I was really unsure whether I'd attempt a Dead by Daylight story or not, but, I have this presistant urge to try it out and see how it manages. So, I'm doing just that! This story is entirely fisrt person since I feel that would portray the sinister vibe of the game better, however, only certain killers will get POVs. All the survivors get POVs. To clear up which killers get POVs, here's the list: The Princess (OC), The Clown, The Doctor, The Nightmare and The Pig - that's it. I feel the others would be too difficult to write given their roots/mental state, or because they are just incapable of speech/emotion. If you have any criticism on how I am writing a certain character incorrectly (apart from my OCs for obvious reasons), please let me know and I'll take it into consideration.
Dairy Entry 001
When I opened my eyes, it was as if I hadn't. I can't say whether it was because I was confronted wholly by a sea of eternal darkness, or because I was hovering effortlessly, a mysterious force cradling my body as though this was all a dream. As it would turn out…
It was anything but a dream.
Confused, I had a lot of questions with no one to ask. Despite looking around, no friendly outline caught my eye, just that black emptiness from the start. For a second I could've swore…maybe I was reincarnating, to another being; the void I rested in was the universe's womb, a form of purgatory until my rightful place was found. How could I have missed the flight to heaven? Was I not good enough?
Oh, right…
I can't say I've been in touch with my ingrained faith as of the late.
Catholic.
When I say 'ingrained' I feel aware that there was no way around my attitude. I doubt defending my actions will would do much for me under my current circumstances, however, I prefer to believe I was not entirely to blame. I was not religious; this was my punishment…
Right?
I still don't know. I cried for a while. Maybe four hours - that sounds accurate enough.
Now, the fireplace evaporates my tears and I nudge in close to it, flames blocking my view of the others from underneath my arms - in denial.
I don't know if I can trust these people…
I don't know why this is happening to me…
And I don't know how I'm going to live up to the name, survivor…
[Meg POV]
Another day, another match. Why the fuck do I even call it that? It's like I'm too used to it by now, and the only thing I ever gain out of it is a sadistic workout session. My head feels heavy, damp with sweat. I stumble into my seat as an icy numbness strikes my two legs, foot-first. A severe case of pins and needles, only the kind you experience when you're on the verge of fainting.
Of course Claudette notices.
She's always the first to notice something off. Naturally, she slides over to me, to the end of the log. Her hand in placed on my back, to comfort or to catch?
"Everything okay, Meg?"
An experienced, raspy voice that always lightens my mood. Her tone is like a beautiful blend of sweet and savoury - I doubt anyone could dislike Claudette, even if they tried.
"I'm good."
"Your sure?"
Her hand is now lifting my upwards, my eyebrows raising along with the rest of me. I turn to give her the same glance of mutual respect we've had since day one.
"How many times have we had this conversation." I murmur jokingly.
I don't think she caught the joke - her energy was wiped away like a fresh stain after I had said that. I shouldn't have; Claudette was not the strongest player we had here, however, she was the most resourceful. I hated seeing the productive side of people rather than the the side that actually mattered, but when you're stuck in a hellish game of survival, you're forced to.
Claudette's sniffling brought my attention back to the impact I unintentionally left. Before I could break the silence to apologise, she spoke in an even raspier voice than usual, "I wish there was a way out."
I paused.
"...I know."
What else could I say? After that hesitation I had to redeem myself.
Seems Quentin was still lurking about - no surprise there. He stood still about ten feet away from us, the baggy rings under his eyes (the colour of a bruise) disturbingly brought out by the fire's glow - a look for him.
He looked worn. Looks here are not too deceiving.
His arms were brought to the back of his neck, "We should try and focus on the positive, you guys."
Ugh, that monotone voice. Those lazily absurd words tempted me to shoot back a series of rhetorical questions, however, Claudette did not have to go through that.
Not on my watch.
"Do you even sleep any more?"
A change of subject was increasingly necessary - good timing on my part.
"...nah, what's the point."
He shrugged as if it were nothing to him. Nothing meant anything to him, I thought when he first arrived, but overtime I quickly learned that he was here to help us: mentally and physically. Personally, I didn't approach him whenever I had a problem. I don't approach anyone whenever I have a problem, now that I think about it.
It doesn't mean shit when you look at the bigger picture.
Anyhow, himself and Claudette talked after a while, so I left. Not that I'm not hostile, I just felt like a shadow behind them both, cast out by the fire. They had warm conversations. I can't remember the last time I used comforting words. Anything I say these days rubs off my tongue like sandpaper, leaving ugly blisters , and they sting.
I was certain everyone else was sleeping, so I minded my own business and circled the camp, bringing me that little bit of freedom I forged. Strolls were a custom for me, I always had to start the day with a stroll - end it with a stroll. This was a knock-off stroll. A stroll is meant to have a destination in mind; a place to conclude it so that you could move on with your day knowing you got a little exercise in.
No, not this.
