I don't want to die. I don't want to die. I don't want to die. I don't want to die. I don't want to die.
The hum and gentle crackling of the hall's fluorescent light panels could be heard as they occasionally flickered. They illuminated its state of disarray and chaos; papers and forms were scattered throughout the floor; desks sat piled up against various doors and vents; windows to classrooms were shattered or smeared with blood.
Dean could feel the throat in his grasp begin to give way as he tried to crush it in frenzy. The young girl underneath him frantically writhed and kicked in hopes of shaking him off. Her shoes slid on loose papers and occasionally kicked them up into the air. Out of desperation, his victim attempted to claw his face and gouge his eyes with her hands. All of this proved to be pointless as Dean only tightened his grip and pushed even harder.
His dead-blue eyes stared down into the girl's while she weakly slapped and pushed his face. The strobe effect provided by the fluorescent lights would quickly showcase her terrified face for Dean. He could tell she wanted to scream out in hopes that someone would come to rescue them. But even if he were to let go and stand up, the most she could do is let out a pathetic wheeze or a whimper.
The man's eyes grew wide and the malicious grin he wore faded as he finally began to realize what he was doing. In an instant Dean recoiled in horror and climbed to his feet. A dull, throbbing pain resonated inside his skull with every weary step he took away from the teen girl lying on the ground.
He clutched his head in confusion and pain, "What am I doing? Where am I?"
What had he done? Overcoming the pain in his eyes and head, he rushed over to his victim's side and opened up a link to Command.
"Command, this is Officer Winter, designation 100811, Code Red in Progress. I have someone here in critical condition; I need any available medical personnel to head to my location immediately."
Keeping the link open, he glanced down and spoke to the mortally wounded girl, "H-Hey stay with me, help's on the way." He looked to both ends of the hallway and saw the carnage that surrounded them. At one end of the hall was the corpse of a fellow Security Officer with the back of their head blossoming into a gaping wound. The collapsed, blood-drenched handgun that lied in his lap gave the clue that it was a suicide. The message "Heaven in my head" was faintly scrawled above the gory sight using the officer's blood.
"Shit, shit, shit, this is bad," he glanced back at the floating window and spoke again, "Command, I also have a dead officer at my location, where's that medical assistance!?" Again, he was only met with dead air.
"Hello, can anyone hear me…?" After a few seconds the window shifted from its blue-green color to a bright red—the connection had been lost or terminated.
Dean squeezed his eyes shut upon realizing just how bad the situation was. There was a dead officer, he was lost in some school that'd turned into a blood bath, and he had someone dying on his hands. Another bead of sweat had trickled down his brow and fell directly into his holo projector, briefly distorting the holographic window hovering above it.
"Why do I feel so hot?" Dean wiped his forehead using the back of his hand.
With squinted eyes, Dean glanced down at his holo projector in hopes that it'd display his orders. Unfortunately, it only added to his already immense confusion; the only things it kept displaying were photographs of him and the young girl lying before him. Holding out his wrist, he proceeded to give his RIG's navigation system a try. Troublingly, it too displayed no directions to an objective or to any kiosks or even to his apartment. The disoriented officer stumbled to his feet before falling back against a wall, "Just what in the hell is wrong here?"
"You're confused and lost with no orders, and there's no one who can help you."
Sinking back down to the ground, he turned his head to see the source of the hushed voice that just spoke. The only person it could've come from would be the young girl lying just a few feet away from him. Dean grew alarmed upon first glance at her; blood had seeped out the corners of her mouth and slowly trailed out of her nose. It couldn't have come from her; he was sure whatever damage he did to her throat would keep her from letting out so much as a whisper.
Just as he was about to continue looking around the room, out the corner of his eye, he saw her open her mouth. "There's blood smeared along the walls and windows, there's a dead officer at the end of this hall, and there's no one here to help you."
Nothing was making sense, so rather than focus on the fact that she was speaking clearly in spite of her injury, he instead tried to keep her quiet. "I'm sorry, but just keep quiet until I can get some help to arrive; everything's going to be alright."
"You were just on top of me, you nearly crushed my Larynx, and there's no one who can help you."
Dean was initially stunned upon hearing her statement, but he quickly shrugged it off and maintained his composure, "I'm not the one needing help here. Again, please just keep quiet, miss."
"You're a savage who abandoned his wife, and there's no one who'll forgive you."
The officer felt one of his fists clench as the color began to drain from his face, "Please be quiet..."
"You're all you have and you don't even like yourself. Do you recall the words, 'don't come near me, all you ever do is hurt me?'"
Dean's fist slammed into the metallic floor, "Why won't you just shut up?"
"You're pa—"
Her voice was suddenly cut-off as Dean proceeded to strike her with his fist, "Why won't you just shut the fuck up!?"
The enraged officer paused for a moment before following it with another strike, then another, and another. Soon, he found himself savagely pounding and slamming her head against the metal floor. All the terror and hate he kept inside was unleashed upon her skull. Even after feeling and seeing her head begin to cave in under his fists, he didn't stop.
After several minutes he'd realized that he'd lost feeling in both his hands and stopped. The only things that could be heard were Dean's labored breathing, the hum of the lights and the sound of the girl's RIG flat-lining. He gently opened his fists and saw the clumps of hair, blood, and skull fragments that stuck to his knuckles. It was then that the reality of what he'd just done sank in. Cold beads of sweat trailed down from his honey-blonde hairline and pooled around the collar of his riot security suit. Dean's pupils dilated as he took in the site of the girl's corpse and his gore-ridden hands.
A/N: There's the first chapter, I'm not really sure what to write here (it's been awhile) other than please leave a review or favorite if you're interested in seeing this story continue. As it hopefully clued you in in the summary, this story will take place a bit before the events of Dead Space 3 and will hopefully tie in the Severed DLC from Dead Space 2.