Synopsis: What if inanimate objects had a voice? What if they thought and felt things just as we do? A one shot collection recording the deaths of the main Until Dawn characters from the perspectives of their beloved possessions.
Genre: Angst, Horror
Ending: No one survives
Rating: T
A/N:I cried a lot while writing this. I can't believe I feel so much for an inanimate object. This tore at my heart. Also, shout out to Mogitz for gifting me the idea of the item for this chapter (no spoilers ;) )
When she packed me in her bag, I was sizzling in excitement. I was almost convinced I'd end up bursting my own fuse. That wouldn't have been any use when she needed my light.
The bag was cold and cramped. I was squished between a pair of yoga pants and that all too uncomfortable, metallic and rough roped climbing equipment. I'd always prided myself in being the most flattering equipment she had. I always thought I completed her outfit. Her forehead was never fully perfect without me positioned right in the centre of it.
We've spent so many exciting hours together; climbing cliffs, scouring caves, hiking over mountains. She took me everywhere. So this time meant another adventure for the two of us; where she'd rely on me. When she'd thank me over and over for the beam I gave her. I was so proud.
But this time. When she took me out of the bag. It wasn't the same.
The atmosphere wasn't exciting. It wasn't fizzling with energy. There was no thrill in the air, waiting for my light to brighten up any area of her life.
It was cold. Dark. Heavy.
The weight on me was harder. It was no longer just a little adventure, a fun outing for the two of us. I no longer had to just give her light. I had to save her life.
Her forehead wasn't so easy to grace now. Sweat pooled there, slipping into my wiring, mingling with my panic and pressure. The mines we'd traipsed through weren't adventurous. They were horror rides, roller coasters that only went down. Mossed, wet walls stinking with rot and death.
She was relying on me so much now. She was depending on me.
And I failed her.
Her body comes crushing to the ground. It clatters with a sickening thump, accompanied by an unearthly shriek. My bulb falters, so close to breaking, as I feel her heartbeat cut out. Her forehead is cold. Empty.
I feel crippled, demolished. Like someone has stepped on my bulb with a heavy boot, crushing me like glass. I've betrayed her. I've let her down.
I've killed her.
My light is still trickling through, shining through cracks in wooden floors, trying to hide away. Hers is gone though. Broken. Never coming back.
Hers is dead.
Like my fuse.