I stopped walking. I don't know why. I was just going to walk back to the camp to see if I had tired myself out enough to sleep, but, my eyes were glued open. I was in a state of silent panic. Something momentary came over me, freezing me entirely - nothing was there, yet I felt exposed. I was captured in the moment, like a deer in headlights. I didn't dare to move; this meant something.
Suddenly, as though I knew, a faint golden hue painted over some surrounding rocks. It was a shimmering light I very much recognised, and triggered both curiosity and pity - that abnormal combination. I found myself again as I crept over to the source of the phoney glow. The heavenly colours were a cruel contradiction within this hell-hole an unsuspecting soul just discovered. Whoever they were, they were not going to like it one bit.
The only other time I remember running into a newcomer was when I physically ran into a golden flash, blinding me. A split second late, I came face to face with Feng. That look she gave is imprinted in my mind - one of the only funny moments I've had here. There was a sheepish exchange of giggles and greetings.
I like Feng. I like all of the campers.
Will I like this one?
I approach. My arm outstretched. My fingers grip onto the edge of the rock as I peer in, like a child slowly lifting their pillow in anticipation of a coin in exchange for their tooth. I see a hunched back, a faded green shirt - a healthy green. Soft strands of baby blonde hair are held together by a thick bobbin, navy blue. Her pale hands reach for her face, rubbing what I know to be eyes. Definitely a human - a girl I'm sure. She is not facing me, so I make the decision to speak, "Hey, you new?"
A dopey response as she twists her body clumsily before looking up in my direction - unfazed, almost. Her misty grey eyes meet my stern blue ones - we are both unsure. Her face is presented by her drawn hair, hung curtains on either side of her head - messy and equal; they covered her cheekbones enough to give her face a roundish appearance - it made her look younger than she probably was. Very light freckles dotted her face, the same light blonde - you wouldn't notice it unless you were as critical as I was there; I severely analysed this girl, like she was a topic due to appear on a vital exam.
I honestly miss school.
"Where…am I, exactly?"
She got straight to the killer question, lucky me. I avoid it, "Follow me, it's cold out here."
Her face scrunched up in confusion, from what I could tell. I don't blame her. This is how we all felt when we first arrived here.
"Huh? Could you at least tell me where I am?"
She's whispering now. Some sense of caution, thankfully.
"Look, I'd tell you, but I'd rather get you back to the rest of our group first so we can give you a worthwhile explanation. Okay?"
The troubled girl gave me another look-over before blinking, and, strangely enough, relaxing her shoulders, "All right." She agreed.
I felt bad for providing her with the impression that her situation was nothing serious. Our situation. I had to let her know we're all for one when we get back. I had to. No sleep tonight - she had to know how to survive, or I'll never forgive myself for letting her first day go a shit as mine did.
[Dwight POV]
I was exhausted, but could not manage to fall asleep. I had a side-way view of old man Bill, sharp, gruff snores and a wrinkle of the nose every so often. A pattern began to form after a while, every fifteen seconds, a snore, but after a two minutes he'd jab the tip of his nose with the back of his hand, turning around grouchily, the blankets in his clutches; I'd have to wait another couple of minutes before getting a look at his steel features again - I hope I age that well.
Why can't I fall asleep like everyone else? I've never had an enjoyable experience with camping, not before and most certainly not here. It's like I'm a bad luck magnet. I can never have anything. Not even a good night's sleep.
Reluctantly, I sit up, my eyes aching. I'm drowsy, but not sleepy.
Wait…I hear Claudette!
And is that Quentin too?
If they weren't out there I wouldn't have left my tent, but company is a necessity when you've been spending two hours wide awake in the dark.
Once I'm outside they both look up knowingly, with Claudette gesturing me to sit beside her. I think we have a solid relationship - she's one of my favourite people here. Quentin's a chill guy too. Don't know how I managed without him…in the past. It surprises me I haven't snapped yet, rolling freakishly across the ground with fizzing foam around my mouth, as if I was a rabid creature on the verge of death. There's no death here, though. No way out. As depressing as it was, it was the truth; David made sure to remind us daily.
"Can't sleep?"
I was asking, but the same applied to me, so it could have just been a statement of my own.
"Naturally, nope."
Quentin gave a deflated smirk at his bland remark, and Claudette chuckled wearily. Now two pairs of eyes were anticipating my response.
I winced, "Uh, so…anything on your minds?"
Nothing in particular to discuss on my part; I was bored.
Claudette glanced around the camp-fire, an alert cat. Her eyes bounced back to us, "Meg's been gone a while…"
Quentin hummed briefly, as a sign of agreement - now he looked concerned.
"Hope her legs didn't give out. I should go and look for her." He stood up once he said this.
I exchanged looks with Claudette, and she nodded along with me. As we watched Quentin march ahead; I wondered how he was so attached to us. We weren't his family, but he often treated us as though we were. It gave me a relieving feeling inside; a soft, fluttery feeling of worth. I was worth something to him. Everyone was.
