibly calm and unperturbed.
She's still screaming, and it finally registers that she's screaming for help.
Why would she need help? He asks himself, genuinely confused by her actions and distress.
He blinks and looks at her more closely, and that's when he notices the blood.
It's everywhere. Staining her shirt and jeans. It's even on her hands.
Why is there so much blood? He asks himself, concern growing within him. Is it hers? Is she hurt?
He blinks again and looks her over, searching for a wound that could be the source of the blood, but he can't see any, and she doesn't seem like she's hurt, physically.
She's stopped screaming for help and instead seems to be talking to someone, almost pleading with them.
Who is she talking to? He asks himself, now more curious than concerned.
He blinks once more and looks at her hands, which are cradling something, a man's face.
Who is that? He asks himself. He looks familiar.
She's still talking to the man, her face mere inches away from his, her voice unsteady and pleading, tears streaking down her cheeks.
Whoever he is, he must be important to her. He thinks, still not sure exactly what's going on. I wonder if the blood is his. Maybe he's the one that's hurt.
His eyes focus on her face, the tears streaming from her eyes, the smudge of blood on her cheek, the lock of hair hanging loose on her forehead.
She's beautiful, he thinks, and he feels something stirring inside him, an ache in his chest, a longing.
He blinks, his eyes moving to her mouth, watching her lips move, forming words.
"Don't you die on me, old man." She says, her voice soft and watery. "I need you."
He continues watching her mouth as it moves towards the man's, watches as her lips touch his, watches as she kisses the man, tender, sweet and loving.
He blinks, mesmerized by the sight before him, at once fascinated and unsettled.
After a long, seemingly endless moment, she breaks the kiss, her lips now coated in a thin sheen of red, and presses her forehead gently against the man's, her eyes slipping shut.
She takes a deep, shuddering breath, stifling a sob before whispering, "I love you, Joel."
There's a sad resignation in her voice, a brokenness that cuts him, stabs at his heart, but there's a different kind of pain lying beneath the surface, a sense of betrayal, anger tinged with jealousy. It gnaws at him, fuels a deep-seated resentment, an anger that's simmering within him, constantly threatening to boil over into rage.
He blinks, his heart pounding in his chest, the sound thundering in his ears, his breathing uneven and labored. His muscles tense, his whole body coiled like a spring, his hand tightening around something hard and unyielding.
Suddenly, there's a voice, a familiar voice, filled with confusion, concern and urgency. Then there's people, lots of people. They tend to the wounded man, their movements swift and sure as they work to save his life.
He doesn't see them, though. He doesn't see anything but her, his eyes locked on her, watching every move, watching the play of emotion on her face, the lingering sadness and doubt, the relief, the hope.
His eyes fall to her lips, and he watches her speak, unable to hear the words, but it doesn't matter. All he sees is her lips...kissing Joel...coated with Joel's blood...whispering her love for Joel...
Rage roils within him until all he sees is red, until all he sees is Joel's blood.
There's a gentle hand on his shoulder and a face in front of his.
He blinks, the red slowly fading, his body relaxing, his vision becoming clear as he focuses on a very familiar face, eyes filled with concern, face clouded with worry, voice unsteady and demanding as she asks, "What the fuck happened here, Tommy?"
Her question barely registers, and it confuses him, because he doesn't know what happened, doesn't know what's happening now, other than Joel is being taken to Jackson's medical clinic, and Ellie looks like she's the one who's dying.
His eyes stay on Ellie as she follows the procession of people carrying Joel away. He wants to go to her, comfort her, wrap his arms around her, bury his face in her hair and tell her everything will be alright, but he remains rooted where he is, his body unable to move.
It isn't until he feels Maria's hand against his cheek that he turns his attention back to her, looking her in the eye.
He doesn't speak, unable to make sense of what's happened and his role in it. He just looks at her, eyes pleading, confusion and guilt practically oozing from him.
She doesn't speak, either, but she does pry something from his hand. He resists for a moment before relenting and letting her have whatever it is.
They remain silent and motionless for untold moments, staring into each other's eyes, both of them looking for answers.
Judging by her defeated sigh and crestfallen expression, she's either found those answers or has given up the search. The disappointment and hurt in her voice tells him it's probably the former.
"Why, Tommy?"
His brow furrows at the question, because he doesn't understand it.
Why, what? He wonders.
He almost gives voice to that thought, but holds his tongue, somehow feeling he would be better served by silence, at least until he has a firmer grasp of what's going on.
To that end, he feels a sudden and intense urge to look at the object Maria took from his hand, something inside him telling him the answer is there.
Slowly, and with a foreboding trepidation, he looks down at Maria's hand and sees something horrible, something that has his insides twisting into knots and makes him want to puke and crumple into a sobbing heap on the ground.
There, in her hand, is a knife, covered in Joel's blood.
He can feel his own blood draining from his face as his heart pounds wildly in his chest, his skin turning clammy as his whole body goes numb.
What have I done? He asks himself as dread, remorse and guilt overwhelm him.
His eyes remain fixed on the bloody blade, his body beginning to tremble, his breathing becoming shallow and uneven as images flash through his mind.
He sees Ellie looking at Joel with adoration, like he's the most amazing man she's ever met.
He sees Ellie smile the brightest, sweetest smile when Joel gives her a hand-carved horse figurine for her birthday.
He sees Ellie laughing hysterically at Joel, who has fallen in a huge mud puddle, and then hears her squealing as Joel pulls her into the puddle with him.
He sees Ellie in the water, practically clinging to Joel, her arms around his neck, her body pressed close to his, as he tries to teach her to swim.
He sees Ellie walking down the street next to Joel, his arm around her shoulders, her leaning against his side, looking happy and content.
He sees Ellie grab the front of Joel's shirt, pulling him down as she rises up on her toes, and press her lips to his in an enthusiastic kiss, which Joel returns.
He sees Ellie whisper something in Joel's ear before grabbing his hand and practically dragging him toward their house, then giggling like a school girl when Joel picks her up and throws her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, carrying her the rest of the way.
He hears Ellie moan and utter curses and words of encouragement, accompanied by the sound of Joel's grunts of exertion and the wet, slapping sound of flesh on flesh, eventually followed by a scream of ecstasy and softly murmured words of love.
He sees Joel standing in the stable, alone and with his back turned. He feels the weight of the knife in his hand along with a growing anger, resentment and hatred. He sees the knife plunging into Joel again and again, feels the sticky warmth of Joel's blood on his hand, hears Joel's cries of pain.
He sees Joel lying on the ground, blood soaking his shirt, his body trembling from shock, his eyes shut tight in agony. He feels a sense of satisfaction and relief as he stands over Joel, watching the life slowly drain from him.
He sees Ellie rush to Joel's side, dropping to her knees, her hands going to his wounds, trying to stop the bleeding, sees her look of panic and fear, hears it in her voice as she screams for help.
He sees Ellie kiss Joel and hears her confess her love for him.
He sees Ellie following after Joel as he's taken to the medical clinic, fear and anxiety evident on her face and in the way her arms are wrapped tightly around her body, her shoulders hunched and tears streaming down her cheeks.
The images stop, and he's left with one overriding, almost primal thought...
Mine. She should be mine.