On cue, Claudette turned to me with a petite smile, "Maybe a lullaby would help?"
At first, I was stunned, visibly recoiling with a panicked expression. My act of shock puzzled Claudette, but she didn't know my end match was a frantic chase between myself, and a prowling Huntress - ready to strike with those wild axes, with an equally wild desire to cut straight into my back. I was fortunate to trip into a hatch while I turned to check up on her aiming arm, falsely soft humming growing closer. She tried hurling the axe directly into my skull as soon as she realised where I was headed, but my foot had already got caught below the rim, sending me head first into the hatch.
I couldn't have been more happy to trip into a hole.
"Oh, u-uh…okay." I breathed out the last word - it was Claudette singing, not her.
Out of the blue, her nurturing hands seized my head, lightly leading me into her lap, in front of a toasty orange fire. Her left hand ran through me nest-like hair, worrying me - I forgot to brush it. However, she didn't seem to mind as her shoulders began to sway; a song formed in her mouth, buzzing delicately though compressed lips. I could not put my finger on the tune, but if I meant something to her, it meant something to me also. I shut my eyes along with her, lulling off in to what I hoped would been a long-lasting sleep.
Dully vibrant colours ran through my head, as her singing became more distant from me. Hums vibrated in my mind, providing a warm swarm of colours. Soon, I saw the sun, and my home. My parents stood outside the door, grinning at me. Birds twittered in the background as I got to my feet, squinting my eyes in disbelief.
"I made you lunch Dwighty-poo!"
It's mom!
My friends waved me off, and continued their game of tag. I was set to go. I ran towards her as fast as my toddler legs could carry me, for a hug, a kiss and a delicious lunch. Her arms spread out, ready to catch me.
I was asleep.
[Claudette POV]
I was so relieved to see him drift off in my lap. Dwight was the cutest thing. I massaged his forehead, wishing him a peaceful rest. I noticed that he jumped when I suggested a lullaby - that wicked Huntress. One thing I can't stand is injustice, and picking on an innocent soul such as Dwight is a disgusting act. I can't stand the pain of my friends; it ends up hurting me too. Now, at least, he could find some comfort.
Although I wanted to carry him back to his bed, I was well aware I didn't have the strength. Waiting for Quentin, and hopefully Meg, to return was my best bet.
So, I did.
It took a while, but eventually I heard the rustling of grass to my left, with what sounded to be more than one person. The first person to emerge was Quentin, who had a sober look in his eyes, for once. It took me by surprise, but I could hear someone behind him, so Meg had to be with him.
She was.
Again, a serious glance. They were both statue-still, like a pair of bouncers with their arms folded in severe disapproval. Were they waiting for me to say something?
I just shrugged my shoulders, feeling a little targeted - insulted, nearly.
Beyond all expectations, a third face met between theirs, looking as lost as a neglected puppy. Her pout reminded me of an upset pug, triggering my instant pity; not because of that, however, it was the same reason Quentin and Meg looked so stern.
Sighing, I shook my head and faced her, "Hi…please take a seat…"
Once myself and Meg and lifted Dwight back to his tent, the three of us sat in a row, with the confused girl lone on the other side of the camp-fire. Meg was ready to go, eyeing us before sitting up straight, "Alright, there's a lot to get through, but I think the three of us can cover it."
"A lot?"
Yes, she was definitely unsure. Completely unaware. There would be a lot of emotions shed tonight, I realised.
"Mm-hmm, but try to stay with us, okay?" I added, hoping it would settle her nerves.
"I'm listening."
Meg got straight into it, "The main motto of our group is to help each other out as much as we can, so remember that as I explain to you the circumstances we face daily."
"We understand if it distresses you." Quentin cut in, clearly worried.
She gave each of us a look before exhaling deeply, "I'm not going to like this, am I..?"
The three of us looked at each other, all thinking the same thing. I felt I had to reassure her before she was exposed to the gritty details, "I never caught your name."
"It's Izzy Baker."
I smiled, "Nice to meet you, Izzy."
"Ditto." Meg threw in.
"Welcome aboard." Was what Quentin said. I felt the tension between him and Meg; she felt like backhanding him for the silly comment, I was sure.
"Just…give it to me then - what's the big deal?"
Izzy wanted to know by now, with the way we had been skipping around it. Meg nodded firmly, understanding it was about time we told her.
And so we did. We told her everything, from bottom to top. The concept, the tactics, the killers, the realms, the hooks, the generators, the gates, the pallets, the people she had to trust and…worst of all, the Entity - the reason we were here.
It must have had an impact on her; she started sobbing after a while - after the long explanation. I told the others I wanted to talk to her, but when I tried she gave me the cold shoulder. Her head was buried in her arms, refusing to be released. It made me tear up too. Unlike Meg and Quentin, I slept outside with Izzy for the rest of the night.
It was the least I could do.
